#will admit i used to compare him to a tiefling

[forgeofthenine]

Jumping on the transmogrification bandwagon.

How would the three bachelors react when they find out their s/o is a dragon? Maybe their draconic s/o can let them experience flight in the form of their s/o letting them ride on their back? (Go with whatever you think works best in terms of what kind of dragon they have as an s/o!)

I have to admit, I spent so much time reading about dragons on the wiki and I couldn't decide on just one type of dragon 👀

Believe it or not, I'm low-key obsessed with dragons, I have so many more ideas for the bachelors' and their dragon lovers too. Thank you for the request!

The bachelors finding out their lover is a dragon

Dammon

Getting closer to Dammon is something that happened naturally

As with many other steel dragons, you'd made a successful life living among humanoids within baldurs gate

After years of building your own personal treasure hoard, a collection of buildings and businesses, you were approched by a tiefling refugee

He'd come to you with the proposal of using your long abandoned forge, a home you'd always had trouble keeping filled

It was an easy decision to rent the building to the charasmatic tiefling, even offering him a small discount

You'd find yourself at the property much more often now, popping in on your way past to check in on your new favourite blacksmith

Dammon himself was always excited to see you, happy to set down his tools and keep you in conversation for an hour or two

However, it was only when you and the tiefling were in that uncertain position between friends and dating that you decided it was time to reveal your true nature to him

It was out in the mountains near baldurs gate, where you'd originally grown up, that you spread your wings again and showed Dammon who you really were

It would be a lie to say he wasn't surprised, Dammon was close to a heart attack when he saw your wings and tail unfurl as you grew to tower above him

You both had a very in-depth conversation after the revelation, discussing the lifestyle and expectations a dragon has compared to a 'mere' tiefling

It doesn't scare the blacksmith away though, if anything he's excited to learn more about you

Dammon will definitely gift you lots of pretty jewellery he's made, including pieces that fit you while in your true dragon form

Zevlor

You first met Zevlor when he was still a general within the hellrider ranks

Like many bronze dragons, you never knew when to leave well enough alone, so joining a humanoid army seemed a good idea

You had been with the hellriders for years with them being none the wiser, you and Zevlor bonding over shared ideals

You both had a strong sense of camaraderie and justice, often finding yourself in each others company and soon in a romantic relationship

When Elturel fell however, you had been in your lair, only able to hope and pray that your darling paladin would be returned to you safe

And he was returned, but you'd hardly been able to reunite with him before the tieflings were driven from the city

It only made sense in your mind to join them, despite appearing very human to the naked eye

It was honestly hard to hide your true form as the group travelled

The water tempted you to swim or make a new lair, the endless fighting would've been easier if you'd let yourself spread your wings

It was when you'd reached the grove you also made it to your breaking point

Soon, Zevlor found himself standing on the sand of the Sword Coast watching as a bronze dragon appeared before him in your stead

He really has no words, hardly believing his own eyes as his lover reveals something from his wildest dreams

Zevlors also seen many things and met many people within his life, but this takes him some adjustment

There's also a few discussions that happen between you, and you greatly flustered the poor man when you revealed bronze dragons mate for life

It's certainly a self esteem boost for the older tiefling to know such a noble and loyal being has chosen him out of any possible suitors

Zevlor is also the type to insist on helping you clean and polish your scales, taking care of you even when you're ten times his size

Rolan

A small part of Rolan had always been surprised by your interest in him

The two of you meeting when he and his siblings were in their teens, despite you being seemingly the same age you'd always come across more intelligent and poised than others

He'd always found himself drawn to your company, the two of you easily engaging in conversation for hours at a time

The fact you always smelled like a fresh, rainy morning didn't hurt either

When Rolan and his siblings were driven from Elturel, you were all too happy to join them

Anyone who dared to try and harm the trio instead found a furious silver dragon in human form

The group of you were inseparable, and you'd spent so much time together that you were almost scared to reveal your true self to Rolan

It'd been so long, and anyone could tell that the fledgling wizard was a fussy man

It was only when your group had reached the Shadowlands that Rolan discovered your true form

The mere thought of the three tieflings being taken from you was enough to enrage you to the point of stretching your wings and desperately taking hold of the closest one to you, Rolan

He himself was in absolute shock, between the giant dragon fighting against the ambushers that managed to make off with Lia and Cal

The wizard was distraught, and spent much of his time in the last light inn drunk and angry, even you were a victim of his temper

He was hardly pleased at the secrets you'd been keeping from him

It was only when Cal and Lia were returned, the two fawning over the fact you're a dragon, that Rolan actually pays proper attention to his best friend and crush being a dragon

He has endless questions, knowing you're a long lived species with a great array of knowledge, it's like a neverending interview

He appreciates having a study partner, and then later lover, that can keep up with and even surpass him

Having you around keeps things interesting for Rolan, and you provide him with a sense of security little else can

[spookyjuicefiction]

Violets & Plums: Astarion/Tav, Part 1

Got an idea for an Astarion fic that I just need to start working through and here is as good a place as any. Part 1 of ?

_______________________________________

He had been wrong about her. And he hated being wrong.

He had seen her on the nautiloid, stuffed into a pod and infected with a tadpole just as he had been. He recognized her when he spotted her trudging up the path toward him away from the crash site. He himself had just clawed his way out of the wreckage and was getting his bearings when she and the she-elf emerged from the smoke. An easy target, he thought, quickly preparing a ruse to trap her. She fell right into it, and he was ready to kill her - that is, until their parasites connected.

When he agreed to team up with her and Shadowheart, it was because he planned to use them as human shields should he meet any attackers. Sure, they had the common goal of finding a healer to remove the parasite, but they certainly had no value as serious allies as far as he could tell. Even only being a vampire spawn, they were slow and weak compared to him. Not to mention stupid. He was the obvious choice to lead the pack.

Then why was it that he was standing at the edge of the campsite alone, scowling to himself as the rest of his merry band of companions passed around a bottle of wine and enjoyed each others' company? And why was she the one in the middle, with every adoring eye on her?

Yes, he had certainly underestimated her. Within hours she had every one of them wrapped around her magical fingers, and within a few days they had all deferred to her as their de-facto leader when decisions needed to be made. She seemed to have a gift for reading people, knowing exactly how to charm and persuade them. Her skills of deception even rivaled his own, though he was loathe to admit to his admiration of them.

His pointed ear pricked toward the campfire as new sounds arose; she - Tav - had started plucking a tune on her lute and leading the group in song. He rolled his eyes. Of course she sings, too. How irritating.

It was truly annoying how easily she gained the others' favors. Wasn't he supposed to be the one so well-versed in flattery and charisma? Yet she deigned to engage with them in ways that made his skin crawl, like listening to Wyll's obviously dramatized renditions of his escapades as The Blade of Frontiers. Or allowing Gale to ramble on about his cat - his tressym, as the obnoxious wizard was so fond of correcting them. Shadowheart seemed to like her just because Tav left her alone and didn't ask her too many questions, but chuckled along at all of her jokes at the others' expense. She had even gained Lae'zel's trust after asking her for fighting tips and electing her as the group battlemaster in case of combat. And Karlach took nothing at all - the two have been practically joined at the hip (from a fire-safe distance, of course) since the tiefling joined their camp. She must be hiding something, he thought. No one can be that good at gaining peoples' trust without good reason. He would know.

She tried to read him, too. She made little jokes and comments under her breath only for him to hear, trying to be conspiratorial. She complemented him often, trying to appeal to his vanity. But most obnoxiously, she went toe to toe with him in battles of wit. Any time he threw loaded grenade of snark and vitriol at one of their companions to entertain himself, she threw it right back. It was infuriating, being undermined and bested at his favorite game. That was probably why the others' liked her so much, because she was fond of shutting him up and making him seethe quietly in the back of the line. Nobody else liked him.

Good, he thought. Best to go it alone anyway. Never needed a friend before, don't need one now. As soon as I get this bastard out of my eye, I'll be gone faster than a rat in Cazador's dungeon.

The thought of rats unpleasantly reminded him of his thirst. Typically, he waited until the others were asleep to go off and hunt so they wouldn't suspect the truth about his condition. But seeing as they were all singing (except Lae'zel, of course), he guessed no one would notice if he stalked off.

He took no joy in his kill tonight, feeling grumpy as he continued to brood over his distaste for Tav. Two hundred years thinking of nothing but Cazador and he was finally free, only to spend every moment bemoaning his luck at being stuck with the spellcaster. He drained the boar of its blood and left it carelessly on the side of the path, electing to wander around for the remaining nighttime hours rather than returning to camp. He was too restless to trance anyway. And she was there. She probably conjures butterflies in her sleep and dreams rainbows, the foul beast.

"The hells is that?" asked Karlach, squinting at a large lump on the side of the path.

"Looks like a boar," said Wyll, going over to toe it with his boot, Tav close behind. "It looks... it looks like it's been drained of blood. There's no stain around it. I can't even see a wound."

"That's odd," remarked Shadowheart, quirking an eyebrow. Astarion shifted on his feet, agitated. Shit. He should have taken more care to cover his kill last night. Looking around, he started as he realized Tav was staring right at him.

"Oh, who cares, it's only a boar," he said impatiently, looking quickly away from her, unnerved. "Surely there are more interesting things to investigate. Look, I see goblins mounting an ambush through the gate up ahead. Let's go and kill something." He stalked off, not waiting for a reply and removing his daggers from their sheaths.

"Something on your mind?"

FUCK. Astarion couldn't remember the last time someone had snuck up on him. He had been pacing in a clearing just outside the camp, wondering if Tav somehow knew his secret. He was debating with himself whether he should abandon the group and set out on his own when her voice - the last voice he wanted to hear - startled him. Rounding on her with daggers drawn and his hair standing on end, he fixed her with his most murderous expression.

"Do you make a habit on intruding on people's private contemplations?" he hissed angrily.

"You know better than anyone the advantage of catching someone off-guard," she replied coolly, folding her arms and shifting her weight.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" he asked, voice dripping with sarcasm as he lowered his weapons. He loathed her completely in that moment.

"Only wondering where you were. Looted some good food for supper from those goblins, if you're hungry." She tilted her head. "Or perhaps you've already eaten today."

They regarded each other cautiously as her words hung in the air. He was certain that she knew. Was she afraid he would hurt her, or the others? She could tell them his secret, and they would all turn on him. So what did she want in exchange for her silence? Was she shaking him down?

"I'm not hungry," he replied slowly. Slowly, he raised his empty hands, daggers now sheathed. A gesture of surrender. "I'm happy to keep watch while you all eat. I will ensure no harm comes to anyone."

She narrowed her eyes, seeming to understand the duality of his words. He was promising not to drink from them. After a beat, she replied with a stiff nod. He allowed his tense shoulders to drop. She was promising not to tell them. For now.

Satisfied at their new agreement, Astarion spent the next 2 days coming up with a new plan to manipulate Tav. With her being the the leader of their group, it seemed prudent to ensure that she would protect him should the others begin to turn on him. Much as he despised her, he conceded that she was his best chance to finding a cure for the parasite, and thus his best chance for true freedom from Cazador. If she was already willing to hide his condition from the others, it would not take too much more effort on his part to get her to play completely into his hand. All he had to do was try a little seduction. Even she couldn't best him at that game.

But even has his plan took shape, he could feel his thirst, an ever-present beast clawing up his throat, undermining him. It made him irritable, weak, and unfocused. Instead of charming her, he more often found himself arguing with her, stabbing her with vicious insults about her sorcery, her class, and even her looks. He didn't really even mean them; she had proven herself an adept spellcaster in both battle and everyday application, she seemed to come from a fine, middle-class family in Baldur's Gate, and her looks were perfectly adequate to the average person. Not beautiful enough to tempt Cazador, maybe, but enough that Astarion caught Gale's eyes lingering a little too long a little too often. For some reason, Astarion found that infuriating.

He had lobbed a particularly nasty mockery at her earlier in the day after she had insisted that they all run in to a burning building to rescue some helpless fool, so he was quite surprised to find her clearing her throat outside of his tent that evening.

"Come to shoot a firebolt at me since you didn't quite singe all of my eyebrows off this afternoon?" he inquired bitterly.

She rolled her eyes. "Can I come in?"

This was unusual. No one had ever asked to enter his tent before.

"I suppose," he replied cautiously, and she shouldered past him through the flap. He followed her back inside and she turned to face him, crossing her arms defensively.

"You've been a real arse these last days." She said it with a finality that left no room for argument. He poked at her anyway.

"Well, thank you," he broke into a smile and a shallow bow. "You should see me when I don't have a parasite in my head."

"I've had enough," she continued, as though he hadn't interrupted. "This ends now."

"What are you going to do?" he hissed, joking manner aside as he closed the distance between them threateningly. She was going to tell the others. "You'll be dead before you reach the door."

But as usual, the moment he had the upper hand, she pulled the rug out from under him. "I'd rather you not drink so much as to kill me, since I'm offering it out of the kindness of my heart."

He never could quite get his footing with her.

"Excuse me?"

"If you drink some of my blood, will you stop being such a devil's shite?"

It took considerable effort for Astarion to clamp his jaw shut and rearrange his features to mask his shock.

"You want me to drink your blood?"

"Want is a strong word. But I'm willing to make a small sacrifice for the good of the group if it'll shut you up long enough for us to find this Halsin without your moaning and whining."

"I do not moan and whine," he protested petulantly. "And I absolutely do not promise to shut up. But it will almost certainly improve my mood drastically." He licked his lips at the thought of it, eyeing her pulse point.

"Very well then. I suppose I'd better lay down in case I pass out."

Astarion watched motionlessly as she lowered herself onto his bedroll and swept her hair off her neck. His body seemed unable to move, yet his every instinct told him to tear her open right then and there. At the same time, the sight of her on his bedroll made him feel slightly nauseous - not because of her, but something akin to shame stirred in his abdomen. Just another victim for him to ruin. It was almost too easy. So why the sudden... guilt?

"Can we get on with it? I don't much fancy falling asleep in your bedroll."

Composing himself, Astarion dropped to his knees with a flourish and bent his body over hers. It was horribly intimate, and he could sense her discomfort. He lavished in it.

"Comfortable, darling?" he smirked at her and winked, and she rolled her eyes.

"If you accidentally kill me, you know that Karlach will make sure you burn alive. So, not a drop more than you need."

"Of course, my sweet. No need to worry. Only a teensy little sip and I'll be out of your hair."

She looked like she didn't believe a word, but she turned her head with a sigh, exposing her neck to him.

"It'll only hurt a pinch," he breathed as he lowered himself to her pulse point. He was struck for a moment by her scent - violet and plums and something smoky - before he bared his teeth. He felt her take a breath, and then he sunk his fangs in.

They moaned almost in unison, her in pain, and him in pleasure, as he began to drink. Gods, it was perfect, even better than he had ever imagined it could be. He could've sworn that her blood tasted like violet and plums as it splashed over his tongue. She was clutching his arms for support, and he felt his hand clamp down on her hip to hold her in place. But she didn't try to get up, laying stiffly beneath him as he suckled her lifeblood.

He could kill her. It would be so easy. She would feel like she was falling asleep, and he could drink her as dry as the boar on the side of the road. The image of it rose in his mind; her, pallid, bloodless, slack-jawed. No more stupid singing. No more butterfly dreams.

He retracted his fangs from her quickly, as though she had burned him suddenly. Her grip on his arms had weakened significantly, and her head seemed to loll on her neck.

"Oh dear. Don't pass out, darling."

He scooped his hand under her cheek and turned her face toward him. Her eyes were placid and unfocused, but she was blinking like she was trying to maintain consciousness. Already she looked pale. He bit back the resurgence of the guilty nausea and pulled a pillow under her head.

"Just a moment, love. We'll get you all sorted." His tone was light and airy as he rummaged in his pack for a healing potion, but he was more unnerved than he would've liked to admit.

"There we are." He uncorked the stopper and held her head up, tipping the potion down her throat slowly so as not to choke her. After a few deep breaths, she brought her hand up to her forehead and rubbed her temple.

"I said 'not too much', you arsewipe," her voice was weak, but clearly irritable.

"I can't help that you're so delicious," he cooed, relieved that the potion seemed to recover her somewhat. He noticed that her fingers were trembling, and a shiver wreaked through her whole body. Sighing, he pulled a thick blanket up around her. Her eyes on him were daggers, but she didn't push it off. "Just relax here for a bit. I won't be sleeping anytime soon, after that. It was quite... invigorating."

She eyed him curiously. "You say it like you've never done it before."

Sharp as ever. How did she always know?

"I... haven't. You're my first. My first... thinking creature, that is." He smirked at her, wiggling his eyebrows. "I bet you didn't guess I was a virgin."

She didn't take the bait. "So what did you eat?" Her fingers had stilled against her temple; he had her full attention now. He didn't like how her scrutiny made him feel. Somehow, even though she was so weak she couldn't raise her own head, he was the one feeling vulnerable.

"Oh, rats, flies, roaches, whatever one could find on hand 'round Cazador's dungeons," he said with forced nonchalance, examining his fingernails. "Cazador is - was - my master. I am his vampire spawn." He couldn't bear to look at her, sure he would see pity in her eyes that would make him want to claw his skin off. "How did you know about my condition, by the way?"

"You aren't as subtle as you think you are." His head snapped up at that, insulted. "And I've spent some time studying the condition. One of the guildmasters was hoping to imbibe a potion with some of the properties of vampire blood."

"To what end?" Astarion asked, curiosity piqued.

This time it was she who smirked. "The official story was that the research was focused on creating a more potent healing potion, since vampires are known to have such rapid regeneration. However," she pushed herself up gently on the pillows, "I always suspected they were hoping to create a potion of immortality."

"Well, that would be something," Astarion mused. "However did they get a vampire's blood to experiment with?"

"They didn't. It was all theoretical. I was trained to learn to recognize a vampire if I spotted one, with the hope of obtaining its blood for the research. With permission, or... by force." She looked as though the idea left a bad taste in her mouth. His face must have given his thoughts away as well, since she looked at him and chuckled. "Don't worry, I'm not going to steal your blood. I doubt it would have worked anyway."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well," she sat up further, the color beginning to return to her cheeks, "for one, I don't believe vampirism works in the way most mages think it does. It's not some kind of magical curse imbued with some mysterious arcane properties. I think it's... more like an illness. Like a plague, that can only be passed one way."

"Well, it certainly feels like a curse," Astarion intoned bitterly. "And if it's an illness, I've never heard of a cure."

She shrugged. "It's only a guess. But it is a little exciting to meet one up close, after all my research." She was smiling at him earnestly now, again making him feel uncomfortable.

"You're a strange creature. I just drank your blood and you're excited. One might think you have... odd predilections." He grinned wickedly at her.

She chuckled. "How are you feeling now? Less cranky?"

Astarion took stock of his body as he climbed to his feet. "I feel strong. I feel..." he trailed off a moment, searching for the right word. "Happy."

Tav clamored to her feet as well, with far less grace. She wove unsteadily for a moment, and he caught her waist to ensure she didn't pull his tent down in a fall. They were standing quite close again, and he felt his guard drop for a moment.

"Thank you," he said quietly, "for trusting me. I... this is a gift, you know. I won't forget it."

"I suspect neither will I," she murmured, smiling at him once more. "Well, good night then."

"Sweet dreams."

He watched her walk slowly and tiredly back to her tent on the other side of the clearing, head reeling with everything that had just happened. She had offered herself to him, but not in the way he was used to. She had offered her blood, and she had trusted him to take it. But why? What is there for her to gain?

She wanted him placated, clearly. Perhaps she was as annoyed by him as he was by her and really did just want to shut him up. Maybe she was mounting her own manipulation plan, forcing him to be dependent on her blood to do her bidding. He hated knowing that if she offered again, he would greedily accept. But what reason did she have to trust him so easily not to kill her, when all he had done since they met was insult her? What was she reading about him that he didn't even know himself? The questions plagued him as he hunted that night, wishing every sip of animal blood was hers. He had a taste for it now, and it ruined him. If he had thought about her constantly before, he was doomed now.

As he lay down in his bedroll to trance, he raked his hand over his face. Then, he began to laugh bitterly. All around him, the only thing he could sense was aroma of violet and plums.

Part 2

[jace-writes-about-things]

An Orb In The Way

It had been a hard fight, but it was finally over, the grove was safe and much to Tav's delight it was time to relax, have a drink and forget the impending doom their party had been feeling for the past week. It's not every day you're thrust into a mission, save the world and everyone in it to ensure the continued survival of the entire world, was a pretty big burden to be forced to carry.

Their party, although exhausted was ready to celebrate their victory over the Goblin Camp, it had been a tedious and hard fight clearing out the entire camp but with the help of the Archdruid they'd come to know as Halsin, they had managed to save the grove from destruction and stop Kaugha's Rite of Thorns from sealing the grove off from the rest of Faerun. Of course, their journey was far from over, but this brief respite was welcomed by the party, and Tav found herself in camp. Surrounded by fellow Tieflings, the party in full swing around her as people celebrated their continued survival.

Making the rounds, talking to her fellow exhausted but celebrating party members, she began with Shadowheart found at her tent sipping on what appeared to be a goblet of wine. "Enjoying the festivities?" Shadowheart asked over the rim of her goblet, she seemed a bit on edge with the sheer amount of people who we're celebrating around the camp, of course she was used to her life of seclusion as a servant of Shar but Tav seemed to notice the slight happiness to her expression, she was enjoying the company of others even if she would staunchly deny it, "Just making the rounds, wanted to check in with everyone before I finally let loose a little." Tav responded, taking a seat at Shadowheart's stool, allowing herself a moment to actually sit down for the first time that day, she didn't realise how heavy her limbs felt till she finally felt a bit of rest. Noticing her leaders fatigue she passed her goblet to the tired Tiefling which she accepted gladly with a sigh before sipping lightly on the rather bitter wine, she must have made a face at the taste judging by Shadowheart's quiet laugh. Handing back the goblet Tav rose to her feet, much to her bones and muscles protest, but she had more than Shadowheart to speak to.

Giving Shadowheart a smile and quick wave she made her way to the rest of the group, noticing that a good chunk of the team was actually drinking together, it was nice to see the small group getting along, even if they had been thrust together with very little concern for some clashing personalities. Looking around, noticing a certain wizard trying his best to keep up with Karlach and La'zel discussing their preferred choice of weapon was a sight to see. They had only known each other a short while but watching the wizard's awkward smile and nodding along as he pretended to understand the different advantages great axes and battle-axes had, considering to him they are pretty much the same thing just that battle-axes are a little smaller. It was rather endearing, someone Tav never thought to even consider, herself a brutish barbarian who very much swung first and talked after, compared to the composed and educated wizard, Gale.

Feeling eyes on her, of course she had been caught staring and of course it had to be Astarion. Looking over at the pale elf, he didn't even have to say a word his smirk speaking for itself, well she'd been found out might as well admit it, even if it had to be to the one person who would absolutely rip the piss out of her. Making her way over to the smug elf with what was definitely an embarrassed look, "Something caught your eye?" said with such smugness it almost made Tav want to slap the expression right off his face, but she was learning to think before acting seemingly getting her further into places and having better outcomes, so she played into Astarion's teasing, "Why? Feeling a little jealous?" she almost laughed at the quick change in his expression. How the tables could quickly turn, but as quickly as his embarrassment came his features were stilled and the facade was back, "Jealous? Of you pining after that wizard? Come on darling you have better standards than that surely?" hiding his face behind his goblet as he drank, almost ready to spit the sour liquid back out, without giving her time to respond to his rather rude assessment of Gale, "Gods this wine is disgusting, you would think that we deserve something better for saving these people’s lives." it wasn't so much as a request more a demand, shaking her head at his rudeness, "Expecting greatness for simply helping people? Not sure you're quite deserving of the hero title, are you?" Tav jested, maybe she could get under his skin the way he does with everyone else, give him a taste of his own medicine.

But of course no luck, seemingly nothing could make the man squirm but this conversation was quickly becoming one that Tav didn't exactly have the energy for, giving the man a short smile and a short farewell she were off, looking around the camp for anyone to have a much more pleasant conversation with.

Of course, everyone was deep in either their own conversations or drinks, a head to the clear sky and the heaviness of her limbs led Tav down to the small bank at the edges of the camp, not entirely silent but still quieter than the full swing of the party happening behind her. Looking out to the water she lowered her tired limbs down to sit just at the cusp of the small tide of the bank, gazing out to the wilderness ahead, peaceful. Lost in her own thoughts, reviewing all that had happened, what was to come ahead, the choices they may be faced with...

So lost in thought she failed to notice that someone had joined her in her seat at the bank, "Did you know that a great axe is great for landing devastating blows to your enemies, but a battleaxe is better for wielding alongside a shield for added defence." came that honeyed voice, a slight laughter escaped Tav at the seemingly genuine interest Gale showed to the different advantages to the different weapons, gazing to her side there he sat with his eyes glowing like a child who'd just learned such important information. Regardless the topic it seemed he was always willing to listen and learn something new, it was endearing. A soft smile thrown his way as he blushed at the attention, "Sorry, I couldn't help but notice you straying away I thought to come check on you, you've made sure we're all alright but it seems no one's thought to ask how you're faring." he looked at her expectantly, willing to be an ear to listen, to rant at, looking at him it felt all too easy to just tell him everything, all of her problems, everything bothering her little or large.

With a sigh and a soft smile she simply looked back out to the water, gazing intensely at seemingly nothing in particular, his gaze followed her own out to the soft flow of the water looking to try find what she was staring so intently at, finding nothing he seemed to realise. A moment of peace, of respite is all she needed, maybe without him, he began to try to stand but a soft hand on his leg stopped him in his tracks, looking towards her again, her gaze still out towards the water, a silent plea, "Stay." it was simple, an easy instruction for him to follow.

His hand over her’s he resumed his seated position, tracing small patterns over her hand that rested on his leg. He'd be lying if he didn't feel the warm burn of blush on his face, isolation had done a number of his tolerance of physical intimacy but in this moment, this moment of peace he couldn't bring himself to care much about the blushing reaction to simple hand holding because it was Tav's hand he was holding, it was Tav's hand.

Sensing a slight shift in his demeanour Tav tried to pull her hand away from the wizard, mistaking his silence as rejection readying herself to pull away completely, if he didn't feel the same way she could simply shut off, it wouldn't be too hard, would it? But the quick snatch of her hand told her otherwise, a glace towards the wizard revealed his reddened face, simple hand holding had reduced this educated and put together wizard to a blushing mush, she could only describe it as cute, "You look like you're about to start running a fever." Tav teased, giggling as the wizards face deepened a shade if that was even possible, his other hand reached out to cover his face, desperate to hide his face in worry that Tav would find him to be childish, blushing at her simply touching his hand, it was embarrassing, horrifying he wanted the ground to swallow him whole but as Tav's hand reached out to block his attempts at hiding he found himself unable to cover his feelings any longer, "I'm sorry I'm usually much better at discussing my feelings but I seem to forget myself around you." even in explaining his embarrassment his words sounded like utter poetry, enough to make Tav swoon.

Gazing into his eyes could have revealed all, dark brown orbs looking back at her like she hung the very stars in the sky, a soft hand reaching up to her face seemingly to wipe a speck of whatever was bothering him from her face, she could get lost in his eyes for however long he would let her, but his glace down towards her lips gave way to a much more appealing idea. Smiling softly, leaning in, eyes drifting closed their lips met in a soft kiss. Tav didn't believe people when they said that when you kissed 'the one' that it felt like fireworks, until now. It felt like a whole crate of smoke-powder bombs had exploded the minute their lips met, it was soft, sweet and almost better than any drink that had ever graced her lips, quickly escalating to hands grabbing clothes and clutching onto his robes for dear life. Teeth clashing, tongues mixing desperate to taste each other like horny teenagers sneaking behind their parents backs it felt rebellious.

But a soft hand pushing against her chest gave them pause. Pulling away to gasp for air, taking note of their new position finding her legs wrapped around his waist planted firmly on his lap as he gripped her hips with the strength of a man holding himself back, hooded eyes as he drunk in her state, breathless and ready for more that he couldn't give, not just yet, "Sorry, I don't trust myself, with this unstable orb willing to see me ended I don't think it smart getting it too... um, excited?" it seemed almost like a question, one that he himself wasn't sure of the answer to. A soft chuckle escaped Tav, of course she couldn't risk Gale letting off an explosion all for the sake of a lay, disappointed but understanding of their situation, grasping his face between both hands she gave him a quick peck, pulling away as he chased, almost as if he himself was fighting the urge explosion be damned, he wanted her but alas the rational part of his brain won the fight, pushed down for a later date hopefully.

Rising to their feet together, gazing at each other glad of the admittance of feelings, the sharing of a moment together albeit not quite what they both yearned for, but a moment, nonetheless. Strolling back to camp with linked fingers and an obvious glow surrounding them both, it almost made Astarion sick to look upon

Thank you so much for reading my first cross posted Gale fanfiction, I've been posting all my writings over on AO3 as well if you want to have a nosey over there at my other writings, if not worry not I will be posting the rest of my fanfictions over here as well!

AO3 - jacethed00d

[jynxeddraca]

Hi yes, more Baldur's Gate brainrot. Sorry not sorry.

First of all look at my Tav:

She's adorable yes?

So fun fact I did not at all realize that 'Tav' is the default name given to all custom origin characters. I thought it was randomized and liked it so I kept it. So meet Tav Moonridge y'all!

Tav is a tiefling bard who grew up in the Outer City of Baldur's Gate, lives in the Lower City, basically raised her sister - Temerity Moonridge, and is currently 'on an adventure' that she really didn't want to be on and desperately wants to get back to her sister. I am also picturing her as like 5'2"/157 cm and often described as "willowy" or "reedy".

And now head canons of Tav interacting with the other characters. There are some spoiler-y things ahead.

No one has any idea how or why she ended up leading them, not even Tav. Tav is constantly baffled why anyone listens to her, but accepts it if it means she can talk everyone out of killing each other.

Tav broke Astarion's nose when they met via headbutting him in the face.

Karlach and Tav gossip in Infernal at camp. They never use anyone's names while doing so, but Astarion has a suspicion about which phrase might refer to him. Spoiler, it's Infernal for 'pretty boy' and it absolutely is referring to him.

Tav is a flirt when she's been drinking and kissed Shadowheart (during her first romance scene) and felt awful about it the next morning.

When they found the hat that is located near Alfira, Gale was able to tell it was enchanted but not really sure how. Tav laid claim on it and wears it at night to cover her eyes when she doesn't want Gale to bother her because he doesn't really get social cues and she doesn't want to hurt his feelings by just telling him to leave her alone for a bit. Gale thinks she's doing it because she had a headache or is about to go to bed.

Tav winds down in the evening by using her long tiefling talons nails to essentially fingering out tunes on her lute, without actually plucking the strings, and quietly humming along. She often does this leaning back against a stump or a rock with her eyes closed. She hasn't noticed that the camp tends to get quieter around this time because everyone likes to hear the humming - even if they refuse to admit it. She sometimes does this while wearing the hat.

When Astarion accidentally reveals he's a vampire and Tav ends up offering her neck to him - he ends up concluding that Tav has zero survival instincts. She also jabbed him in the armpit with her thumbnail to keep him from making her a corpse.

Tav fully is aware Astarion's flirting and seducing is him using her - but she thinks he's using sex as a way to secure blood from her willingly rather than his actual plan.

Lae'zel, after having to save Tav's ass one too many times, teaches Tav how to use a sword. Wyll helps out. Everyone learns that Tav is not good with blades and she is informed that she is to stick near Astarion and snipe using her crossbow.

Halsin can pick Tav up one handed and has done so to keep her from rushing into potential trouble without a plan. Tav deeply dislikes when he does this and Shadowheart has compared her acidic looks to him to a disgruntled cat. Karlach calls this 'air jail'.

Karlach will also put Tav in 'air jail' from time to time after her heart gets fixed. Astarion nearly doubled over laughing at Tav's betrayed expression when it first happened.

Astarion constantly thinks Tav has some ulterior motive for letting him drink her blood that she is really good at hiding. He eventually begrudgingly accepts that she doesn't.

[etoilehistoire]

Dancing In the Firelight

The tiefling party. Featuring Xia, female human paladin. I've seen a few versions of the dialogue for this scene, so I picked one and then played fast-and-loose with it. This is furthering my agenda to let an asexual Astarion and asexual Tav romance each other without sex.

Astarion hated parties.

Or, well, no, that wasn’t true. Probably not, anyway. He’d hated Cazador’s parties, the ones he’d been forced to attend as eye candy and bait and spy, all rolled into one. And he hadn’t exactly had many invites since escaping to compare them to. But presumably, parties existed that he would enjoy. He’d almost certainly attended some before Cazador, and if he’d hated them, surely he’d remember that? So he probably didn’t hate all parties.

He hated this one, though.

Too many people, all of them simpering and thanking him for something he hadn’t wanted to do in the first place and still didn’t quite see the point of. Too hot. Too much noise. Terrible wine.

He grimaced and took another sip from the bottle he held. No, the wine was fine. A little dry for his liking – he preferred a touch of sweet – but perfectly serviceable. He was simply in a bad mood, and for reasons which had nothing to do with the wine and very little to do with the heat, the noise, or the people.

No, it was her.

Xia stood off to the side, sipping her own cup of wine and watching the festivities flow around her. Was she even enjoying herself? With that impassive face of hers, she could be judging them all for their frivolity and excess, or she could be having the time of her life, or anything in-between, and he’d never know.

And that was the rub. He was used to being able to read people.  His life had, after all, depended on it for quite some time. He was supposed to be the enigma, the one who hid his true intentions behind a faultless mask. Yet here she was, unreadable, and – worse – often giving the impression that she could see right through him.

The smart thing to do, the easy thing to do, would be to give up and make someone else his mark. Surely someone else in their little group would be more susceptible to his wiles – someone without her piercing stare or unsettling silences. But something in him rebelled. He wanted her.

Part of it was pragmatism. Paladins were the package deal, after all – a little magic, a little healing, and quite a lot of physical prowess. If he was going to go to all the trouble of manipulating someone into protecting him, why not go for the best? Part of it, he knew, stemmed from anger and a dark sort of humor. There would be something deliciously poetic in convincing someone so assured of their own righteousness to sleep with an undead creature like him, or to fight, not for innocence and valor, but for a bloodthirsty monster. But part of it, he wasn’t ashamed to admit to himself, was simply… pride. He’d never met a mortal he couldn’t charm or seduce if he set his mind to it, and it rankled that she’d resisted him for so long. There must be a way in, he was sure of it. Like picking a lock, it was just a question of figuring out where to apply pressure.

Well. No time like the present, perhaps. If she hated the party, maybe she’d be grateful for a distraction; if she was enjoying it, she’d be in a good mood. Either way, a festive atmosphere always lends itself to lowered inhibitions, and that could only help his cause. Taking another swig of (terrible)(fine, but too dry) wine to fortify him, he sauntered over.

“You know,” he said, sidling next to her, “I never pictured myself as a hero.” He glanced sideways to see how she reacted. “Never thought I’d be the one they’d toast for saving so many lives. And now that I’m here… I hate it.” He made an exaggerated moue, aiming for the funnybone he knew she kept buried beneath all that armor. “This is awful.”

She raised one elegant eyebrow, her cool expression never changing. “My poor vampire,” she deadpanned, her tone dry as dust. “Forced to endure the adulation of the masses. Truly, none have suffered as you do.”

Even at his expense, her teasing delighted him – it was more of a reaction than he usually got. “Yes, thank you for your understanding and your boundless sympathy,” he shot back, sketching a florid bow. “I’m just saying. We put forth all that effort, killed all those goblins-"

“Which you enjoyed.”

“-Which I enjoyed, yes, but for what? Some empty words, a little music…” He waved his bottle for emphasis. “And vinegar for wine?”

A second eyebrow rose, joining the first. Oh, yes, that was definitely amusement, and he relished it. “You got vinegar? Pity. I’m enjoying mine.” She took a long, slow sip, her eyes never leaving his, and inwardly he rejoiced. She was flirting back, finally, he was sure of it. “Maybe you should speak to someone about it.”

“Maybe.” He met her stare, brazen and bold. “Or maybe I’m in the mood for something more intoxicating than wine.”

She tilted her head, exposing her neck in a way that could have been accidental but probably wasn’t. “You fed last night.”

He chuckled. “Not that either, you little minx.” He watched her eyes. When she didn’t immediately shut down at the endearment, he considered it tacit permission to keep going. Leaning in, he lowered his voice. “I was thinking… what if you and I made our own entertainment?”

She took another sip, visibly considering the idea. “Intriguing thought, vampire. Our own entertainment. Now, what might that consist of?” Her eyes danced. “Touching, perhaps?”

He tried to keep his glee from showing on his face. “Oh, almost certainly.”

She took a step closer. “And movement, maybe.”

He smirked. “I think we would move together wonderfully.”

Even closer now, invading his space, close enough to feel the heat of her skin. “Exertion. Sweat. The rhythm of two bodies working together.” Leaning in, she breathed into his ear, “Ecstasy.”

Holy shit. He’d been working on a theory that the pretty paladin might be a virgin – it would explain her reticence – but that no longer seemed likely. He didn’t know if it was the wine or the flush of victory loosening her up, but either way, he was going to take advantage of it.  “I believe we understand each other, yes.”

She set her glass down on the nearest available surface, then ran her fingers slowly down his arm. When she reached his hand, she took it gently, her face lightening with a rare, slow smile. “Agreed.”

Then she turned and began to walk away, tugging him gently to follow.

Wait, now? Not that he was opposed, but it was certainly more sudden than he had intended-

Until she stopped in front of the bonfire, just as the musicians struck up a new tune, and began to dance.

He groaned inwardly. Touch. Movement. Rhythm. Of course. She’d been playing him, and he fell for it.

She was… quite good, actually. He’d long noticed her grace in battle, how every movement flowed elegantly into the next. She was, it seemed, just as light on her feet without a sword in her hands, stepping and twirling in perfect time with the beat of the music. Others had noticed too, coming to watch and clapping along.

Well. Two could play at this game. He might not have her innate grace, but he hardly lacked for agility; the next time she extended a hand to him, he gave in and joined her.

It was a challenge at first. It wasn’t a dance he knew; it might not have been an established dance at all, might have simply been her own improvisation. After a few moments, though, he realized she was signaling her moves, if he paid attention. A step here meant a pass there; a pressure on his hand indicated a twirl, and so on. His body found the rhythm of it quickly enough, and soon it felt natural. Moving into each other’s space and back out again. Circling each other, making contact and breaking it off. Watching each other, to the point where no one else existed, to figure out where they would go next. Now and then he tried his own improvisations, using her own signals back at her to indicate what they should do next, and felt a thrill when she immediately responded to his suggestions.

He was, he realized with no small amount of surprise, having fun.

At one point it dawned on him that she was smiling – not just smiling, grinning. At him. That almost shocked him enough to fumble his steps – Xia, of the cold stares and rigid face, looking at him with such open, easy joy. He hadn’t thought of her as beautiful before. He did now.

The music ended with a flourish and so did the dance; she stepped back and dipped a deep, elaborate curtsey, and he responded with an equally overblown bow. As they stepped away someone offered them wine; Xia took a cup and handed the other to him, then wrapped her arm companionably around his waist as they headed back to a quieter part of the gathering.

Emboldened by her arm around him, Astarion smiled at her and was rewarded with another sunny grin, the corners of her dark eyes crinkling with what genuinely looked like affection. “So,” she said, breathless laughter in her voice, and snugged him closer for a moment. “Entertainment enough for you, vampire?”

He grinned back, letting himself enjoy the moment… but then, with a wash of cold, remembered it wasn’t enough. A night of dancing, no matter how fun, wouldn’t net him the loyalty he needed. He had to bind her to himself with something stronger, something she would crave. He had to.

Still… it wasn’t hopeless. She’d had her fun, teased him and won, and now… now her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkling, her blood hot. He’d never have a better moment.

“Oh, of course,” he purred. “But was it enough for you? I think you know I was offering a different sort of entertainment.” He leaned in, pitching his voice low and smooth. “And, my dear, that offer still stands.”

Shit. Shit. It was the wrong move. He knows it – knows it as soon as he hears her sigh, so faint that non-vampiric ears would have missed it. Knows it as soon as he feels her arm loosen, snaking its way free from his waist.

What would it take? She liked him, he was sure of it now. It should have been easy. She was ripe for the picking, and yet every time he tried to pluck, she pulled back.

Like now. He watched as the light faded from her eyes, as the bright smile fell back into an exasperated smirk. She took his hand again, raised it to her lips, and kissed it gently.

Her lips were softer than he’d imagined.

“Good night, Star,” she said pointedly, dropping his hand, and turned.  Walked away.

Star. She’d never called him that before.

On the one hand, the evening was a bust. He’d thoroughly failed in his efforts, once again. He’d wasted his time, been beaten at his own game, and been made a fool of.

On the other hand, he was uncomfortably aware that he had enjoyed himself far more than he would have had his plan succeeded.

Watching her walk away, he took a sip of his wine. It was sweeter than  he remembered.

[sky-kiss]

Okay, your OC is a love interest, what does their first romance cutscene look like?

A/N: Sassy, this is such an amazing question. I hope it’s alright that I did it for my three main idiots (I have another, but he’s just an old man for Jaheira lol). 

Scrungus: (Cowboy lizard)

Being an Oath of Redemption paladin, Scrungus isn’t overly romantic. He’s very kind, but he’s more focused on the wellbeing of the group. The incident with the goblins leaves him a little down, so he’s melancholy post party. The PC has to seek him out. He gives you a little smile, tips his head. If you offer him wine, he politely declines. 

“Had to be done. Couldn’t have ‘em running along the coast, know that. Still…ain’t sitting right. Coulda done more. Shoulda, I reckon.” 

If you mention you would have liked to dance at the party: “Would have been good to see…ain’t much point killin’ if you’re not enjoy living.” 

If you ask him if he knows how to dance, or would have danced with you, he gives you a little grin. Yeah, he picked it up somewhere along the line. In a little village, years back, after a fight just like this. Used to be pretty good. But don’t hold him to it. He’d hate to step on your toes. 

If you point out that the goblins and the Absolute left you no choice: 

He agrees, but finds it unfortunate. Worse folks have turned their back on evil. 

If you go to hold his hand, he chuckles and moves it away. 

No offense meant, but he’s got one responsibility. Gotta see you through the city. No use muddling things. 

You spend the night talking about your past, his, maybe he tells you a story about some absurd devil or demon he talked round to redemption. It’s ridiculous. He lets the PC lean against his shoulder and doesn’t move them when they doze off against his chest. 

Evoi: (Evil, evil, evil AU!Joi; it’s early, and she’s…untempered) 

Goblin-party only. She’s turned on by the stink of carnage and the way you looked while slaughtering the Grove. She makes this very evident, very early into the party, sidling up to the PC, nosing their throat. 

Blood-slick, hunter-kin—soak in carnage, baptize her in your sweet cries. 

She’s going to fuck you. Consent is optional, sorry. Will lick every drop of blood off your character. It’s a lot of kissing and biting. Going to absolutely devour/go down on the PC. You’re her pet now (and she’s obsessive, crazy, generally the worst). 

Joi: (Amnesia Girl)

Joi still has no idea what’s going on or who she is at this point. The scene will have more variance compared to the above, based largely on player input. Most of  her reactions are going to be emulating the PC’s drive. I.e if you’re interested in talking, she’ll be softer and happily talk, but consistently direct the conversation away from her. If the PC is more forward and wants sex, she’ll fall back into that role. 

Is likely very similar to Astarion in that she’s unsure she wants to have sex at that point, but it feels natural, normal, and a way to like…establish rapport. And since she has nothing personal to offer, why not sex? It’s the best she can do. 

If the PC opts to take things more slowly, she’s comforted. Wants to hold the PC’s hand or sit in their lap/beside them. She’s naturally very physical, and the slow!route still reflects that. If the PC asks whether she enjoyed the party, Joi is puzzled and admits that she doesn’t know. Saving the tieflings felt strange, almost wrong, but she likes it. 

Platonic/Slowburn route: Joi asks your PC to tell her about their life, stroking their hair. She thanks the PC for sharing and kisses them. 

Sex route: Joi is enthusiastic, but distant. Leads the encounter, focused on pleasuring PC. The morning after, she is more conflicted and admits she did not sleep well.

[verathion]

confessions in the dark

wherein daphne is a companion (and rolan is also there lol).

2.5k words of how i'd imagine daphne's confession scene would be.

“Come with me, if you have a moment.” 

Rolan raises a silent brow at Daphne’s words, and the half-elf scoffs, shoulders shrugging as she waves her arms through the air in a moment of exasperation. The companions have been through the ringer, having just come back from the Gauntlet of Shar. There’s a buzz in the air around camp, what with the next step being to infiltrate Moonrise Towers and take Ketheric down. The tiefling is tired, tapped out of his resources; she can tell the last thing he wants to do is humor her. 

“Just—please. It will only take a bloody moment.” Daphne says, sounding more annoyed than she wishes she did. It irritates her to no end how he gets to her, makes her resolve break. But, she has to let her feelings known—she knows full well that they have no idea what tomorrow may bring.

It’s been interesting for Daphne to travel with two fellow wizards. Having grown up in a place where use of the Shadow Weave is common, seeing practitioners of Mystra's Weave has been eye-opening. Gale, of course, is an enigma—“Mystra’s chosen,” he calls himself. Growing up, Daphne has only ever known Mystra as an enemy—but Mystra held interest in him for a reason. He is particularly talented, and gifted for sure. Rolan, though…

Rolan is unique. Well, to Daphne. 

The way Rolan harnesses the Weave is fascinating. He twists it, makes it his own. Even though she’s not familiar with how spells are cast with the normal Weave, she knows his are different. She's watched Rolan and Gale compare notes, compare spellcasting tips, and she's fascinated with his technique. Rolan has even taken interest in her limitations with Mystra's Weave, and has helped her tap into it to cast spells she's never been able to before. To Daphne, he has a brilliant mind—not that she wants to admit it. He has the makings of a grand ego, should she stoke it. But Daphne can’t help but love his mind. 

Instinctively, Rolan has taken the lead in their little rag-tag group of tadpole-infected individuals. He’s been calling the shots, driving their actions. Daphne challenges him often, and they fight and bicker. But it isn’t because she disrespects his authority—it’s because she wants to know. She wants to know how his mind works, how he came to that decision, what good he thinks can come from such a call. She wants to know his vision. His hopes. His dreams.

Before Daphne knew it, she craved it: the bickering, the debates. She’d seek him out just to start something. It took her some time to realize exactly why she was doing this—gods help her, she likes him. Of all the places, the times to start falling for someone, the fate of the world in the balance isn’t what she would call appropriate.  No, she should literally be focusing on anything else. How to take down Ketheric. How to deal with the tadpole. But she can’t shake it: the want to be around him, to speak with him, to know him. She can’t quite call it love—no, not yet. But she’s starting to think she’d like to.

After a long, drawn out silence, Rolan sighs, closing the tome he was reading before placing it gently to the side. 

“Singling me out so you can kill me without witnesses?” He jests, slipping into a comfortable banter that he’s created with her. 

“No,” she says. “Not yet. I have a grand design for you, after all.” The grin that spreads across her face used to be a foreign feeling to her, but she’s grown more accustomed to it as of late, thanks to him. 

“Where to, then?” He asks, returning her grin. 

His acceptance causes her stomach to flip several times, and she wrings her hands nervously as she tries to remember her plan that has somehow suddenly completely escaped her. The tiefling gives her a stare, tilting his head curiously at her behavior, and she snaps back to her normal state. 

“Right,” she begins. “Follow me, please.” 

Rolan nods, and then she beckons him to follow, casting light—a spell he taught her how to use—on her staff to keep the shadows at bay. They travel a few minutes outside of the safety of the Last Light Inn, up a small path that he hadn’t seen before in their travels through the dark. The path twists and turns through the gnarled, dead trees, the occasional groaning from the darkness cutting through the eerie silence of these cursed lands. All the while, Daphne can feel Rolan’s eyes fixed on her back, and she looks behind her every now and then to ensure that he is still following. 

Eventually, the path leads to a patch of overgrowth, angry roots knotted over what looks to be the remnants of a structure. Daphne glides over the terrain, picking up her robes to step over a puddle of muck, and gestures for him to follow her further. As Rolan approaches, she enters the structure, sticking her glowing quarterstaff into the ground before she begins. 

“I brought you here for a demonstration.” The half-elf starts. “A little bit a vulnerability, I loathe to admit.” 

Rolan huffs a laugh. “Is that so?” 

“Don’t fucking gloat.” Daphne shakes her head. “At any rate, let us begin. Do you know what this place is?” 

“No,” Rolan shakes his head with a smile. “A ruin from a bygone era.” 

“Right you are, my most illustrious student,” Daphne says. “This place is long forgotten. Memory lost.” 

Daphne leans down and traces her hands along what was once the foundation, the stone cool and sturdy beneath her fingers despite its condition, smooth from the passage of time wearing away at the material. 

“I know my reputation: a necromancer, a practitioner of the dark arts. That, in combination of my upbringing in Thultanthar...well, they call me a Witch for a reason. But I am not to be feared. My colleagues seek power within the precipice of life and death. I do not. I seek knowledge in that same space.” 

Rolan watches as she waltzes through the space, a small smile creeping across her face. He’s captivated by her movements, her mysterious grace. At first, it chilled him to the bone, like she was a living depiction of death itself. Yet, now, he sees a different side of her and realizes that she doesn’t embody the fear of death. No, the gentleness of it. The eerie peace it brings in its certainty, like those who come to terms with their end on their deathbeds, encouraging their families that they are ready to leave. 

“The other night, I wandered across these lands by myself. Dangerous, I know. You can chide me about that later. But I came across this place, and asked the denizens of Last Light if they knew about it. No one knew. The story of this place has been lost to time. When I came back here, I noticed a small family plot behind it, beneath some roots. I gently deterred their remains, and listened to their story.” 

Daphne’s fingers move, and for a moment, the space is as it once was—her illusory magic bringing it back to life. Rolan smiles as he feels the tendrils of her Weave take form, and it dances along with his own, wrapping around his magical essence like a chill embrace. Her illusion brings warmth back into the space, four walls, a hearth, and a happy family. Two human children run about with reckless abandon, laughter filling the air. 

“The Eska family lived here,” Daphne says, walking through the scene as she dictates. “Trevor Eska built this house with nothing but his bare hands and hard earned coin. Not long after, he met a woman named Evaline, and the two fell in love and were wed. Together, they brought forth their twin children, Yve and Norn, named after Trevor’s late parents.

“Trevor was a potter,” Daphne leans down to pick up a pottery fragment lodged in the dirt. “His signature was his glaze—a special blend of materials that, when fired, would create a distinct crackling pattern. His children did not carry on his trade, so his craft died with him. Nothing like it has been seen in centuries.” 

Daphne lays the shard in Rolan’s open palm, and he inspects it. The tiefling uses a finger to wipe away some of the dirt that covers it, revealing the smooth glaze she speaks of—white, yet beneath the glossy coating, he can see a deep, blue web of the crackling pattern as described. Normally, he wouldn’t pay any heed to something like this. Yet, from Daphne’s story, he can see it in a new light. It is…precious, not just a simple shard. An heirloom. A legacy. He feels the breath leave his lungs as the weight of this little fragment suddenly becomes heavy in his palm. 

“Trevor’s pottery, his skill, his craft had been forgotten, his legacy lost. I carry it with me now. As do you.” Daphne smiles, using her fingers to close his over the fragment. “All of this to say: this is my passion. My drive. I search for knowledge. Others find it in books. I find it in the dead and their stories.” 

Her eyes look up to him, and Rolan realizes they are closer than they’ve ever been. In the midst of battle, they are leagues apart, slinging spells at their enemies, making sure their bolts don’t cross to create an even bigger mess. Now, the half-elf’s fingers linger on his own, her face barely a foot away. Rolan can’t help but catch his breath at the sight of her, her golden gaze framed by her thick, dark lashes. 

“Do you fear me?” She asks quietly, slowly moving her fingers away from his. “Like all the rest? Do you think my practice dark? My magic foul? Do you think me wicked?” 

Rolan’s eyes scan her for a moment, trying to discern her intent with her words. The warmth of her illusion still surrounds him, and for a moment, he’s captivated by her face in the light of her own magic. He memorizes every line, every freckle, every feature, capturing it to remember for the rest of his days. 

“You stand on the precipice of the dark, I cannot lie,” he says, voice hushed. “You walk among twilight of good and evil.” 

“Pretty words,” she says with a small smile. “But not an answer.” 

Rolan flashes her a grin, his fangs pronounced and proud. 

“I do not fear you.” He says finally. “I do not think you wicked.” 

At his words, her illusion fades, the two of them standing in the dark once more. Her eyes, though, still glow with the remnants of her magic, and they pierce through him like a blade. He happily accepts that blade’s sting. Daphne closes the gap between them, and places her hand back over his fist that holds that special little shard. 

“Good.” Daphne says, her eyes flickering down to watch her hand over his. “I do not care what most people think of me. They hear I am a necromancer, the city of my birth, and they cower. I’ve learned that it is ignorance, and to ignore it. But for some irritating reason, I care what you think of me. I do not want you to fear me.” 

Rolan’s breath catches for a moment yet again. But, he recovers, a sly grin creeping across his face as her words register in his mind.

“Is this an admission of something?” He asks quietly, as if the shadows that surround him can hear. 

Daphne returns his grin. 

“Perhaps.” She says. “I admire you, Rolan. I--” she clears her throat, removing her hands to smooth down her robes in a fit of nerves, “I care for you.”

Rolan’s eyes go wide, even though he knew it was coming. 

“Daphne, I—”

“Look here,” Daphne says, getting defensive because of his tone—the potential of rejection, “I am not asking for your hand in marriage or anything like that. I went through that once before—just—we don’t know what tomorrow will bring. Tomorrow, we will raid Moonrise towers. If something were to happen, and I hadn’t said a word of my feelings, I—”

“Stop talking,” Rolan mutters, and before she can retort, he leans forward and silences her with his lips.

At first, she’s shocked by the tiefling’s boldness, and she parts from him with a soft smack, her eyes wild as she scans his face for any sort of regret. 

Judging by his small smirk, there is none. 

They crash together once more, lips claiming one another in a moment of breathy passion. The half-elf is surprised by how warm he is—a gift of his infernal heritage. In kind, the tiefling is surprised by how cool she is, despite her living body—the practice of her magic no doubt influencing her body’s natural state. Their kiss lasts for what seems like an eternity, their lips gliding together in a rhythm only they know, but it must end eventually, and this time, Rolan parts from her, the smack just a little bit louder than last time. He rests his forehead against hers and lets out a breathy laugh. 

“Cal and Lia will never let me hear the end of this,” he mutters, eyes closed as he savors the coolness of her skin. “They’ve been making bets with the others as to which one of us would make the first move, as if I wouldn’t find out about it.” 

“Oh?” Daphne says with a smile. “Do you know the wagers?” 

“Cal and Lia are in the camp of ‘they’ll never admit it to each other, they’re both too proud.’ Gale, Karlach, and Wyll have bet that I’d make the first move. Astarion and Shadowheart bet on you. Lae’zel and Halsin have declined to place any bets.” 

“What a shame,” Daphne laughs, “that no one asked Withers of his opine.” 

“Oh, they did, the wretches. I believe Withers said something akin to: ‘The spindles of fate create a tapestry not unlike the Weave from which they both draw power,’ and Cal and Lia marked him as ‘undecided.’” 

“The rascals,” Daphne shakes her head, and then stands on her toes to plant a kiss to his forehead, right between his horns. Rolan laughs softly, using his hand to gently tilt her face back down so he can kiss her again and again and again. 

“Let’s take this,” he says through kisses, “back to camp.” 

Daphne smiles against his lips. 

“Lead the way.” 

[bonesandquills]

Little Star

Chapter One

Astarion X Reader

It had been nearly a year now since the Netherbrain was defeated, sent plummeting into the Lower City harbor waters. Baldur's Gate lay in ruins, but its citizens lived. Your party had survived, and now were regarded as heroes. You and Astarion now travelled the lands of Faerun, searching for a cure to you lover's vampirism. An impossible prospect, perhaps, but you'd already achieved the impossible. What was this one little task?

        The stars glittered overhead as you looked around the old familiar campsite, which now held tables laden with food and wine that you would've given your left hand for on that first night of your adventure. 

        You looked around, your heart swelling at the sight of all your companions gathered and speaking together, like they used to. It had been ten months since you'd all been together like this, and though you and Astarion had found yourselves very happy together, you had to admit that your own home felt empty when compared to the crowded closeness of the campsite you had inhabited for so long. 

        You looked over at your lover, and he smiled softly back at you, offering his hand. You took it gratefully and stepped into the camp, breathing in the fresh smell of earth and the forest. 

        "It is a rather beautiful night, is it not?" he said casually, glancing up at the stars. You nodded your agreement, but felt your heart ache a little. He never looked at the stars with the same admiration and reverence that he had held when he looked up at the blue sky in the daytime. You knew he missed walking in the sun more and more each day, and each moment only solidified your resolve to find a way to let him do so again. 

        The first person you ran into was Shadowheart, and you couldn't help but feel a little surprised when she threw her arms around you and hugged you tightly. Not that you minded. 

       "Shadowheart!" You embraced your old friend, and stayed there a moment before drawing back. She laughed and smiled brightly at you, while Astarion quickly excused himself to take stock of the table's wine supply. 

        "You've filled out a little," she teased. "I guess you've had some more substantial food than camp rations, huh?" 

        You rolled your eyes at the jab but smiled. "It's been nice... though I do miss sleeping under the stars sometimes." 

        The two of you chatted for a little while. She'd been travelling, visiting temples of Selûne, evading worshippers of Shar, generally just going her own way. You were glad she was doing well. She seemed... happy, a far cry from the morose Shadowheart you'd known when she followed Shar. 

        You bid her a temporary farewell and moved on to find your other friends. Karlach and Wyll, who'd both been braving the heat of Avernus together, fighting off Zariel's forces and searching for ways to repair Karlach's engine. The one-horned tiefling was as bubbly as ever, with a newly ignited hope at finally being able to leave the Hells. 

        "Can you believe it, soldier?" she said, after releasing you from her bear hug, which you managed to escape with only some mild flame flareup. "Right on one of those fuckin' imps we killed! Blueprints and a map to one of Zariel's very own forges!" 

        That excitement from her was familiar. She had been just as happy when she found out that Dammon could repair her engine enough so that she could have physical contact without singeing whoever she was trying to hug, but this was even more energetic and vigorous. She had hope now, more so then she'd had when she'd been forced to step back into the Hells. You still felt back about not going with her, but you couldn't have left Astarion. At least she hadn't been alone.

        The flames around her flickered as she chattered to you about the past year, brightening when she got excited and calming down again when she did. Like a visible mood meter. 

        Her presence was familiar and warm, in both the literal and nostalgic sense. You'd missed her chatter, her encouragement, her habit of dancing when she got excited. She and Wyll suited each other, in that regard. 

        Wyll, for his part, hadn't changed much either. His armor was new, adorned with what you thought might have been imp horns, but you didn't ask. He had a goblet of wine already, though you hadn't expected any less of him. 

        You moved on from the fiery pair, talking to each companion as you came across them.  Jaheira had fared well enough, helping her children to rebuild the city. Halsin had returned to the former Shadowlands, to assist the inhabitants in building new homes there. Apparently he had several dozen wards at this point, all of which he treated as his own beloved children. He asked you for stories, admitting that he'd run out of ones to tell the insistent little ones at bedtime. 

        Finally, you moved on to Lae'zel, or at least some form of her. She was cloaked in some shimmery purple sheen, and you could see right through her to the rocks and grass she stood in front of. She had the same proud and haughty look as she always did, though her gaze softened significantly when she laid eyes on you. She, physically, was still in the Astral Plane, continuing her campaign against the Lich Queen Vlaakith. 

        "For two months I trained the Knights of the Comet," she started, and you smiled slightly and crossed your arms, willing to let her play out her usual dramatics. "For two more I skewered kith'raki bellies. For two more yet, I travelled through Limbo." 

      You thought you could see a smile playing at her alien features, confirmed by what she said next. "But to see your face... it brings me even more pleasure than taking a royal inquisitor's head." 

        You couldn't help but laugh. That, coming from Lae'zel, was the highest form of praise. "I missed you too. How are you doing?" 

        She regaled you with tails of battles fought against the allies of Vlaakith, of an offered alliance between her and the leader of the githzarai. A powerful connection, one that was sure to raise her chances against the false queen that still had her people securely under her control. You didn't doubt that Lae'zel would succeed in bringing her down, though. If anyone could, it was the resolute fighter. She'd have her revenge, or she'd die trying.

        And by gods, did she not die easily. 

        You bid the luminescent form farewell and looked back around camp, seeing if there was anyone you'd missed. Suddenly, tucked away in some corner of the camp, you noticed a form that was glowing almost the same way that Lae'zel's projection was, yet... different somehow. And this image took the form of Gale. 

        You hurried over, excited, thinking that perhaps the pragmatic wizard had simply not found time to visit the party in person, and sent a projection in his place. 

        "Gale!" You greeted, looking into the glowing, empty eyes of the figure, and as he turned to meet your gaze, you couldn't help but feel that something was wrong. The glowing form moved methodically, without thought or real intent. When you spoke to it, you see any recognition in its dull eyes. 

        "Well met!" he said, his words empty of any real emotion, sounding more rehearsed then anything. "I am a magical projection of Gale of Waterdeep, and if you're seeing this manifestation it means I have prematurely perished. 

        The words hit you like a charging owlbear, and you felt your heart lurch painfully in your chest. Perished? Surely he wasn't... 

        "Alas," not-quite-Gale continued in his cheery tone. "It appears on this occasion I have been erased from this plane in both soul and substance, so the usual methods for re-vivification cannot be followed. I am, however, available for the duration of this spell to assist in the tying of any loose ends related to my recent departure from mortality." 

        You could feel panic setting in. You had been unable to keep Gale from going after the Crown of Karsus, the determined spellcaster too ambitious to let an opportunity to challenge Mystra's authority pass. But you hadn't expected... he couldn't be... 

        "...I missed you, Gale," you choked out, unable to think of anything else to say except what you would have said to his living form. "It's good to see you." 

        "Fortunately, I am here to help in cushioning that heaviest of blows," Gale said, smiling softly. "I have been entrusted with the delivery of a letter, to be given to the one who cared most for me in life." 

        The projection summoned a letter from somewhere and handed it to you. It was carefully tucked into a leather envelope, clearly meant to be kept safe from whatever it might go through to get to you. You started down at it, unsure of what to say, and just held it to your chest for a moment. 

        "And with that, I'm afraid my spell is waning," Gale said, and he looked at you with a small tilt of his head. "Is there anything else you need of me before I blink out of existence?" 

        Only Gale would have designed a projection of himself delivering news of his death to be so blunt. 

        You felt yourself tear up and suddenly stepped forward to hug him, which seemed to work only for a moment before he glowed suddenly brighter, and you felt your arms pass right through him. 

        You stepped back, tears now coming down your face freely, and you watched the spectral form begin to flicker and fade. 

        "... to think that godhood was worth giving up all this," the projection said softly, and for a moment you could hear a trace of him, of the real Gale, in his tone before he disappeared completely. 

        So that was it. Gale was gone. 

        You tucked the letter away and stumbled away from the place that the projection had stood, letting your feet carry you away to a place you could find comfort. 

        Astarion looked up as you approached, the smile fading quickly from his face when he saw the tears shining in the torchlight. 

        "Dearest, what's wrong? Are-" he didn't get to finish before you threw your arms around him and buried your face in his shoulder, shaking slightly as the emotions tore through you.

        He didn't say anything for a moment, just wrapped his arms around you in a comforting embrace, letting you sob into his shoulder for a while. 

        "There, darling... I've got you..." he murmured softly. "Whatever is the matter?" 

        You couldn't say anything still as you pulled back, so you just handed him the letter. He opened it and scanned over it quickly, his eyes widening slightly as he took in the words. 

        "Oh dear..." 

        "He's gone, Star," you said shakily, trying to keep yourself quiet. You felt bad for coming and falling apart on him when he was supposed to be able to celebrate, but you couldn't imagine going to anyone else. "He's... gone." 

        Astarion set the letter aside and gently took your hands again, pulling you back into his embrace. Though he'd grown a lot more touchy and cuddly in the past year you'd been together, you appreciated him being willing to hold you right now, when you were being so emotional. 

        You stayed there for a while, in the arms of your lover, while he comforted you gently just like you'd done for him so many times before, when he snapped out of nightmares haunted by Cazador's cruel image, when he broke down crying from the hurt of it all. 

        You never mocked him or called him weak for that. 

        The party continued, and after a while you were able to go and find some joy with your friends. Withers raised a toast, and you felt his words bring some comfort to you. 

        "The balance of the world restored. The balance of these lives, mortal or otherwise, brought to account." he said, his skeletal and shrunken face looking out over the gathered group. "Hear me, thou heroes, wastrels, friends. I have waited long to tell you these words." 

        He held his goblet up, holding it out to you in a toast. "It is over. For now." 

        "Thou played a part in weaving the fabric of fate itself. But for every thread you sewed, so did the gods unravel another." 

        You looked up at him, thoughtfully. The thought of gods and fate made you wonder what could have been, what might have been different if you had taken different action. Withers continued, and you felt as though he could hear your every thought, and was offering some sort of hope. 

        "Sleep, rest, revel. But be ready. For thou mayest yet be needed. Until we meet again, I wish thee every possible fortune. Health, wealth, love, but above all, problems worth solving." 

        He looked to you, and you could tell he expected you to say something. You looked out over all of your friends, and the ones you had lost, and raised your wine. 

        "To the greatest friends I could dream of."

        The simple words were met with cheers and agreement, and you felt a smile cross your face. Here you were, in the presence of friends, loved ones, the promise of lifelong comrades. 

        You could drink to that. 

        You awoke from your sleep/trance, every part of your body tense. Had you dreamed of noises outside your tent, or were you just hearing things? 

        Astarion shifted beside you. You could tell that he hadn't been asleep, but on most nights he enjoyed holding you close to him anyway, with the exception of those moments that he needed some space. He looked up at you as you sat up, and tilted his head slightly.        

        "Are you alright, my dear?" he asked, sitting up as well. "What is it?" 

        "I... heard something." 

        He opened his mouth to respond, to say he hadn't heard anything, when the sound came again. An unholy shrieking sound that you'd recognize anywhere. Feminine laughter, cold and cruel, and the roaring of flames no mortal could ignite in this plane. Mizora.

        Both you and Astarion grabbed for your weapons, and when you looked at him you saw that your spawn lover's face was split into a wide smile, and he grinned at you before he rushed outside. You could hear the others waking up and the clamor as they retrieved they also instinctively readied themselves for danger. 

        Astarion laughed and clutched his knives in his hands. "I guess we always do seem to attract trouble, don't we dear? Ah, I suppose peace was too much to hope for." 

        You shook your head ruefully in agreement and hurried outside, him following close behind then shimmering out of view as the invisibility spell took hold. 

        He was right, you thought, smiling as the familiar feel of adrenaline and instinct pumped through you, and you readied yourself once more to battle beside your friends. Some things don't ever change. 

[veilkeeper]

Astarion: Here's my little treat with their cheeks all flushed. You will come to my bed tonight, won't you? Roz: Very presumptuous. I'm undecided what I'll do tonight yet. Astarion: Ah, you need a bit of enticing, let me see. How about this one: All these accolades from the Tieflings are nothing compared to the sound of my name, cried from your lips. Roz: So many honeyed words, as usual. Astarion: Not half as sweet as when I tasted you. Hmm, let me give it another go: Every part of your perfect body whispers temptation - it's as if the Gods made you just to ruin me. Roz: And what else...? Astarion: I can go on all night with the flattery, but is that really all you want? How about if I said these little words... Everyone's favourite... I love you. Roz: Having fun, are you? Astarion: I am, it's hard not to with you. Now, as much as I relish standing around and saying all my favourite lines at you, I'd much rather we got to experience each others' full portfolio of talents once again.

trying to figure out how i feel about this scene. on one hand, the dialogue is obviously very fun on its own, but astarion is laying it on as thick as ever so it's still not real, though it does seem a little... overcompensating? especially since he's fully admitting he's using lines and pushing waaaay too far into the infamous I love you.

and it's not just because roz is playing hard to get: even if you pick the "you don't have to ask twice" line he has a whole thing about how he can hardly focus, he's so consumed by thoughts of their night together. he's laying it on thick no matter what branch of the conversation you pick.

something's going on, and i have a theory.

here's an alt dialogue:

Astarion: I love you. Roz: A little soon to say that, don't you think? Astarion: Well, it can be true, if only for tonight.

and then when you go to bed, he says:

Astarion: I hoped you would come. I have missed you. And now you're all mine, and I'm all yours. Until morning at least.

and here's what im thinking. if this were 100% him manipulating roz, he wouldn't keep emphasizing that it's just for tonight. but if it were 100% real, i don't think he'd be so over the top with his flirtations.

so i think its that he wants it to be real. i think his feelings are starting to get more complicated than just "here's a person i don't care about that i can manipulate", but he still feels his position is precarious enough that he 'needs' to have something with them that he can control. so i think he wants to pretend, if only for a night, that it is real - but he can't even do that. he has to keep tacking on caveats and assurances that it isn't. like drawing a line in the sand, not just for roz but for himself, too: he can pretend for tonight, but then he has to go back to the simplicity of detachment after.

because he admits when he confesses later that he's never done this before! he doesn't know how to be in a real relationship, he doesn't know what that looks like or what that feels like, and i think he wants it but he's afraid of it. and in this scene we're getting a fascinating mélange of that fear and desire mixing with his lack of foresight; he has a plan, so he's going to stick with it, even if it's probably a terrible idea with the way the tides are turning.

[ellekhen]

Hand, Hearth, and Home

Chapter 1 - A Warding Bond

Summary

“I… envy you,” Astarion admits. “In your short life, you already seem to have had your share of… experiences,” he smirks at him suggestively for a fleeting moment. “And much of it seems to have been… enjoyable. Willing.” He flourishes a hand. “You know what I mean.”

Church smiles wistfully. “I try my best, but it hasn’t all been perfect. I’ve had my share of… mistakes.” His mouth twists a little.

“I certainly hope I’m not one of them,” Astarion half-heartedly jokes.

Church looks at him earnestly.

“No,” he says softly. “You’re not.”

Astarion flounders for a moment at that.

When Church loves, he loves with the intensity of the sun. His childhood friends know this well. But, when it comes to his lovers, the warlock tends to wield a much lighter, cautious touch… that is, until he begins to fall hard for a certain vampire spawn. In their respective, wary calculations every encounter, Astarion and Church know they very well could be the death of each other. But as the trust between them grows, Church learns to let go of the past that holds him back from embracing the future — no matter how uncertain it may be here at the vampire spawn’s side.

Pairing(s): Astarion x Male Tav (Main); Past OC x Male Tav Rating: Explicit

@lumienyx tagged me in a “why/how did your Tav fall?” prompt, and whoops, it turned into a fic!

Excerpt below:

The rogue and warlock are searching through one of the infirmaries when the tiefling lets out a small, intrigued gasp.

“Oh!” Church murmurs. “It’s the other half of that pair of rings. Remember? We found one on that justiciar’s skeleton.” He pulls out the ring in question from his pouch, comparing the two side by side before passing them both over to Astarion. The rogue examines them as the warlock gingerly retrieves the journal from the withered skeleton’s grasp.

As he begins to read it, his mouth twists. “Oh…” he repeats, albeit softer and more troubled.

Astarion peers over his shoulder. “What is it?”

“The husband’s journal,” Church murmurs. “It tells… a much different story.” He sighs, handing it over to the rogue as well. “Poor bastard.”

Astarion skims through it. Poor bastard indeed — blissfully blinded by love when all the justiciar was doing was using him as a shield. He has to admire that it was clever of the justiciar to deceive the fool into such an arrangement. Although, by the sound of the sorry sod’s journal entries, if his dark bride had simply asked, he may very well have entered the arrangement willingly — warding bond be damned.

At first Astarion scoffs — he simply doesn’t understand people who would thanklessly sacrifice themselves just that.

…but then he thinks — just for a moment.

Does he understand? Just a little?

The more he dwells upon it, the rings’ magic as described between the two texts is certainly fascinating as a concept…

“What’s on your mind?” Church asks him, crouching down to tug a disintegrating blanket over the skeleton, for some reason.

“Well, you know,” Astarion hesitates even as he offers. Why he even offers is a mystery. “Remember… just this morning? Those… things by the river?”

The warlock’s hand flies reflexively up to his neck. “Meazels,” he grimaces.

“…meazels,” Astarion nods, gesturing emphatically. “Anyways. Since you have, hm, a tendency to take hits fairly heavily… why don’t we… you know…” he makes a gesture that would have been lewd under any other circumstances, if not for his sincere expression. “That way, even when you’re far off, I can still protect you? Take a couple hits?”

Astarion never fathomed he would ever offer such a thing to anyone. He had offered to take punishment on behalf of a sibling only once, and Godey and Cazador both made sure that he regretted it more than anything else in the moment. Violet never bothered to return the favor anyways.

But Church…

…misty-stepped right in front of the wretched creature, blasting it away before its claws could reach Astarion. Damn it, the rogue scolded himself, he had gotten sloppy. Then again, none of them expected to be ambushed by such vicious creatures, especially ones that would go straight after their casters to —

He heard a strangled gasp. A meazel leapt out from the shadows, his wire whipping over Church’s neck. Astarion only had a split-second for their eyes to connect before both the struggling meazel and tiefling went hurtling over the edge of the building…

In the present, the elf gives the tiefling a meaningful look. If Astarion has to haul the warlock’s lifeless body from the ground one more time…

“No.” Church says firmly, waving him away.

“Oh, well,” Astarion says, somewhat relieved if a little miffed by how quickly the tiefling rejected the idea. “At least consider the practicality…”

“I am not going to let you be hurt because of my own carelessness,” Church snaps. “You read that journal. It’s a curse, not a blessing.”

“There’s no need for that tone,” Astarion retorts, taken aback by its harshness. “Don’t pretend you wouldn’t do the same for me.”

Church’s mouth twists and he sighs.

“…fine. You’re right — I would. But I don’t want to use these at all. I think we’ve been doing a pretty good job at covering each other’s backs lately, don’t you?” He smiles wanly at his lover. “We’ve been doing this… right, I think.”

Astarion regards him with amusement as he pockets the rings. “Doing this ‘right?’ I suppose if one of us has any idea of what that even means, it’s you.”

Church’s smile is gentle as he shrugs at him. “I’m hardly an expert, Astarion. I just do the same for you as I would for any friend, just with… you know, more…”

Astarion steps close to him, smirking as he tips the tiefling’s chin up in a kiss. Church hums softly, stumbling into him in his enthusiasm.

…it’s followed by a dry crunch.

The warlock startles, gingerly stepping off of the poor bastard in his bedroll. “Shit, sorry,” he mutters unnecessarily.

Astarion watches him, fondly.

“To be honest, I admire how easy it is for you to define what is ‘right’ in an arrangement such as ours. It’s…” he wheedles, “…admittedly not my area of expertise.”

“I…” Church frowns. “We’ve talked about this. I just don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do. It’s not that hard.”

“You’re sweet,” Astarion smirks. “But it’s not that straightforward for all of us.” He sighs, reluctantly stepping away from the warmth of him. “Although with you — perplexing as you often are — sometimes it is that simple. It’s… refreshing.”

Church glances away a little self-consciously, a little worriedly as the elf continues to study him.

“I… envy you,” Astarion admits. “In your short life, you already seem to have had your share of… experiences,” he smirks at him suggestively for a fleeting moment. “And much of it seems to have been… enjoyable. Willing.” He flourishes a hand. “You know what I mean.”

Church smiles wistfully. “I try my best, but it hasn’t all been perfect. I’ve had my share of… mistakes.” His mouth twists a little.

“I certainly hope I’m not one of them,” Astarion half-heartedly jokes.

Church looks at him earnestly.

“No,” he says softly. “You’re not.”

Astarion flounders for a moment at that.

“Well,” he says with a flustered laugh. “That at least is a relief.” He leers conspiratorially at the tiefling. “Why don’t we brighten this place up? Tell me about the good ones.”

Church frowns at him. “Honestly, I’m not sure how I feel about—?”

“—Oh, come on!” Astarion waves him away. “It’s fine. I’m bored. Humor me.”

Church studies him for a moment longer, before chuckling nervously. “Well… I snuck into a castle one time to visit a duke’s son…”

“I bet Wyll wishes that were him,” Astarion remarks, and the tiefling blushes purple beneath his dusky skin.

“Oh shush,” he laughs. “I had to run out of there for my life, clad only in a chaperon.”

He thinks for a moment.

“There was a half-elf bard in Baldur’s Gate — D’vana, if you’ve ever heard of her during your… nights out? Green skin, white poof of hair?”

Astarion shrugs. He’s not much in the habit of paying attention to the entertainment of his hunting grounds.

“Anyways, I used to visit her whenever I stopped by the city,” Church continues fondly. “We’d…”

“…make music together?” Astarion finishes for him suggestively. The tiefling huffs a laugh.

“We tried once or twice, but as you saw with Alfira, I’m hopeless with a lute,” he says with a sheepish grin. “No sense of rhythm… oh, wait.” He flushes. “That’s… not what you meant, was it?”

“Were you one of those adventurers who had a lover in every city?” Astarion asks in amusement.

“Lovers?” Church laughs. “No, nothing of the sort. Just… moments. Flights of fancy. Good friends,” he concedes, “but nothing more.”

“Well, those all sound like incredibly delicious moments with those friends of yours,” Astarion says lightly.

He waffles for a bit. “So are we… is this the first time you’ve done… something… like… this?” He waves his hand. “Whatever the hells this is.”

Something unreadable flashes across Church’s face as he glances away for a moment. The levity drains from his face even as he smiles softly back at the elf. “Do you mean something recurring? Exclusive?”

“I suppose,” Astarion drawls.

Church looks down, fiddling with the strap to his pouch.

“There were… a few,” he says softly, but then he blinks and straightens up, shrugging. “But nothing ever ended well.”

“Hm, well that doesn’t exactly bode well for us,” Astarion quips. The last word rings in the stale air for a moment.

“Us.” What a concept.

“I…” Church laughs nervously. “I don’t want to think like that,” he murmurs. He looks around to make sure they’re alone before reaching and grasping hold of Astarion’s hand, covering it with his other. He looks up into the elf’s eyes. “If anything, the past has just taught me to treasure each moment I can get with you,” he murmurs. “I… want to make each one last in my mind. I want to make sure…”

He trails off, and laughs a little, nervously.

“We should keep moving, shouldn’t we?” he says. “This… this is hardly the place to let our guard down.”

Astarion catches him before he can move away. The elf peers into the tiefling’s starry, yellow eyes, which struggle to hold his gaze as he stares back at him. Church’s lip quivers for just a moment, and Astarion pulls him into a soft, lingering kiss.

“Don’t tell me I’m the optimist in this arrangement,” he japes quietly. “I… like this, Church. No matter how it ends.”

Read more on Ao3!

[hiddenbysuccubi]

Chapter 6 excerpt: the dance. Changed to 'you' format.

Everyone pitched in to set up and decorate camp for their gathering. A night of music, magic, drink, even debauchery. There were some who insisted on being moody, like Wyll and one of the Tieflings; Ikaron. No matter. You were going to enjoy yourself. You'd even borrowed a modest dress for the occasion from Bex, and were quickly downing a pint of ale as you watched and cheered on Rolan’s magic display. You hadn’t been to a party in… you couldn't remember how long. Damn. You'd been so young the last time, comparatively.

Refilling your mug you started on your second drink as you wandered around. Everyone was there, there were even children running around and playing games in the sand. Scratch, who you'd rescued just earlier, barked happily and wagged his tail as he jumped around the children. It was good that the Owlbear cub hadn’t joined your camp yet, the poor thing would be overwhelmed and run away. Then there was Halsin regaling Shadowheart with old stories while Lae’zel and Karlach compared battle techniques. You smiled, watching them all. Happy, too, to find that Gale was also occupied, entranced in a lyre performance given by Alfira. Volo was with them as well. And Astarion…. Astarion was on his own, getting drunk.

A little tipsy and fueled by alcohol, you decided to sidle up to the broody vampire. “So,” you drawl, “are you tired of being venerated yet?”

Astarian side-eyes you without lowering the bottle he has to his lips. “Yes.” he says as he finishes drinking. “It’s oh thank you Astarion for saving me, I’ll name my baby after you . How good and heroic you are- I can’t stand it! And you, you just keep offering to help! And I’m going along with it because!” at this he throws his hands up. “Because I don’t know why!” anymore, he laughs in a not so hinged way. Wobbling while setting down his bottle of Esmeltar Red, which immediately falls over onto the ground. Ignoring it in favor of wrapping his fingers around your wrist, Astarion leans in close, his gaze darkening. “I’ve had enough of being good, lover. Let’s get out of here~”

You can smell the wine on his breath, pulling yourself away with a cautious giggle. “Having fun?” you ask, nervous all of a sudden.

“I am, surprisingly.” Astarion answers. No deceit in his words. “It’s easy to. When I’m with you.”

“Uh." you squeaked, "huh.” fully turning the color of a ripe plum. “I’ve got to go check on… something.” you lie.

Astarion can hear the lie clear as day but he lets you go. Only stopping you to question, his tone betraying his vulnerability and hope, that “you will come to my bed.”

You nod before bolting. You figure you just need a moment to cool down by the waterfront, away from the crowd. Maybe you're not wrong that Astarion is warming up to you, but you can't afford to be fooled. This was still a man who would throw you to the wolves if it came down to it. This was still an Astarion who was sleeping with you, guarding your health, just to ensure his own skin would be protected. He used you to make you want to save him first, look out for him first. A ploy. An effective one, you could admit to yourself. Knowing that he needn't have bothered. You had just gotten too comfortable in this world, high on having successfully completed the game's first big quest. That was all.

---

You didn’t know how the lute had wound up in your hands. Finding yourself by the fire again, a small crowd amassing out of innate curiosity. Even Wyll had come closer to see what would happen. Suddenly not feeling the liquid courage which prodded you out, you swallowed hard as Alfira gave a confident nod in your direction, Karlach whooping. “Go on then, play it!”

You looked over and caught Astarion watching you. Could feel his suspicious yet amused gaze, hotter than the flames.

You stared right back, not breaking eye contact as you opened your mouth and began to strum. “Blood of my blood, dripping with love. I bring you a thing (that) you need most,” your voice gradually growing stronger, no longer wavering. Moving away from a head voice to your full bellied and more confident countertenor. You squint but can't tell if Astarion’s facial muscles are twitching at your words or if it's your imagination, so you close your eyes, focusing on the sway of the music and the anti gravity lightness fueled by the alcohol in your system. At some point, Alfira had begun to accompany your lute with a steady tapping on a nearby drum.

"You know I live to keep you safe, no better way that I can see, to, spend all the time while you're asleep." you implore Astarion to understand, with your words. "You know I live to be seen through.” Some of your audience begins to pair off, dancing slowly together. You note them and smile, before finding your way towards the elf. “I wanna be here and nowhere else. Rationing off bits of myself, so I can crumble at your side….”

“Lover, ah. Dear.” Astarion hisses awkwardly through his teeth. Keenly aware of every pair of eyes on them. “What are you doing?”

You roll your eyes at his drunken embarrassment, pushing your words mentally though the link you both share. 'They already know about us. I promise we’ll sneak away after, just dance with me?'

“Yes, yes,” he grits out, taking your elbow with one hand and twirling you with his other hand on your back, guiding you as your own hands are occupied with playing the lute. 'I’m going to fucking kill you.' he answers. At least you have a sense to look remorseful, he commiserates to himself as you continue playing and singing. As he holds your eyes, allowing you both to become lost in the moment. Far be it for him to stop a Bard from fucking Performing.

You barely hesitate before singing on, “Here is a heart, here is a heart. I made it for you so take it,” you croon, heartfelt, as you dance gracefully around each other. Your own steps obvious and unrehearsed, Astarion's effortlessly showing in his footwork that he had once been a noble. One who had danced at many balls, possessing a childhood of etiquette training. “Battered and braised, grilled and sautéed, just how you like it.” you breathe, ending the song "...like it". Bending at your waist in a small bow as the echo of the music drifted off. Unexpectedly, Astarion reciprocates. Dropping low into a sweeping bow himself, he takes your right hand from where it rests on the lute’s strings and presses a soft kiss to the back of it. Followed by turning your hand over to place another, more delicate, kiss to the inside of your wrist.

[junowritings]

Hey!! Hi!! Hello!! I noticed your matchups are open right now and I was wondering if I could get a BG3 matchup :]

I use any pronouns and have no gender preference!

I tend to be a bit introverted and like being alone but the second I’m around my friends I am the LIFE of the party and am usually the one to organize hangouts and parties among the group. Comedically enough though my friends typically compare me to Gale, usually calling me a recluse who “hasn’t seen the light of day in 3 years” lmao. I,,, may be autistic.

My hobbies primarily include art, whether that be digital, traditional, animation, 3D modeling or hell, playing guitar, ukulele or even the ocarina. I’ve also recently rediscovered my love for reading and learning languages (I’m currently learning Swedish lol). I also really enjoy traveling and will get out of town and occasionally out of the country whenever I get the chance. On a nice sunny day I’ve also been known to walk to the nearby park and just walk around barefoot cuz I like the feeling of Nature*tm*.

In a relationship I’m typically the person to initiate contact, usually bringing up date ideas and initiating physical affection and the like. I don’t mind PDA though I do generally prefer being affectionate in private. On that note, I am VERY AFFECTIONATE and once someone has accepted me hugging them it will be a WHILE till I let go lol. Besides the obvious physical touch I do show affection more often through sharing fun facts and the like :]

Likes: Physical affection, art, music, hanging out with my friends, chai, mochi, being in nature, anything steampunk and anything relating to pirates

Dislikes: bright lights, loud noises, extreme temperatures (though mostly hotter weather), people acting like they’re better than me

My strengths id say are primarily my creativity and initiative. Id also argue I have good planning and social skills.

My weaknesses primarily include my tendency to get overly focused on things and sometimes forget to take care of myself because of it ehe,,,

Thaaatt,,, should be all! Thanks <]

Heyya hi! :D You certainly can get a match-up! Been a hot second so I need to brush up on my BG3 knowledge, but I think I found a lovely fit for you...

Welcome to opposites attract. On this episode-

Whilst I’ll admit that at first you and Gale seemed like a potentially good fit, Rolan inevitably won out because I believe that you two would compliment one another really well and bring out the best in each other!

You keep to yourself initially, which Rolan is unsurprisingly respectful of; if there’s anyone you have to worry about needlessly bothering you when you’re not up for the interaction, it’s definitely not him. He understands that preferring to spend some time on your own isn’t a bad thing; he’s very much the kind of person to enjoy some alone time (though the chances he gets to actually do that are few and far between even after things have settled down lmao). Sometimes enjoying one’s own company is healthy and has its merits, allowing you to recharge after a long day.

The first time he sees you break from your shell though the contrast is rather stark. Rolan had already caught a few glimpses of the life bubbling under the surface of your otherwise introverted nature the more that you warmed up to him - but when he sees you in the company of your closest friends for the first time? He’s taken aback by the way you practically lighten up in their company. He’s heard others in your circle commencing that you’re the life of the party whenever you’re around, but the tiefling definitely didn’t anticipate that to be so literal watching you immerse yourself amongst friends with a renewed vigor.

The jokes your companions crack about your comparisons to a certain wizard of Waterdeep earn an eyeroll or two from the tiefling as he listens to them ribbing you over your occasional tendencies. He’s been on enough of your planned outings to know that’s hardly the case and will tell them as such, though it’s all in good fun thankfully - besides if you prefer to hole yourself away with your creature comforts, you’re always welcome to do so at the tower. Oftentimes the wizard will chime in on the usual banter to add that it’s a good thing you made an exception to that little reclusive streak of yours for him - it would have been quite the loss otherwise.

Your instruments always have a safe place in the tower, that’s assured from the moment you make any kind of mention about the instruments that you play. He says it’s because there’s few places as well protected as his home, so why not keep them there to practice if you ever come over to visit? In reality it’s all a not so hidden excuse just to hear you play. He’ll leave his office door open or linger on the main floor of the upper levels of the tower whenever he knows you’re about to start playing, acting as though it’s not completely obvious he’s actively listening. I personally think that Rolan would be quite partial to the ukulele, if only for how fluid the notes as you pluck at the strings. If you were to take a peek at the tiefling as you’re playing, you’ll find that he often stops what he's doing to bask in the melody for a little while, the slight tilt of his head towards the direction the music is coming from a dead giveaway that you’ve got his attention hook line and sinker. Speaking of the tower though, sorcerous sundries provides a wealth of entertainment for your rediscovered passion in reading. In truth most of the stock is ancient texts and magical tomes older than both of you combined, but whatever you find that peaks your interest is yours for the reading (once he’s ensured it’s safe and not somehow curse-laden - hells knows what’s in some of those things.) It’s the first sign that he’s actively vying for your affections - Rolan hopes to earn your approval through impressing you at every turn. So the moment you express a shred of interest in the books lining the shelves all around, he’s set. And perhaps he uses some of his new connections to quietly add a couple of actual reading materials to those shelves just for you, who knows~?

After the events of the main game, Rolan is rather stubborn about staying put in the tower and the gate in general. After everything that he and the other Teiflings went through just to get here, and honestly having experienced some of the worst things the outside world has to offer he’s set on sticking to the four walls of his new home, thank you very much. It can admittedly be a point of contention given his reluctance to explain how he’s feeling sometimes; coming off as downright stubborn until you learn that he’s not exactly opposed to the idea of traveling, it will just…take some time before that avenue opens up for discussion. Trips around the gate though are fair game for the early relationship. Rolan learns quickly to spot the signs that you’re plotting another day out - hears the hum as you mull them over and the way your mouth quirks when you’ve settled on an idea. Thankfully there’s some wonderful places in the city where the bustle of crowds and incessant noise struggles to reach, offering a respite for the both of you where he can enjoy the quiet of your company and you can get your fill of being out in nature.

You and Rolan are definitely on the same page about preferring affection in private. In the early stages of your relationship you may find that it takes a little while to warm up to your affectionate nature. He certainly doesn’t mind it - quite the opposite, as the guy is so blatantly wanton of any romantic gestures that you could very well reduce him to a mess in your hands if you wanted to. In the privacy of your own home you’ll find that the man is far more open with his own affection, tail curling around you as he slips into your arms. Please card your hands through his hair - even if you accidentally knock his horns a couple of times in the process you’ll be able to watch the stress evaporate from his body with each moment, sinking deeper and deeper into your embrace. Gods forbid you cuddle him lying or sitting down because once he’s truly relaxed in one place neither of you are going anywhere.

[rinwellisathing]

You're Awful, I Love You: Part 21

Enver Gortash/Trans Male Tiefling Durge

“Don't look so disappointed, my Dread Executioner. This plan will provide you all the bloodshed you crave, I promise.” Gortash led him to sit down at one of the work benches. “You see, when you showed me your tyrant statue, particularly the crown you designed, it made me think of an artifact I heard about when I was growing up. The man I was...apprenticed...to was obsessed with it. I'll explain it in more detail later, but rest assured, as you told me I am your muse, you've quickly become mine as well.”

Sentry looked up curiously. He wasn't sure he'd ever inspired anything, well, other than fear and silly rumors with his yet unsolved years long murder spree. It felt good, he felt powerful, like he had influence, and more than that, influence over a chosen of Bane. Like puppeting a puppeteer. A smile formed, growing into a toothy grin. “And you say this plan will provide me with plenty of victims...parts...materials?”

“More than you could utilize in a life time.” Gortash sat beside him, reaching for a pen and ink. “Now...shall we?”

Sentry began to fish around in his satchel for the book he'd referenced only to find that Enver had already placed a well read copy on the work table next to the spare parchment. “Hey, you said you only read that in passing.”

“Did I?” He smiled teasingly. “Perhaps compared to some of the other ones, but I must admit, these copper dreadfuls were a comfort while I was growing up.”

Sentry nodded. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Did you read the one about the artificer who creates life from a corpse? I think that one would really speak to you.”

“I did, and you're not wrong.” He nodded, opening the well worn book and beginning to thumb through the pages.

The two sat deep in discussion about what they could learn from the code the killer in the book used and how best to adapt it to their own uses. Hours passed as the discussion shifted between business and their favorite copper dreadful plots. Sentry barely noticed his tail flicking back and forth like an excited dog as the enthusiastic discussion continued well into the early hours of the morning.

Yawning and stretching, The Executioner realized he should probably head home and make sure Fel had properly reanimated as well as deal with the earful he was sure to get from Gabraela for sending him back in the first place (Though really, he had been very clear on the topic of breeding and his thoughts on it.)

“You're sure you won't rest here? You could sleep in my bed while I work.” Gortash offered as he and Sentry climbed the stairs back to the locked room together.

“What, work? You need to sleep too. There is no way you got any kind of rest yesterday before I got here. You're human, your body needs sleep.” The tiefling folded his arms across his chest.

“I do quite well without it most days.” The Tyrant replied dismissively.

Sentry rolled his eyes. “Oh yes, I can tell. You look so well rested all the time.” the sarcasm dripped from his voice.

“At any rate, there should be a gift for you waiting at your temple. The messenger I sent claimed to know the way. Just a little token of affection.” Enver changed the subject as the two reached the window.

Sentry grinned. “Well, I do enjoy gifts. Great change of subject, really.” And he leaned in for a kiss, nipping at his partner's lips affectionately for just a little taste before turning to begin his climb down.

When Sentry arrived home, he found the path to the temple splattered with more blood than usual. Three corpses wearing armor with a serpent emblem were strewn about the path in varying degrees of having been chewed and eaten. A smile crossed his lips, this was certainly a good start to a thoughtful courtship gift.

His expression changed to a gleeful smile that lit up his scarred face when he crossed the threshold to see that Tomi was setting plates of meat down before three large healthy looking gnolls at one of the tables in the common area. The creatures' snouts and claws were matted with blood and they chittered and made those delightful giggling sounds as they sniffed at the offering.

“Oh, welcome back brother dear! I heard a commotion outside the temple and found these darling creatures wandering outside. There was a note on one of those Zhentarim courier corpses and it seems these beauties are to be your new friends.” She explained with a knowing smile. “You must teach me your seduction techniques if this is the kind of gift your plaything gives you.”

“Plaything...yeah...” Sentry managed, walking slowly down to the table and looking over the creatures. “Oh hello, aren't you all so beautiful?” The colors of their fur, the spots where it was falling out. The perfect inspiration to add color to his latest work.

[silksworn]

A heavy missive is personally hand-delivered to Lord Enver Gortash’s desk early on a spring morning. The stoic tiefling who has brought it does so without a word — unsurprising, as she had a violent parting with her tongue many years prior. She stares for a few long moments with unblinking emerald eyes before she takes her leave. Admittedly a strange girl, she is Sorceress Iraestra’s sole apprentice, and the only soul she would likely trust with the task. 

The heft of the package is made up primarily of an ancient tome, kept in good condition with a clever spell or two. Although written almost entirely in a mix of Undercommon and a corruption of dwarven script, many of the passages are painstakingly translated by a looping scrawl that Gortash is likely to recognize. The book’s contents quickly reveal themselves to be fractured musings on the alien nature of aberrations, their history, and the Far Realm. 

A few pages of vellum contain a letter by the same hand. Incense and iris-scent still cling heavily to the parchment. As she is wont to do, Iraestra does not bother with a greeting, starting into the body of the letter with little pomp:  

Hjalrik Grimpride of the Dueregar clan Breitbarth considered himself a scholar. You and I would likely classify him as a madman upon first, or maybe even second reading of his “works”. Indeed, you would be hard-pressed to find his writing in any mother matron’s library outside of my own house. That, however, is the dangerous trappings of an egotistical mind. Our friend Hjarlrik may have his ranting passages seemingly without end, but they are a result of a lifelong fascination he held for his people’s natural enemy: the mindflayer. So enamored was he that he sought out a colony to live amongst the creatures, and was a thrall for many years. Whether he was of an unsound mind before this, I cannot say.

He direct contact with them provides an illuminating view of the illithids, their hunting and reproductive habits, and goals that precious few ever live to tell the tale of. I have transcribed for you only that which you will find of interest, and spared you the rest. Do not ever say I am not fond of you. 

The letter continues to further discuss the merits of lived experience, and how much of Hjalrik’s words she thinks are trustworthy. She elaborates her point with the dangers of extended psionic use often manifesting with signs of madness if done so foolhardily. At this, she makes a rare mention of a younger sister, who she compares to a rabid dog that she regrettably had to put out of her misery. There is only a little sorrow in her prose; Iraestra seems mostly detached from the event as she clinically describes the early symptoms of her sister’s insanity that she should have noticed.

Upon the last page she turns to more personal matters. 

I trust the gate is still as unwashed and unpleasant as ever? I can never seem to discern if you speak of your city with adoration or disgust; it could be argued that one cannot exist without the other, for you must have intimate knowledge of your subject either way.

Strange, that in all the years I have been on the surface that I have never gazed upon her infamous visage. I would have come myself I think, to see the gate with your guidance and commentaries, but I must keep watch over the subjects here at Moonrise. With the latest batch I managed to delay ceremorphosis for nearly a fortnight before they succumbed to their cerebral passengers. They did not posses their senses for most of the time they were still themselves, but progress is progress. Preservation of the mind remains my primary goal. 

The assistants Ketheric provides me with are dull company. A fair number of them would be more useful as test subjects. How many times have I turned, seeking your counsel, and found you are not there these last few months? Dare I say it, I almost would admit to missing you. Or at least, the abyssal turn of your thoughts and your wit. For who else am I supposed to debate the nature of godhood or morality with for hours upon end? Words upon page are a poor substitute. You have few equals, Enver. 

The bloodwine you brought upon your last visit was decadent. Please do so again. 

Take heed with the vials I’ve included, and do keep it away from light if you intend for it to have any effect. Drow poisons are not made with the vile heat of your blighted sun in mind. You’ll find a selection of three of my favorite tinctures, for use however you desire. Blindness, deafness, loss of the senses — I trust you already have their use in mind as you read these words.

I have also attached my latest research notes. Your criticism would be welcomed. 

May you walk the hallowed path of our Dark Masters, 

Mistress Iraestra Oblodra, Magus of Myrkul 

@fatewoven

[orpheuschains]

A documentation of the others in the group Innocent

Six Star: Tabaxi, swordfighter, seeming passive arcane properties, constant scent of mint. She is timid, but has her uses in her intelligence and tracking properties, even if she unfortunately seems quite empathetic to the lower castes. Seems to be fond of me, seeing me as a safe bed compared to the tumultuous nature of the others. Overall, quite beneficial to keep around, I will endeavour to leave a mark on them visible.

Guilderoy Orsin: Halfling, arcanist. By far the most unpredictably present of the group, is rarely present when I have need of him. His arcane knowledge is of an academic sort, and served his use when my own magic was taken temporarily suspended. On the other hand, he is violently secretive with his magic, and unwilling to discuss further the markings on his flesh written in (presumably) halfling. He distrusts Eurydice, the cretin. No use marking him yet, but I will endeavour to maintain a working relationship with him.

Hertz Stoutmeir Samson Pierce Orpheus Lionel Richie  Jean Cloudspirit: Human, swordfighter. Jean is by far the most difficult to work with in such an endeavour as this. He refuses to bend the knee when needed, and acts as if I am weak for doing so. He is loud, messy, and makes no effort to hide his emotions when in the presence of those who we need to like us. Contrastingly, he seems to trust me enough to disclose his past relationship details, of his deceased girlfriend and regrets regarding that. He refuses to let her go, to do what must be done to grow oneself beyond such petty things. Though he is impulsive, he does share the fruits of such with me (such as the copies from the Mancini mansion). Most frustratingly of all, he refuses to admit his own selfishness, saying all he does is for the greater good. I will, again, endeavour to mark him, though I fear it won't be of much use if he keeps drinking so heavily.

He is needed. I need him for now.

Addendum

Sirvyr Van Wirrel: Tiefling, bard. A musician, who seems to favour the violin. Easy to speak with, in a way that I would have more distrust for if it wasn't such a convenient breath of fresh air, not to mention their capacity for illusory and healing arcana. They seem to enjoy gambling, which is again a stroke of luck should they be needed. I find myself appreciating them, even if they may be lying, they keep their word at least regarding matters of coin and while I fear they are another who doesn't value the order things are meant to be, they at least seemed to know enough to not make waves in their own skin. Once we have reached our destination, I will endeavour to mark them

[arclundarchivist]

Home, Again.

(Spoilers from Campaign 2 Episode 141, it has been a lovely ride, and I will admit, this mostly going to be me getting a bit into my own personal fantasy, but I hope it is enjoyed.)

Caleb, a little grayer in his hair, stands on the beach staring out into the ocean, a wide smile on his face as he turns and sees several small forms racing about, clashing fake swords, delving into the water cautiously, or just doing what children are want to do. Veth's little "camp" had picked up steam, numerous children from across the breadth of Nicodranus coming to learn how to be, well, how to play at being adventurers. He'd managed to take a bit of time off from the academy, nervous still about the prospect but...he'd been drawn away for an excellent reason.

His family.

Nine years had passed since their battle in Cognouza. Nine years since they had become the unsung, though oft whispered. heroes of all of Exandria.

He'd seen them all from time to time across the years, coming together for birthdays and moments of joy and surprise, but now, was a time for true celebration.

He turns and spots Veth and Yeza, standing shoulder to shoulder nearby, watching the waves roll in, hunting perhaps like he was, for the behemoth that was the Nine Heroez to pull into port. On Veth's hip is a little girl, with a mane of curled, wild hair much like her father with a deeper skin tone like her mother: Molly.

Veth turns and looks up at him, "Do you seem anything?"

"Not yet, but they'll be here. I can't imagine they'd miss this for the world." Caleb responds, squeezing her shoulder before reaching down, letting the gently cooing Molly take his finger and squeeze.

He turns and looks back, spotting several other figures arrayed across the beach that he had reached out to in the planning of this event.

Shakaste is perched on a rock, telling a soothing story to an enraptured crowd of kids, which included Luc, and to his amusement Twiggy, who had arrived at the party seemingly out of the blue.

Running towards him, chased by her youngest adoptive siblings is Kiri. Veth invited her family to partake of Nicodranus and allow the kids a bit of fun during the summer months.

Kiri skids to a halt kicking up sand, standing almost to his chest now, several makeshift bandoleers and her collection of tinkered baubles resting on her chest and along her belt. She smiles up at him widely, chirping excitedly.

"Come on! Beau, Yasha! She's probably a good egg!" Kiri warbles, mimicking several voices she'd heard, tugging on his and Veth's hands.

Laughing, Veth passes Molly to her husband, and the pair allow Kiri to drag them all the way to the edge of the beach, where Beau and Yasha are approaching. They both look a bit older but more at peace, Yasha dressed in dark but less severe clothing, hints of Dynasty garb on the both of them. He also notices two figures walking a step behind them, looking a bit shy.

"I missed you!" Kiri crows, darting for the pair and hugging tight to their legs.

"Hey, Kiri," Beau says with a soft smile.

"Hello, Little Bird," Yasha says, giving Kiri a head scritch.

She coos cheerfully before darting back up onto her perch and scanning for signs of the others.

Beau looks at Caleb and wraps him in a tight hug, "Hey, Professor."

"Expositor," Caleb mutters, wrapping his arms around her and then doing the same to Yasha, who practically picks him up off his feet.

Beau kneels and hugs Veth, whispering, "Chaos Crew!"

"Almost." Veth states, "Hopefully, she'll be here soon."

Caleb looks past his dear friends and blinks in surprise as he spots Beauregard's Mother and younger brother TJ.

"Oh, uh, hello, thank you for coming." Caleb mutters, rubbing the back of his head, "I don't know if you remember me. I'm Caleb Widoghast."

Veth narrows her eyes slightly at Beau's mother: "Veth Brenatto."

"Clara, I do remember you," she remarks, nodding to them both briefly.

"Good, because I-" Veth begins only for Beau to place a hand on her shoulder.

"Down, Veth," Beau remarks, earning a chuckle from Yasha.

"Fine," she remarks, still giving Beau's mother a bit of a stink eye.

"Please, make yourself comfortable. There is some food and drink nearby, and blankets to spread out as you wish," Caleb states.

"Thank you," Clara says, turning to leave the four of them while TJ hangs back next to his sister, looking up at her uncertainly.

"Go have fun." Beau says, pointing to Luc and Kiri, "Those are the other kids I was telling you about, just don't get into too much trouble, okay?"

TJ gives her a shy grin, "No promises."

And then runs off, Caleb noticing the small sticks that he wears across his back.

"A chip off the old block, eh?" Caleb asks as Beau throws an arm around him.

"Not exactly, way more shy!" Beau states, looping her arm around Yasha's as Veth grabs his hand, "Four of the Nine, any words on the others?"

"Not yet, but they'll come," Caleb says.

"Good, I brought you all flowers from our garden." Yasha states, holding up a new book, filled to the brim with dried flowers, "You both look very good."

Veth smiles: "I'm with my family, and even more are on the way; I'm wonderful."

Caleb nods: "It will be good to see everyone again."

"Speaking of everyone," Beau states, unlooping her arms from her partner and friend, "Yo, Shakaste! I think it's past time you and I compared notes on some things."

Shakaste turns from his story to Luc and the other kids, the former getting dragged away by Kiri for a conversation with TJ, while Twiggy looks around him and her face widens in a deep grin.

"I mean, I agree, but I thought this was gonna be a day of fun, not work?" Shakaste remarks with a knowing smirk.

"I can do both," Beau says with a shrug of her shoulders as she walks towards them.

"I have notes too!" Twiggy cries, darting towards Beau and beginning to ramble, while Yasha turns and walks towards Yeza, the pair beginning a softer conversation as Yasha, ever so gently gives her hand out for Molly to play with.

Caleb and Veth end up sitting shoulder to shoulder on the beach, waiting and watching as their friends and number of children mill about them and are deep in conversation, when the sound of a firework going off draws all of their attention.

There is a collective jump amongst the party, the more martial figures immediately going on the defensive, with Yasha pushing Yeza behind her only for it to be quickly revealed to be Kiri once more, tearing away from Luc and TJ, now shouting.

"Jester! Jester! I missed you!"

Not a moment later, Twiggy is peeling off as well, with Veth, Caleb, Beau, and Yasha at a more sedentary step behind as approaching them arm in arm is Fjord and Jester, wide smiles on their face, Nugget loping ahead of them and teleport tackling Luc, who falls with a laugh as the dog begins licking his face.

Behind them, walking arm and arm is The Gentleman and Marion, followed by Orly and Vandren, and next to them, to Caleb's surprise, is Caliana.

"Kiri!" Jester cries out, sliding to her knees and wrapping the young Kenku in the tightest hug and spinning her about, revealing the swaddled bundle on her back which giggles in surprise at the momentum.

"And Twiggy!" Jester cries, drawing the gnome into a tight hug as well before ping-ponging to her friend with deep, tearful hugs and cheek kisses, going from Veth to Yasha, to Beau, and then to Caleb.

"Veth, so, about the Detective Agency...I'm sorry that I've been so busy...but." Jester began as she hugs her.

"Don't worry, Jessie, I'm glad you're here," Veth says, hugging her tightly.

"Yasha, my god, you look so beautiful! I missed you so much!" Jester cries, running her fingers through flower-filled hair.

"Thank you, Jester, I missed you too." Yasha states with a soft smile as she looks down over Jester's shoulder into the teal face of a small Tiefling toddler, the hint of a tusk coming in on the left-hand side, "And this little joy."

She tickles the bottom of his chin, eliciting a laugh, a smile widening on her face: "Hi, Charlie."

"Beau!" Jester cries, pulling her into a bone-cracking hug.

"Hey, Cutie." Beau returns, hugging her back and patting her cheek.

Jester giggles and then turns to hug Caleb, a soft but deep embrace, "You look very happy, Caleb."

Caleb whispers back, "I am happy. So very, very happy."

Fjord walks up next, looking down at Veth: "Veth."

Veth looks up at him with narrowed eyes, "Fjord."

They stare at each other for a moment before wrapping each other in a hug, "You look good, Fjord."

"I feel it." he returns, "And so do you."

Yasha and Fjord clap hands together with a smile while Beau comes in on the other side and punches him playfully on the shoulder.

"You know neither of those hurt as much as they used to." Fjord states with a grin.

"Good, where's Kingsley?" Yasha asks.

"Well wouldn't you know it...the tricky bastard went off and made himself into a pirate." Fjord said with a laugh, "I...I don't know if he'll be here."

Yasha looks down a bit crestfallen, "Oh."

"This does mean, though, that I need my old first mate back if she has an inkling to come to sea, just for a bit." Fjord said with a slight smile, looking to Beau.

Beau smiles and shares a look at Yasha, who shrugs but smiles softly. "Maybe, maybe."

"Nice to see you again, Caleb," Fjord says, pulling him into a hug.

"Nice to see you too, Fjord," Caleb says.

"Gangs almost all here; it's been quite a while, hasn't it," Fjord says.

"It has." Caleb agrees as he watches Jester place her son into the arms of her mother and then scoops up Kiri and twirls around with a laugh.

"Mighty fine to see all of you again, ain't that right, Miss," Orly says, nodding to each of them and nudging Caliana.

"OH! Yes, of course. Hello, again, Mr. Caleb, Beau, Yasha," Caliana states, with a nervous bow before looking at Veth and opening her mouth a bit awkwardly.

"It's Veth; good to see you again, Miss." Veth says with a smile, "How have you been?"

"Well, I..." Caliana begins, blushing slightly, only for Jester to spin by interrupting.

"We found her when we stopped her in Port Demali! Kingsley did actually, and then we caught up, and Fjord managed to convince her to join our crew, and she has been very helpful with the magic things at times like you were Caleb, and sometimes she scares the living daylights out of people that try and steal from us!"

Calianna blushes deeper, "I don't mean to."

"She's a good crewmate, and a good friend, speaking of which." Fjord says, turning to the older man beside him, "Vandren, this is my family, not everyone, but most."

Vandren gives them all a once over, "Eclectic group. Makes sense. Nice to meet you. Any drink to be found?"

"Yes, right over there," Caleb says, pointing towards a large picnic table.

"Right, Orly, let's get to it," Vandren says, clapping Fjord on the shoulder and heading over, followed by The Gentleman, who gives each of them a respectful nod, kissing his daughter on the cheek as he passes.

Marion smiles at them all, "I'm glad to see you all healthy and hale. You've all had quite the journey."

The assembled Nein shared a look, "That we have."

Jester smirks and then speaks up, "Speaking of which..."

She enters into a tirade of her and Fjord's most recent adventurer's interrupted at times by Fjord and a more tentative Caliana, while the others listen, sitting down as the sun hangs lower and lower in the sky, Veth's students heading for home, leaving the children adjoined to the party alone to chase each other, play fight, and ride about on Nugget. Charlie spends much of the time in his Mother or Father's lap, occasionally being passed to Yasha, who at one point ends up holding him and Molly in a moment of what Caleb could only describe as awed bliss, as their respective parents got drawn away by something.

A while later, Luc turns to trying to entertain them, showing off the few cantrips he'd learned to the other kids, including the assembled Shusters, and TJ. Kiri makes a game of picking at him after a bit.

As he begins talking about how strong he will be, Kiri walks up and pokes her beak directly into his ear.

"Kiri! Don't embarrass me in front of my apprentices!" he cries with a bit of a blush as Kiri made a joking kissing sound, gesturing to Molly and Charlie who stared at the pair in the muddled, joyful confusion that is Toddlerhood as they rest on their respective parent's laps.

"I don't think a little peck is all that embarrassing." a low voice states, drawing the assembled Nein's attention to a tall figure, his staff glowing a low pink, a wide smile on his face as Caduceus Clay approaches with several others in tow.

"Sorry, I'm late," Cad says, not even pausing as an elated Luc races for him and jumps into his arms, "I had a few friends to pick up."

Calliope waves, "I'm just his tagalong."

Behind her stands Nila and her son, Keg, quickly dashing out a cigarette and looking more than a little awkward, with Reani at her shoulder.

"Hello again," Nila states with a soft smile as the other curious youngsters readily approach her son.

"Long time no see, heard y'all did some really good work." Keg states with a smirk, sharing a look with Beau, walking over, and hugging Veth.

Reani darts over to Jester, wrapping her in a hug, then several of the others, cooing over the babies for a second before tackle-hugging Beau and then Caleb.

"Hey, Reani," Beau says, looking a little awkward but still happy to see her.

"Hey guys, also thank you, Caleb, for sending him my way."

"Him?" Caleb queries, a bit confused.

Clay walks up, hugging Fjord deeply, and then Jester and Yasha: "God, it's good to see you all again, but as I said, I had some friends to pick up."

And out of the shadows, melting into view with a soft yet nervous smile on his face, comes Essek Theylas.

"Hello everyone." he states, eliciting a few gasps and a tackle hug from Jester, "And let's just say Reani, and I have been working on...seeing all the colors and shades as it were."

He gives Beau a pointed nod.

Reani smiles, "He's a sweetheart."

Caleb gets to his feet, walking over to Essek with a cautious smile, "Welcome back to the Mighty Nein."

"Glad to be back...if just for a little while, it will be good, to..." he pauses, looking deeply into Caleb's eyes, "Take a bit more time with you."

As Jester lets him go, Essek slowly glides towards Caleb, and he feels their fingers intertwine, a soft smile growing on both their faces.

He turns and notices a few smirking faces amongst his friends, while the adjoining members are beginning to shuffle about and begin conversing, Reani and Twiggy hitting it off like an unending wildfire, while Keg mills about before choosing to sidle up to Caliana and begin asking her questions, Shakaste sits down next to Caduceus and begins to query him on how everything is going in his neck of the woods.

Fjord looks around at his family as several fires roar up around them. TJ, Kiri, Luc, the Schusters, and Asar are sitting around their own cooking marshmallows, watched by Clara, who has found herself the subject of affection for Nugget, his large head now splaying across her lap. Jester is sitting between Fjord and her Mother, Charlie asleep on her lap, head on her mother's shoulder, with her and Fjord holding hands. Beau is leaning against Yasha, next to Yeza, holding Molly while Veth sat between him and Caleb, with Esseek on his other side, their fingers just the faintest bit intertwined. A bit back from the fire, behind Fjord and Jester, Nila, Cad, and his sister are leaning forward, Cad's hand resting on Fjord's shoulder. Calianna sits next to Fjord, while Reani and Twiggy sit across the fire from Yasha and Beau. Vandren, The Gentleman, and Keg are deep in conversation at the nearby picnic table while Shakaste and Orly are seated between the Nein's fire and the kids, the former humming along as the latter plays some softer music.

"Gangs all here finally." Fjord remarks, "And on a beautiful night too."

"Well...almost all of them are here," Yasha states, somewhat sadly.

"No, everyone." a familiar voice states, as coming across the sands is Kingsley Tealeaf, with Marius in tow.

"Hi there, Angel, there was no way I was missing this party, especially since Joybuzzer reminded me every day about it," Kingsley states, kissing the top of Yasha's head as he walks by, doing the same to Jester and then clapping Fjord on the back and gently hugging Caliana as she scoots over.

"You too?" Essek asks with a knowing smile.

"So it would seem." Kingsley returns as Marius walks by, headed for Orly.

"Kill anyone yet?" Fjord calls out after him.

"No, Captain." Marius returns with a sheepish grin.

"Pity, good to see you still breathing, Lepual." Fjord states with a smirk.

"Likewise, Captain," Marius states, falling into a seat beside Orly.

Keg turns at the arrival of the newest figure and does a triple take before walking over and clunking to the ground next to Reani and staring at him.

"You...are making me extremely uncomfortable," Kingsley states with a smirk.

"Yeah...sorry, this is a little weird, honestly." as she turns to Beau, Veth, and Caleb, and mouthed, "Why didn't you warn me?!"

Beau blinks, "Sorry."

Kingsley chuckles, "Right, this is awkward, but I've got time to catch up with whatever that is and the rest of y'alls stories in a moment. Cause I need a fucking drink!"

He crows that with a laugh and a second later, he is mimicked by a surprised Kiri which is then picked up by Luc, who instead starts yelling: "Well, get a fucking drink then!"

He and Kiri begin to chant that back and forth turning it into a bit of a song, which Orly chuckles at and begins to play a bit of a jig, eliciting a few smirking laughs from the others, while Kingsley blanches a little bit.

"I feel like I'm a bad influence," Kingsley states as he stands up.

"Oh, we all are." Fjord agrees.

"Most of us." Cad amends with a smile.

Caleb chuckles, gripping Essek's hand a bit tighter as he smiles as well, listening to the chaos begin to pick up around him, as Kiri and Luc begin to dance around them, drawing others to join them as Orly begins to play in earnest, joined by Marius, as he draws a lute from his back. First Beau and Yasha, then Yeza and Veth holding Molly, then Fjord and Jester with their son between them, Marion and the Gentleman, Keg shrugs and begins tapping her foot while Twiggy begins dancing by herself, twirling in a flurry of spinning skirts, leaving Caliana, who is quickly offered a hand by Reani, taking it with a vibrant blush' Kingsley looks about before offering Cad a hand with a smirk, who shakes his head just looking about contently. Kingsley shrugs only for Calliope to vice grip his hand and twirls him away while Nila and her son are the last to stand up and dance, with TJ joining his older sister and her partner. Caleb shoots Essek a questioning look, who smiles and stands, resting his forehead against his silently, before in the moon and fire-light, missed by all but a cloaked green figure at the edge of the revelry their chins tip up towards each other into a soft, gentle kiss.

Caleb is glad to be home.