#this is why I try and get creative with my Tieflings!
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Lethal Woman- Chapter 6 (GN! AFAB! Reader x Astarion) 18+ MDNI
Author note- work has kicked my ass left right and center. I also deleted my draft of this chapter like three separate times until I finally wrote something I loved.
CW- mentions of still birth, mentions of miscarriage, smut, fluff (I think? Any emotional intimacy is fluff to me 💀), mentions of torture, mentions of rape/sexual assault, mentions of physical and emotional abuse, violence. (I think that may be all? Also this all looks not awesome, but I promise it’s a lot more awesome than you think and not Uber grotesque.)
It’s been mostly edited and I definitely have chapter 7 basically done so I’m anticipating being happy with my draft by Sunday. Happy reading! Thank you for everyone who likes my little self indulgent angst fic!!!!
Also- please remember I take creative liberties. A good chunk of the Nightmasks are dead canonically (RIP my guys) but for the purpose of this story, they are alive. Oh and the names are hard so forgive me for the lack of consistent spelling lmao
Chapter 7
“Ugly, wretched little thing.”
Dahlia’s term of endearment sticks to your brain like- well- an illithid parasite. You are sitting with Karlach and Shadowheart, each of you on your fourth glass of whatever alcohol you could find as the Tieflings jovially celebrate around you. You want to feel the same warmth and happiness everyone else does, but you are too busy trying to ignore the fact that Alfira and Astarion have been talking since the beginning of the party- Alfira immediately walking up to him with her stupid, beautiful face. And her stupid kind heart and pretty voice.
You liked her enough to be her friend, but now? You are struggling not to haul her off by her horns and kick her into the river in the stinking Owlbear den.
Get yourself together Rowan, it was never going to happen anyway.
“Soldier, you might want to stop burning a hole through the Bard with your eyes- Astarion can’t tolerate fire remember?,” Karlach jests and you give her a sour look.
You hadn’t really talked to Astarion since earlier in the day when he had come to your aid when Priestess Gut had a firm grip on your mind, then he fought by your side while you freed Halsin. You had split up after that, him going to help Shadowheart and Karlach and you off to support Wyll and Gale’s group. The fight against Dror Ragozlin and his crew of misfits was easy and Lae’zel evidently enjoyed getting to fight next to you for once. You wanted to enjoy the moment with your companions, your victory just in your grasp, but you had been somewhat distracted during the battle because Minthara’s thoughts had been so Gods damn loud.
You appeared to be the only one experiencing this problem- you assumed that she is specifically targeting you for a reason, but you couldn’t figure out why until she showed you a different image than the fight in front of her.
It was you, standing over a drow female in Menzoberranzan. The alley way is dark with her blood dripping into the cobblestone. You could feel Minthara’s rage- you had killed her lover.
You remember that contract now- It was one of the few you had received where it was required that the target be mutilated and you hated every second of it. Minthara was one of the few people who had ever managed to almost catch you, but you had evaded her successfully. The picture changed, she showed you a flash from Shadowheart’s perspective- it’s you and Astarion, talking in hushed voices and close to each other by the fire. The scene is far more intimate than you realized and certainly incriminating. Her voice boomed in your head.
You killed my lover. Now I’m going to kill yours.
A scream pierced the air as Karlach cried out for Shadowheart. You watched in horror as Shadowheart hit the stone wall hard and dropped flat on her face- unmoving. Karlach was at her side within seconds, trying to get her to wake up. Then Karlach pitched forward after a spell hit her. Karlach was screaming in terror at the top of her lungs and rolling around in pain. You stared at the scene for what felt like hours- rigid and mortified- until Minthara caught your attention again.
Minthara showed Astarion- fighting for his life against her as her blade nicked him and cut him superficially. Thankfully he is a lot faster than her, but your feet were moving before your brain had time to process your actions. Your rage is all consuming- every part of your body feels like it’s on fire.
Between the use of Ghost Step and Spider Crawl, you made quick work of sneaking into the battlefield. You waited for an opening- Minthara and Astarion were neck and neck, blow for blow before Minthara managed to break one of his daggers and slam the hilt of her longsword atop of his head.
Astarion stumbled backwards and fell over on his side. You tried to suppress your own nausea as you watched him struggle to get up as Minthara began menacingly moving towards him. The bloodlust in her thoughts- you could taste it on your tongue. Vengeance is in her reach, but you are not the same you when Tessa died. You will be damned if this bitch of a woman was going to torture two of your closest friends and kill the one person who has made your barely beating, locked away heart a little less heavy to carry.
You cast Evard’s Black Tentacles and manipulated them so that one vine grabbed Minthara’s right hand and ripped it away from the left- her long sword fell to the ground. You picked it up as she screamed profanities at you.
You manipulated another to wrap around her throat and it pulled her down on her knees- she faced the bridge with horror on her face as you stalked towards her with your vampiric stare. You watched as she confronted her own mortality with angry tears- her tadpole hurled profanities at you in Elvish, Drow elvish, and Common. You just smiled at her, sweetly, slowly, like you had perfected for years now.
Minthara’s tears were running down her face and she fought against the tentacles as they squeezed tighter around her throat and wrists.
The next words you had spoken in Elvish- “Say hi to your lover for me”- before you cut her head clean off her shoulders with her own weapon.
You hadn’t looked at Astarion after you had killed Minthara- you were actually too afraid to see the way he may look at you. Would he be repulsed by you? Afraid? You didn’t want to know.
So now, instead, you are stuck watching him flirt with the feminine, beautiful tiefling that you want to go and feed to the resurrected harpies (they aren’t resurrected- yet). You know it isn’t her fault- you just never stood a chance.
“Roo, really, he is barely focusing on her,” Shadowheart says with a roll of her eyes, “he keeps looking over here at you anyway.”
“Oh I’m sure he is after I brutally murdered someone in front of him,” you cross your arms, your tone laced in venom, “yeah that’s a real attractive quality to have- I am capable of brutal MURDER.”
Shadowheart goes to protest, but Karlach beats her to it.
“I don’t know Soldier, he looked pretty dazzled to me.”
You bust up laughing, choking on some of your wine.
“Dazzled, you say?”
“Razzle DAZZLED!” Karlach offers big explosive hands with her statement, “and I mean- he’s into blood so it’s not like you beheading something is all that damning. Maybe he’s really into it.”.
You choke on your wine again, this time it comes out of your nose. You are both dying laughing now, evidently the alcohol had gotten to your heads. It wasn’t because you were making fun of him- it was just the whole idea itself was so ridiculous and the fact that you can nonchalantly talk about beheading a person as an endearing prospect with these two individuals is so bizarre. Shadowheart was laughing despite herself.
Eventually the three of you make your way to the firepit and join Halsin and Gale while they smoke something out of Halsin’s pipe. You ask to try it and it burns your throat as you cough harshly. Halsin laughs hardily and says you’ve passed initiation. Shit, you don’t even remember walking over to the campfire anymore.
Another hour or so passes, Astarion is out of sight and the high has worn off. You feel pleased to see Alfira standing and talking to her friend dejectedly. Maybe he rejected her? You might be a terrible person, but you feel like you already knew that.
You feel overwhelmed all of a sudden by the proximity and warmth of everyone around the fire. You wait for the right moment to remove yourself from the situation- desperately needing a moment of peace and quiet.
If anyone notices you get up, they don’t say anything. You quickly steal another bottle of wine from beside Gale and Halsin and sneak off into the woods.
You crack open the bottle and slowly sip on it as you meander through the woods, finding the secret path to the beach that you have come to adore so much. You had been eyeballing one specific cliff edge ever since you and Astarion had found this place. It wasn’t a massive cliff, but the pool at the bottom of it is deep enough for you to jump into the water without injury. It was something your father used to do with you when you were a child. There was a river that ran outside of your little town and as you moved further into the woods, you could find a waterfall with a deep pool at the bottom. He would teach you flips and different jumps. He had deemed you the world’s finest diver right before he died- cheering you on from the ground below.
You feel warm and melancholy from the memory. Gods you miss your parents.
You drop the bottle of wine and strip down to your underwear and make your way towards the top of the waterfall.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Astarion had finally managed to get Alfira to leave him alone. She is an adorable little creature, but she is not the one on his radar right now. Adorable does not compare to the vision you are- nor the protection you provide.
Astarion had spent the last painstaking hour and a half watching you laugh with quite literally every person in camp who has a crush on you- Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Gale, and even Halsin is fucking smitten now. Gods could you just stop being yourself for five minutes? Astarion needs (and silently wants) your attention to only be on him. It is absolutely crucial to his survival. Speaking of which, where the hells were you?
You were no longer by the fire where he had last seen you before he snuck into Gale’s tent to steal one of the nicer bottles of wine he hoards away from everyone. Astarion had planned on using your shared connection to ask you to meet him at your spot, but now you are nowhere to be found.
Astarion fights the urge to scream out of frustration as he treks through the woods towards the spot on the beach hoping by some miracle that you may already be there.
Astarion stops as your scent hits his nose. He walks around the corner of the rock that you both use as a landmark and freezes when he notices your clothes are sprawled across the ground and a bottle of wine is a third of the way empty. He tries to ignore the ache that is starting to consume his chest. Did you bring someone else here? Shadowheart maybe? You were sitting rather close to her earlier…
Did his three days of stubbornness really just allow you to fall into someone else’s arms?
Astarion’s sinking feeling gets worse when something flashes out of the corner of his eye.
He sneaks around the corner- reminding himself that he is merely just making sure Shadowheart isn’t being… Shadowheart?
Imagine his shock when Astarion doesn’t see Shadowheart at all. Instead, he witnesses you complete a perfect aerial twist before graciously diving into the waves below. He feels completely frozen until you break the water and laugh wildly. Astarion thinks his own heart might start beating from his chest being filled with the sound.
You jump out of the water and race back up to the top of the rock using Spider Crawl- something you had promised to teach him when you found out Cazador had never actually made him privy to the entirety of his capabilities as a spawn.
Astarion grins as he watches you once again go flying into the air, doing a backflip before straightening out, disappearing once again into the water below.
You break the surface and get back onto the shore. You pretend to bow and wave saying “thank you” and “I’ll be here all week.” It’s silly and he’s enjoying every minute of watching you just be yourself.
Astarion knows you aren’t a serious person, not really, but you pretending to bow for an imaginary crowd of adoring fans in a (not) private moment? It feels authentic to your silliness- not just when you and Karlach are joking together.
You are funny, kind, and entirely too cunning- despite what he said three days ago. Your prowess in combat is second to none and you speak a couple different languages- infernal being one of them when he noticed you and Karlach speaking it back and forth like it was also your native tongue.
Elvish is the other one and he only knew that from overhearing what you said to Minthara while he was too busy experiencing shell shock from how quickly you had gotten over to him. Oh and the hit to the head didn’t help either.
Astarion’s thoughts are interrupted when you make eye contact with him and freeze.
You look down at your semi-exposed figure and then up at him.
Astarion flashes you a flirtatious grin and sweeps his eyes up and down your body as you look at him. You are a work of art and the blush that creeps up your neck is an added bonus.
The scars on your body are numerous and varying in degrees of severity. It doesn’t make you any less attractive to him or revolts him by any means; It makes you more real if anything.
“Well hello there, beautiful,” Astarion says melodically as you walk over, “I was hoping I might run into you here.”
“Oh is that so?” you say and put your hands on your hips, teasing him “and to what do I owe the pleasure?”
Astarion smiles widely at you. He holds up the bottle of wine.
“I was hoping I may be able to drink with my most favorite companion at camp,” he looks at you with a sly grin, “but I didn’t think I’d be getting a show. You are delightfully talented in multiple faucets, Darling.”
You smile shyly at him while adorably scrunching your nose.
As you bend down to grab your shirt, you look at your bottle and scratch the back of your head awkwardly.
“I might need to apologize considering I already started without you.”
Not telling me to piss off so that’s an optimistic start.
“Hm,” Astarion hums, cracking open his bottle and taking a drink, “I’ll allow it this once. I suppose I do owe you for my… words the other day.”
“I’ll forgive you,” you say with a mischievous grin, “but for a price.”
“Oh?” Astarion purrs, “and what is your price, my dear.”
“I demand at least half of your spoils in loot.” you say with flourish and over exaggeration- you aren’t even remotely serious.
“No, no, no, “he emphasizes, his finger waving around in the air, “Never. Going. To. Happen.”
“Ugh fine, I guess I’ll just have to accept that you saved my life earlier.”
“I still think you are ahead on that front, but who’s counting really?”
“Definitely not me,” you say and cough a number under your breath.
Astarion playfully glares at you and you giggle in response.
You close the gap between the two of you and gently grab his hand, pulling him to sit down next to you at the edge of the water. Astarion pushes down the giddy feeling that arises- hoping you didn’t notice he flinched when you first went to grab his hand.
You look at Astarion and then your clasped hands- you definitely noticed.
You begin to pull away and he feels his body protest, grabbing your hand back and interlocking them again. Astarion drinks out of his wine, refusing to look at you- this is entirely too intimate. Entirely too much like the lovers he used to hate and envy in Baldur’s Gate, but he can’t bring himself to let go or stop the slight smile that creeps on his lips.
You drink out of your bottle of wine and put your feet in the water. Astarion glances at you and notes the growing grin. He feels a twinge of guilt when he thinks about his plan and how fragile your heart probably is. Astarion pushes it away. Astarion needs his plan to work and so far, it’s working.
The space between the two of you is silent- nothing but the ocean waves roaring in his ears. It’s not uncomfortable, but Astarion doesn’t necessarily know where to start. He wants to begin the process of seducing you, but he’s also unsure of how well that would play out- considering what he’s seen thus far in your memories.
“My dad taught me how to cliff dive,” you say in a melancholic voice, interrupting his thoughts “we would go all the time over the Summer when we lived outside of Daggerford.”
“I was wondering how you had managed to pull off such an impressive feat.”
You guffaw at him and then pout with a glint of humor in your eye. He rolls his eyes at you.
“Fine Darling,” he muses, “I suppose you are rather impressive in all facets.”
Your face is practically burning with his compliment. Astarion has decided he will leave out the bait and let you take it. If you give him any signal or specifically say “I want to have sex” then Astarion will pleasure you and you will see how useful he can be in return for all of your gifts- your blood, your protection.
Your company.
Whatever feelings Astarion felt over the last three days- he never wants to feel again. You have been the one and only person to be kind to him, protect him in 200 years. You treat him with respect and like a friend- not the monster he absolutely is and that you should hate him for being. It had been a very lonely three days without your company-besides, no one else is nearly as fun to converse with. Astarion hears the whisper of a previous conversation in the back of his mind.
“So what does boar taste like?”
“I don’t really have much of a reference, but better than rats and flies,” he scowled.
“Gods, how filthy was that palace?” you murmured under your breath.
Your comment had caught him off guard and he couldn’t help but bark out laughing. You had felt horrible for it- you thought he wouldn’t be able to hear you. In your defense, you had spoken very quietly. Astarion assured you that he found your observation quite peculiar and hilarious.
Astarion likes that you point out the small things and allow him to decide how much of the larger things he wants to tell you. You never push him and Astarion isn’t used to it, but he knows he never wants it to go away- to be treated any other way ever again.
“What else did your father teach you?” Astarion asks softly.
You smile, “My father followed Ilmater. He was a ranger. He dedicated his life to helping others.”
A daughter of Ilmater worshippers turned into a half-dead creature who is forced to kill by an evil vampire, Astarion thinks, I guess even the Gods have a sense of humor.
“What happened to him?”
The pause is pregnant and loud. Astarion notices the single tear that manages to escape your eyes. You clear your throat.
“He’s dead,” you whisper, “a group of Ravagers destroyed our village. They didn’t like that it was a mix of humans and Drows escaping from Lolth- and they especially hated us ‘filthy half breeds’. Made the women and the children watch as they beheaded their fathers and husbands.”
Astarion doesn’t know what to say to something that horrific. He just merely looks at you- waiting for you to continue speaking.
“He just kept telling my mom and I how much he loved us. How he’d always be protecting us,” you manage to choke out, “I can’t even tell you how many times I have prayed to Ilmater for help- only to be reminded how alone I am and that, despite being the God of Compassion, Ilmater doesn’t care.”
Astarion knows that feeling all too intimately, but he wants to hear more.
“How old were you? What happened to you and your mother?”
You are looking at him wearily now, so he gives your hand a squeeze.
“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to Darling.”
“I want to, I’ve just never talked about it before.”
“Well then,” he states in a flattered tone, “I’m honored to potentially be the first and only keeper of your deep, dark secrets.”
You laugh breathily while you roll your eyes at him. The smile on your face is replaced by an unreadable expression. You take a deep breath before you turn your gaze back to the ocean.
“I was 5. They sold us to a mine outside of Westgate. It was run by a group of fanatics that I can’t even remember the name of anymore,” you shake your head in disgust, “all I knew was that they were terrible people. They threatened us children to get our mothers to do anything they wanted. One of them raped my mother and ‘blessed’ her with a child.”
Astarion squeezes your hand as he feels you tense. You look at him with your teary, angry eyes and the intensity of your emotions- your grief- are written into every crack and crevice of your face. Astarion notes that you look uncomfortable, but he gives you a soft smile, encouraging you to continue. You take a big swig of your wine- he shortly follows.
“I don’t know what happened, but the baby… didn’t make it and mom developed a blood illness. It was the week before she had planned on breaking us out. I didn’t know she was dying- she told me she was going to be okay. I should have known- She gave me everything for the escape and had explained the plan to me so many times in that week she was dying that I can still recite it to this day.”
You chuckle to yourself before pulling your knees up to your chest.
“I asked them if I could have a funeral for her. They took me outside and made me watch while the pigs ate her. They told me that’s the only funeral a Drow deserves.”
“What a bunch of racist assholes,” he states.
“Oh, they were only the biggest.”
“You escaped a prison by yourself then or?”
“I did. I was 9 years old and probably one of the only people who has ever escaped that mine. I haven’t seen anyone from my village since. I went back to Daggerford one time and it was still decimated- no one ever came back to rebuild it.”
You both sit in the heavy silence. Your thumb begins to absentmindedly rub circles along his thumb- the gesture is simple, but it’s probably the softest touch he’s felt in the last 200 years that was not filled with the anticipation of sex.
“I’ve only ever had one failed escape,” you sigh harshly, “I was going to run away with Tessa because I didn’t want to go through the ceremony to be a Deathbringer, but Dahlia didn’t care what I wanted. She was too busy trying to win Obarhk’s favor.”
“How did you end up with Dahlia then? If you didn’t want to be a Deathbringer?”
You scoff and he sees the resentment behind your eyes.
“I was 13 and had been living on the streets for a while by then. I had my little tent and I had managed to convince one of the local inns to let me clean the rooms,” you scrunched up your nose, “it was gross, but decent work and they fed me once a day; let me use the baths. Sometimes they even gave me extra food and if it was cold out, they’d let me stay in a room if there was one available. I didn’t have to steal food anymore which was nice. I was actually very happy. I was saving my money so I could travel to the Underdark and hire a sword to go with me- to my grandparents- like my mom had told me to do.
“Then one day, a few of the other local boys, also urchins, had watched as I was given a decent amount of gold and a burlap sack of food. They followed me to my tent. I had offered to share and to give them some gold to help, but they didn’t want just some of it- they wanted all of it and all of me too. I thought I was going to die- the fight was brutal and they were so much bigger than I was, but I wasn’t as easy to take down as they had thought.
“Right as they had slammed my head into the pavement, right when I thought it was over- an Ilmater Priestess had appeared out of no where. She had killed them all. She came up to me, was kind to me, promised she would protect me, give me a home, teach me how to be stronger than anything else in the dark while she helps me travel to the Underdark. I was thrilled. I thought Ilmater had finally heard all my prayers. Then she took me outside of the city- I thought we were maybe going to a temple. I was so naive and stupid.”
Your voice breaks and you struggle to compose yourself- taking a shaking breath.
“She changed- the kind Ilmater priestess I had just been following to safety ended up being the Queen of Venom and a Sharran priestess nonetheless,” you spit out with disgust, “Dahlia stripped me of my clothes- she beat me, cut into my skin, threw me around. Dahlia kept telling me how ugly, wretched, small, and weak I was for hours- how she would be the only person to ever love me from now on. Then she chained me down to the floor, unmoving for I don’t even know how long in the dark. I just know when she finally came back, I was on the brink of death. She starved me and refused to give me water until I stopped asking her to leave. I stopped, but then I learnt how much worse it could be. I also began to accept that I would probably never be free again.”
“Are you free now?”
“Barely. A bit over a year ago I was assigned to the Faceless himself.”
“What changed?”
“I won the Deathbringer Tournament and Lady Thistle Thalaver, the fucking consort of all people, said that she wanted me to be assigned as her personal Deathbringer. Thistle made the point that we are close in age and it would make her happy to have someone she can talk to and protect her. News flash- I was more horrified by that than Dahlia. How the fuck does someone who is a literal husk of a person become the prize comfort pet of the Consort that is the reason you were even kidnapped to begin with,” you say, throwing your hands up in frustration, “Dahlia hated her. She was envious of her already and boy, when Thistle asked for me? I thought Dahlia might kill me and Thistle right there if Obarhk hadn’t stepped in.”
“She sounds like a sore loser.”
“ Oh she is, this grudge has lasted a little over a century or three supposedly. I can’t ever seem to get the exact date right, but Dahlia had allowed Obarhk to change her and became one of his Nightmasters because she had hoped to be his Queen and consort,” you shake your head, “it was childish- supposedly. Obarhk was going to go through with it initially, but then Thistle’s father had extensive debts to the guild and offered his only daughter as payment.”
“What a shitty father.”
“Oh the shittiest,” you agree pointedly.
“If she wanted you to help her gain his favor, why did she hide you away?”
“There are rules within the Guild for how recruits are to be treated. Obarhk plays with his cards very close to his chest and he has an absurd amount of political pull. He doesn’t want word getting out that the Nightmasks beat their assassin’s and thieves, but not their Deathbringers- it’s bad for recruitment. Guess they used to do that and damn near went extinct, not everyone is into becoming half-vampire” you shrug, “Dahlia had ‘presented’ me to gain Obarhk’s favor- not his consort’s. She lied and said I sought her out days ago, begging to get a chance to become a Deathbringer. When I was asked if it was true, I said yes, the alternative was whatever hell awaited me later. At least if I didn’t survive the ceremony, I would be laid to rest.
“Except Thistle won. Obarhk may not be particularly loving towards Thistle, but he won’t deny her what she wants if it’s reasonable. I was still under Dahlia, but now if I disappeared for days on end or came back beaten, it was noticed. A year ago, Lucia and Ghost found me bleeding out in a street with Dahlia over me- it was the first time she had done serious harm to me since the ceremony and the first time she was caught,” he watches you smile despite yourself, “Thistle wanted her to be tortured for what she had done- for creating the infamous ‘Hollow Deathbringer’ as I was called when I first started, but Obarhk doesn’t interfere with religious affairs and Dahlia claimed it was for her Sharran worship. So the solution was that I would report directly to him, Phultan, Lucia, and Lady Thalaver only. If Dahlia attempts to hurt me again, I am allowed to end her life and if I attempt to attack Dahlia, she is allowed to end my life. She isn’t allowed to send her assassin’s after me either or there will be consequences. That’s the same day I found out Dahlia had been lying to me- she is Obarhk’s spawn, not a Master Vampire. She never would have been able to get away with half of her threats if I had known, but I’m sure that’s partly why she isolated me from the Guild until I was old enough and skilled enough to compete.
“We’ve been in a very strange stalemate over the last year. Unable to find each other, but I don’t even know if I could kill her anyway. At least, not by myself.”
It was a lot to take in at one time. Your entire world is so heavily influenced by vampiric beings- no wonder you were so nonchalant about him being a spawn and him feeding from you.
Astarion will admit though, he isn’t necessarily thrilled to find out another sociopathic vampire might be hunting them- specifically you.
“Darling, if Dahlia ever darkens your door step ever again,” he leans toward you and speaks his next words with conviction, “I’ll rip her throat out myself.”
You smile at him and squeeze his hand.
“ Thank you Star, but you don’t need to do that. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t listen to hypocrites- Miss ‘I’m going to put Cazador’s head on a pike and we can parade it around the city’”
You gasp, “how dare you! I felt like that would be a fun leisure activity.”
“Oh believe me, it will be very fun,” he says with a malicious grin,” but someone needs to keep you humble, my dear.”
“Oh okay,” you roll your eyes, “because I’m the one who needs humbling here. Thank you for your service kind sir, I will never be able to repay you.”
He can tell that you are done with the previous conversation- he’ll have to thank you for sharing later and ask follow up questions. Astarion has a plan to execute.
“Well of course,” he lifts your clasped hands and kisses the back of yours, “ I live to be a hero for the common folk.”
“You’re lucky you’re a beautiful bastard.”
“Why thank you, my Dear. I am rather beautiful, aren’t I?”
You turn, facing him now and you move closer- giving him a light shove. One of your eyebrows is lifted in amusement- a lopsided grin on your face. This is most definitely the moment he has been waiting for.
He leans in, your faces near inches apart and he savors how your heart begins to race.
“I must admit, I was lying to you before,” he muses, “I maybe would like to do a little more than just drink wine with you tonight.”
“Y-you do?”
Astarion smiles at the way your breath hitches.
“Well of course, I believe you may be one of the most bewitching individuals I have ever had the pleasure of meeting,” he says while gently brushing your hair behind your ears, “but only if that would be okay with you.”
You look at him- there is lust in your eyes and you worry your bottom lip with your teeth. One of your canines graze your lip and a bit of your blood begins to paint your lips- Astarion fights the urge to smash his lips to yours. You search his face for deception.
“I want to. Very badly,” you pause, “but I need to be open with you. I’ve only ever been with one man before and it wasn’t my choice. That was over 10 years ago. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to go completely through with it or give you some wildly fun time… it would probably be vanilla at best even if I can get through it…”
You trail off and look at the ground, gently pushing his hand away from your face. Astarion frowns.
“If you want someone who you can actually have fun with, it might be better to go find Alfira again,” you whisper woefully, “I would absolutely understand. No harm, no foul.”
Astarion’s heart breaks for you. He gently guides your eyes back to his. You look sad and dejected -like you are ready for him to get up and walk away. You are expecting him to confirm what Dahlia has always told you- that you are an ugly, wretched, little thing. Unloveable at best and absolutely unforgivably intolerable at your worst. Astarion has slept with plenty of virgins before- he knows how to say all the right honeyed words to get them to bed, but this is entirely different. This is you and your first, consensual time with a man if you choose. If you don’t, then he won’t press the matter, but leave his door wide open. Astarion is not Cazador or Dahlia- he is not going to force you.
“I don’t care about any of that Darling,” Astarion assures you quietly, “I want you, not Alfira. We only have to go as far as you are comfortable with- if you want to.”
Your eyes are wide and searching for any hint of insincerity.
“We could even try multiple times if needed,” he says jokingly, but he knows that you can tell he’s serious.
You beam at him and your posture straightens up- a new found confidence in your eyes.
“Okay,” you finally say, “I trust you. I want to try.”
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
You would be lying if you weren’t feeling slightly anxious. The last person you had been with was Tessa and she’d been in the ground a little over 8 years now. The two of you had made a lot of groundwork in your last year together before she died. You had attempted to be with others before, but it never felt right so you could never go through with it.
This feels right. You just aren’t sure what your reaction will be, but you want him and Astarion wants you. You trust that he won’t hurt you.
Astarion pulls you up off of the sandy floor and gives you a smile, “I promise you, you do not want to try this in sand. I happen to know a very nice spot, but we are going to have to make a brief stop first.”
You smile enthusiastically and allow him to take your hand in his as he leads you back to camp.
The walk is a blur, you barely notice that Astarion had grabbed a blanket, taken you quite far from camp, and without warning, Astarion pulls you in for a breathtaking kiss.
You have to fight the urge to collapse completely into him, your arms snaking around his neck as you kiss him back. The kiss is slow, melodic and soft. Astarion’s strong arms hold you close to his chest as he picks you up before laying you down on the blanket.
You help him discard your clothes and your wet under garments. Astarion quickly discards his shirt and pants before he returns to kissing you sweetly, softly. You let your hands glide up his torso to his shoulders and let your hands fan out as you try to memorize every inch of his body. He groans with approval at the touch and when you go to touch his back- you find if you go a little too far over where there is raised skin, he tenses up.
You stop and look up at him- he doesn’t seem like he is all there.
“Star, are you okay? Are you sure you want this?”
Whatever trance he is in, he seems to snap out of and he kisses you sweetly before placing his forehead against yours.
“I assure you that I want this, that area is just… it has some sensitive spots.”
“Okay,” you whisper, “I’ll be mindful of that and try to avoid them. Is it mostly in the middle of your back?”
Astarion stares down at you and for a moment, you think he might start crying. Astarion’s face looks so raw and appreciative in that moment- as if you are the first and only person to ever take the time to listen. Maybe you are. Maybe this is just as much of a fear of his as it is for you.
“It is,” he says huskily,” I- thank you.”
You beam up at him and gently cup the left side of his face with your hand. He leans into the touch and you stroke his cheek bone with his thumb.
“Of course Astarion, I want you to feel safe too.”
Astarion kisses you with a neediness that wasn’t there before. The kisses are still soft and innocent, but a bit more urgent as his hands begin to slowly roam your body. Everywhere he touches leaves you feeling like you are on fire and you find that you never want it to stop. You are intoxicated and so wrapped up in his cologne, his lips- everything. Him.
Astarion’s lips leave yours and you breathlessly look at him. He smiles down at you and slowly moves his hands up to your breasts.
“May I?”
You shyly nod in approval. Astarion slowly begins to pinch and tease your sensitive buds with his fingers- you arch your back and cover your mouth as you whimper needily at the touch. It’s embarrassing how touch starved you are. Astarion pulls your hand away from your mouth and he stares at you through hooded eyes.
“None of that, my Dear,” he commands, “I want to hear every little sound you make.”
You blush and then are quickly squirming underneath him again as he gently takes one of your nipples between his mouth, sucking, licking, and teasing it while he rolls the other between his thumb and forefinger.
You are a complete mosning mess underneath him by the time Astarion’s fingers move from your breast to your throbbing clit- earning a loud, despairing whimper from you. You need so much more- you can feel your own slick coating the inside of your thighs, weeping in anticipation.
“My, you are a very needy lover,” he chastises you as he slides a finger in,” Gods you are so wet for me already. If I had known you wanted me this badly, I would have said something a long time ago.”
“Astarion-“ you gasp as he enters another digit inside you, causing you to arch your back keening as he teases your G-spot. His other finger continues to play with your now very swollen clit and with every moan you make, he praises you. The praise alone is enough to send you over the edge.
“You are being such a good girl for me,” as he enters another finger inside.
His mouth hovers over your clit, “I’m absolutely certain the Gods sent you to ruin me.”
“You taste like the heavens,” after his tongue has been flicking inside of you in tandem with his fingers.
You come undone underneath him- your hands have made purchase in his hair, and struggle to be as gentle as possible. He groans as you gently tug him up to your mouth, kissing him, tasting yourself on his swollen lips.
“Do you want to continue Darling?” Astarion whispers as he kisses up your neck, along your jaw, and slowly nips at your earlobe.
You need him inside you and you want him to be as close to you as possible. It’s like a Dam had broken open inside you and you never want it to stop flooding.
“Fuck- Astarion,” you pant, “please continue.”
Astarion kicks of his undergarments and dips his fingers between your folds and coats his cock with your orgasm. You are speechless as you watch him slowly stroke himself, looking at you.
Astarion puts himself in between your legs and you feel him tease your entrance.
“Before I start,” he says, “you need to tell me if it’s too much and if we need to stop. You will not offend me nor hurt my feelings. We can try again another time if you want.”
“The same goes to you.”
There was that look again. Astarion grabs your bottom lip between his teeth, the neediness has certainly grown since the last statement.
You feel him begin to guide himself inside you, slowly moving until he’s bottoming out- curse words and your name leaving his lips like a prayer. You feel the tears prick your eyes at the pinching and pressure as you adjust to his size. He slowly rocks himself in and out, barely making any movement, but enough to stimulate you more.
“Are you okay?” He says with alarm, wiping your tears.
“Yes- I promise,” you say between panting whimpers, you press your ankles into his lower back to keep him there. It’s beginning to feel better and you open up through the tadpole to show him you mean it. The thoughts were probably far hornier than you meant to show him and he smirks at you.
“Cheeky pup.”
Astarion begins to make his thrusts longer as your moans became louder and more euphoric sounding. You kiss him with fervor as he pumps in and out of you, keeping a slow pace.
“You can speed up now,” you whisper between kisses, “you feel really fucking good inside of me Star.”
Astarion moans against your mouth, the kiss becoming sloppy as he teases your bottom lip between his, pulling slightly. You feel his hips begin to snap slightly harder against yours and you cry out as he begins to hit that perfect spot faster and slightly harder.
“You are so beautiful,” he says while grazing the sensitive skin on your neck, “and you feel so fucking good around my cock.
“I’m not sure I’ll be able to stand any of our other companions looking at you sideways ever again.”
“Then give them a reason not to.”
That seemed to be enough for Astarion as he immediately goes to work leaving hickeys along your neck, your shoulders. You will have to ask him how he’s able to do it so gently.
Astarion’s thrusts inside you are getting sloppier and you have your hands dug in the earth as he slightly lifts you off the ground to get more leverage. You moan his name in between curse words and whimpers as another powerful orgasm rips through your body. You feel him stutter as you tighten around him and finish inside of you. Astarion’s pace moves to a slow rhythm before coming to a halt.
Vampire and half-vampire perks- the whole kid thing? Basically not even remotely possible.
Astarion lays gently on top of you, kissing your neck lazily.
“How was that, Darling?” Astarion asks as he looks into your eyes with concern and worry.
You gently grab his face with your hands and leave a chaste kiss on his lips.
“It was absolutely perfect,” you say, your brain foggy and swimming in the throes of bliss and your deep fondness of the man above you, “you are absolutely perfect.”
************************************
You had fallen asleep quite some time ago in Astarion’s arms. The concept of what happens after sex (normally) was quite foreign to him. Usually he was dragging people to their death after sex, but now he gets to sit and enjoy you- have you all to himself. After it had all been said and done, you had curled into one another, practically nose to nose and just talked. You caught up with each other about what the other missed over the last three days, picked the next ideal type of book to read, and how disasterous the Crèche is likely going to be considering Shadowheart is insisting on going. Lae’zel is positively miffed about it. You laugh and he asks about Minthara. You tell him about the vision she showed you, but he could tell you were holding something back. You don’t push him- he won’t push you.
You tell him about your mother- a former Lolth sorceress who didn’t align with the Spider Queen’s ideals. She was shunned by her parents when she denounced Lolth and she moved to the surface- meeting your dad. Your mother was practical and pragmatic- calculating and protective. Your father, on the other hand, was like a warm breeze on a perfect sunny day.
Astarion tells you about what little he remembers of his life as a Magistrate and his parents. You both ponder what they could possibly be doing in the world right then- pretending there is a possibility that you could find them together when this was all over- even just so he can know.
Astarion’s head is swimming with confusion. It was all very different than when Astarion had gone out hunting for Cazador.
You and him had spent at least a two and a half weeks getting to know each other extensively, spent quality time together over mutual hobbies, and you’ve even seemed to meld together as a fighting duo. You are friends- Astarion expected it to be maybe slightly different, more enjoyable than usual.
Astarion was quickly proven wrong.
This was eons different. Despite the feelings of it being tainted to some degree due to his past, it had been jaw dropping, sweet, simple, and, dare he even say it, intimate. Astarion finds that he actually craves more of you this way, but he also still wants you the way you had each other before. The shame and self-loathing are choking him. There is no way you’ll see him as something other than sex now.
Right?
Astarion honestly isn’t sure and that terrifies him. You were so kind to him tonight while you were in his arms. You respected his boundaries; you avoided that part of his body even though he didn’t tell you not to; you wanted him to feel safe with you too. You took the time to talk to him and play with his hair while he spoke about his parents, becoming a bit emotional.
Vanilla is hardly the word to describe what just happened between the two of you- it was wonderful and frightening. Astarion questions if it’s selfish to want more, to abandon his plan all together.
Astarion stares down at your sleeping face as your limbs are tangled with his. He wants to stay, but he wants to run away from you too. Except Astarion needs your protection- that’s what this was all for, wasn’t it?
That’s what compels him to leave soft kisses on your forehead and to hold you a little tighter- it’s why tears fall from Astarion’s cheeks onto the blanket beneath you when he thinks about the day you’ll end up letting him go.
#astarion acunin#baldurs gate 3#astarion#astarion x reader#baldurs gate astarion#astarion x you#bg3 spoilers#astarion romance#astarion x tav#bg3#karlach#astarion x gender neutral reader#astarion x gn!tav#astarion x gn! reader
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WIP Middas
Thank you @skyrim-forever for the tag! I spent most of my creative juices this week on the first chapter of my 3rd era au (shameless plug sorry it just hasn’t gotten any reads yet) but I did get randomly compelled to write some of a post-game Tilia and Lae’zel AU for I’m not sure what reasons. So here’s that! Big BG3 spoilers relating to Lae’zel’s personal quest.
Tagging @thequeenofthewinter @umbracirrus and @throughtrialbyfire
“Who’s the devil child?” he asked in Githyanki. Tilia would pout about that description, but there were no other words for tieflings in our language.
“Her name is Tilia.” I gave my response in Gith’s tongue, too. Upon hearing her own name, Tilia looked up. “She doesn’t speak Githyanki. You will address her in the common tongue or in Draconic.”
He scoffed, but I held his gaze. “Fine.” He scanned Tilia again. “You speak Draconic, istik?”
She broke into her usual sincere smile. Chk. Should have coached her against that. “I do! My name is Tilia of Tragedy.” She shot me a joking side-eye, probably for not having given her full name.
He rolled his eyes and turned around. “Follow.” He repeated it in Githyanki for the other soldiers around us, who complied. I held a hand in front of Tilia’s chest, waiting until everyone was a few steps ahead to whisper to her in Common. She opened her mouth before I did.
“Does he not speak Common?”
“No. All githyanki do.” She looked confused at that. “He intends to test whether or not you truly know the language.”
“Does he know I speak it instinctively?” she asked.
“Likely.” I checked to make sure we were out of sight of the other gith, then grabbed Tilia’s chin to kiss her. She giggled and gently ran a scaled wrist across my forehead, placing her other hand on my chest as if to try to find a heartbeat through the armor.
“Are you nervous at all, Lae’zel?” It was a question she clearly knew the answer to.
“No. I have earned my place in this council,” I responded. Both of her arms were now around my neck, placing her chest close to mine.
“And me?”
I let my hand glide over the scales on her cheeks. “Are half of why the Prince of the Comet is free. Now come. We are falling behind.” I broke out of the embrace. The gap between us and the others was sizable, so my pace had to be quick to try to close it.
Tilia seemed to run out of breath after a few
minutes and eventually resorted to flying to keep up. I noticed a few of the other githyanki shooting her looks, but I wasn’t sure of the emotion behind them. There was likely to be some distrust of her devilish appearance here, but none that she couldn’t counter. Tilia was nothing if not persistent.
When we eventually caught up, I scanned the unit and our surroundings. There were six soldiers, plus the kith’rak, all of whom appeared to be carrying both crossbows and various melee weapons. The meeting hall we were heading towards was visible, but still distant, and the terrain seemed otherwise empty. Tilia tapped me on the shoulder.
“This is a lot of people for an escort, isn’t it?” She sounded nervous.
“The creatures of the Astral Plane often prove to be fearsome foes. We typically travel in large groups.”
She was still anxiously tapping her staff against her hand. “We’re just sure they’re not here for… us?”
“Are you expressing distrust in my people?”
She seemed to consider. “No. I think I’m just nervous.”I tried to think of a way to reassure her that wouldn’t outwardly portray any romantic intent; eventually I settled on gently patting her between the wings. She smiled. “I’ll be good to see Orpheus again,” she said.
“Prince Orpheus,” I corrected.
“Prince Orpheus. Hopefully he’s not still mad at me. He seemed to cool off after we actually took down the brain, though.” I snorted. I was sure Tilia would get the prince to enjoy her company- it was her strongest skill. And any battle alongside her would quickly make him respect her capabilities. I realized it was strange for me to consider those two different things.
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TavTash Tag Game
I was tagged by my beloved bestie @randomfanner to participate in @bearhugsandshrugs and @crystal-overdrive Tavtash game!!
1. Tell us a bit about your Tav!
I have many, but out of them all only 1 is shipped with Gortash, and that is Kieran. Unfortunately I have no pictures of her yet as I haven’t made her in game 🥲
She’s a Zariel Tiefling with a very warm orangey-brown skin tone and a deep scar on her cheek. She’s got pretty horns that she is actually proud of. She has orange-gold eyes. She has long auburn locs. Body type wise she’s built like a brick shithouse and is very androgynous looking (in full armor she’s often mistaken for a man) , but she doesn’t mind this fact.
2. What alignment is your Tav? How does that align or clash with Gortash? Do they agree with him morally?
Kier is Lawful-Neutral good, which leads to a lot of conflict with Gortash. The two often disagree, which does sadden her for multiple reasons. Kieran is usually really easygoing and Gortash is very much not—
3. What God does your Tav follow? Is Gortash's position as Bane's chosen an issue?
Hahahahaha Gortash being Bane’s Chosen is a MASSIVE issue for Kieran because she is a paladin/cleric of Lathander. When she saw him during the cutscene underneath Moonrise girl was genuinely tempted to throw her mace at his skull because “THIS FUCKING MORON BECAME A B A N I T E”
She does make it a personal goal to try and help him renounce Bane and become less of a tyrannical asshat—
4. What did your Tav think of Gortash when they first met? Did they take his offer of an alliance?
Well— the first time they met was actually pregame when they were children. Kieran was the young “apprentice” of the local glassmakers (she was given to them by her parents who did not think they could care for her), and lived not far from Gortash’s family. When she first met him she thought he was a scrawny little dork who was bound to get his ass handed to him in any scraps he got into— so she declared herself his bodyguard and friend. He wasn’t very keen on this big, smiley, weirdo.. but he got used to it. Then one day she disappeared— turns out Raphael impulse buys “useful” children often. So once Gortash was taken to the House of Hope they were reunited and he once again had his protector.. just in a much worse situation. They eventually worked to escape together, but were separated.
When meeting at the coronation she’s… not happy. Like she’s obviously happy to know he’s alive as that was a worry she carried with her for years, but learning he was the Chosen of Bane and trying to take over the world with an Elder Brain? Ya no she very much wishes to BONK him on the head and ask why he thought this was a good idea. She accepts the alliance with a few extra conditions (like having him work to help fix Karlach’s engine because she’s very upset about that) hoping to rekindle their friendship and tell Bane to go fuck himself.
5. How did Gortash and your Tav get together? What do they see in each other?
During the actual story of BG3 the pair have a lot of complex feelings about one another and argue often, but deep down the two could never fully hate one another. They literally survived the Hells together— so lots of tension, lingering glances, and thoughts about what could’ve/should’ve been.
Post Game I think is where the two could finally truly open up to one another. It would take a bit of time, but Kieran would be placed as Gortash’s “handler” while the two work to rebuild the city— and they can fall back into their long ago pattern of working together. Because when not fighting they can work together well, they balance the other out. Very Good Cop/Bad Cop dynamic at times.
As for what they see in one another-
Kieran’s always admired Gortash’s mind. His creativity and ingenuity have always astounded her. As children she often asked questions about his tinkering and encouraged it. She also has (almost) always found his wit funny, even when it got the two of them into trouble.
Gortash on the other hand has (almost) always liked Kieran’s strength, both inside and out Kieran’s never allowed herself to buckle. He admires her perseverance even in times when he would’ve stopped. He also likes that despite his very methodical nature, Kieran’s easygoing and adaptable to almost any situation.
6. What does the future hold for your Tav and Gortash? Are they in a relationship, a one time thing, are they going to rule the sword coast together or kill each other in a tragic showdown?
Realistically? Tragic showdown that would tear Kieran to pieces. Idealistically and because it’s my brainchild? They get together after working together to help rebuild the city (and symbolically their relationship). As for kids I haven’t put a lot of thought into it yet, but they would at least have 2.
Unfortunately I do not have anyone else to tag- but if you wish to participate, please do!!
#bg3#baldur's gate 3#tavtash#tavtashgame#archduke enver gortash#baldur's gate iii#bg3 enver gortash#lord enver gortash#tav talk#gortash x tav#enver gortash#tav: Kieran#kiertash
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I am more than happy to ask you about your BG3 babies!! How about questions one through ten from the ask game for Lilith? <3
Yes!! Thank you!! 😍
Answers are below the cut.
1.) Why did you pick the race you did for your Tav?
Answer: Well, Lilith was my first Tav, so I didn’t go in with a plan on her race but I instantly fell in love with the tieflings and how they looked. There was a swishy tail and pretty horns and I was hooked. But it’s funny I found out it’s pretty common for bisexuals to make tieflings and in the Dungeons and Dragons community so….I felt very called out and seen at the same time 😂
2.) Why did you pick the class you did for your Tav?Answer: Again, with Lilith being my first girlie I wasn’t going in with a plan…I feel like Lilith is basically my self-insert, to be honest, 😂But all I saw was that I could talk to animals and turn into them and I was like YES.
3.) What is your character’s moral alignment?
Answer: Chaotic good…😌she’s very sweet and kind until she witnesses someone harming innocent people, especially her friends, and animals. She would make you wish that she was still showing her sweet naive side then.
4. )How did you choose your Tav’s name, if you gave them a unique one?
Answer: So I chose Lilith because it reminded me of a female devil's name, I figured with Lilith being a mephistopheles tiefling, it kinda fit. Now for her last name…Chrysanth, that’s all thanks to the creative mind of @astarionbae. Lilith loves nature, but what she loves the most about it, which doesn’t include animals, are the flowers. So while I was asking Ky about it she came up with her last name being related to a flower. A chrysanthemum flower. This flower symbolizes friendship, happiness, and well-being, just like what Lilith represents. Ky also came up with Karlach and Lilith’s ship name “lilach.” Which is inspired by the lilac flower which symbolizes happiness and tranquility. Just like Karlach and Lilith’s relationship. ❤️😌
5.) What are your character's strongest and weakest stats(strength, charisma, etc)?
Answer: Dexterity is her highest and Intelligence is her lowest.
6.) What is your Tav’s origin story?
Answer: Lilith and her parents were traveling on the road when they were attacked by a pack of gnolls. Her parents were killed in the attack and she was saved shortly after by a lone druid named Emrys. He then raised her as his own, teaching her the magic and history of the druids. Lilith seemed to be a natural when it came to magic. Flourishing in the gift of nature. But Emrys knew that he was tainted, from what he had done to his grove and did not want to have it affect Lilith, So, when she was old enough he had fled into the darkness, leaving her behind. When Lilith woke and noticed her father gone, she was hurt and confused but most of all worried. Lilith wouldn’t stop until she found him, ensuring he was alright and… to find out why he left. Lilith's travels eventually led her to the city of Baldurs Gate after hearing rumors about a lone Druid who fit his description. Shortly after Lilith was taken by a mindflayer and infected with a tadpole. But because of that, Lilith starts to meet a group of characters that she becomes close to, these people become her new family and as their travels get more and more dangerous trying to find a cure, Lilith will do anything in her power to protect them.
7.) What was the most significant moment in your Tav’s origin story?
Answer: Meeting Karlach. After the crash, Lilith had stumbled into the forest trying to grasp her surroundings, and stumbled upon her. She was the first companion to join her party. Lilith was smitten with her instantly.
8. ) What deity, if any, does your character worship?
Answer: She doesn’t worship any deity.
9.)What is your Tav’s biggest priority or goal?
Answer: At the very beginning of the journey it was to find her father Emrys, but then it was to find a way for Karlach to live her life without worrying about Zariel or going back to Avernus.
10.) If your Tav didn’t become an adventurer, what else would they be doing?
Answer: Lilith would probably build her own little cottage in the middle of the woods and live out the rest of her days with animals.
Tagging Baulder Gates mutuals who might be interested: @astarionbae @reyofluke-ocs
#mimi answers asks#mimi replies#asks answered#answered asks#bg3#baldur's gate 3#fandom: bg3#fandom: baldurs gate 3#bg3 tav#video game ocs#baldur's gate 3 ocs#oc: lilith chrysanth#lilith chrysanth#I Want To Queue You 'Til You See Stars
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LET'S DO IT. Care to share some info about your OC? Or a Raph headcanon?
One of the 2 headcanons i have of Raph is that he has a breeding kink. Like i don't care that he is ALLEGEDLY bad at sex in canon, you cannot tell me that once he got his hands on that sweet sweet crown and conquered all 9 hells he wouldn't be like "damn i gotta make a legacy off my own" and just.... try to get as many people as possible pregnant. Would he raise the children? Probably not, but i do think he would be intent on having like a lineage of tieflings that can all the traced back to him
My other headcanon is that he likes going to the theater, to watch like an opera, a play or a ballet. He just seems to me like someone who would appreciate the arts.
As for my OC's, at this point is so many I'll just give a quick run down of some of them (important to note, they were/are my dnd characters, although i've only been able to play with 2 of them)(also you'll quickly notice i have a thing for tieflings).
Gwendolyn "Gwen" Gray is a tiefling warlock/sorcerer whose mom had made a deal with a devil in the past and resulted in Gwen being born. She was raised by her mom in the middle of the woods and she was always very creative and hyperactive, and she wanted to see the world. At some point she discovers the truth about her dad and she makes a deal with him so that she'll be able to leave her mom (basically like hey dad gimme some powers so i don't die while adventuring and i'll do whatever you want). She has a pseudodragon familiar named Pendragon. When I played with her, Gwen was known for making very questionable decisions and throwing caution to the wind, and also taking/buying stuff she didn't need. I've played with her for like a year and a half until me and the other players quit the campaign due to some issues and if i get the chance, i'll probably play with her again in the future if i'm able to.
Elizabeth Adawolf is a human blood hunter who grew up as the second oldest child of an important duke, but on the day of her wedding with another noble, the church caught on fire and she was the only one who made it out alive (which is why half of her face is covered in burn scars and she doesn't have sight in one eye). The person who saved her was a tiefling blood hunter named Kallista and Elizabeth ended up staying with the blood hunters, and becoming part of the order of the lycan. She and Kallista fell in love and they had plans of leaving one day but were found out and during a confrontation, Elizabeth had to flee while kallista almost died. Elizabeth also discovered that the fire wasn't a random accident and when the campagin begun, she was being hunter down by the same person who killed her family. She is the only character I currently play with so she got even more traumatized during the campaign. She's a leader and the champion of the sun goddess, even thought she didn't ask for either of those, she's very anxious and also she loves swords and beheading an assholes. Also, I have written like 3 fanfics involving her (is it a fanfic if it is your own character?).
Also, Elizabeth's campaign is on hiatus but it's cause the DM decided to do a smaller campagin in the same world but in another part of the continent and in that one I'm playing as Kallista(who is a barbarian).
Galatea von DeWilde is, you guessed it, a tiefling whose parents were nobles who had trouble conceiving so they were told by this witch to do a certain ritual and 9 months later, a tiefling was born (even though her dad is human and her mom is an elf). Even thought her parents loved her, she was ostracized by her grandmother and some other family members but she didn't care much. When she was 5, her parents managed to have another child, this one being a regular half-elf. Galatea loved her sister but it did hurt her that some people seemed to care more about the new baby then her and after hearing her grandma say some hurtful things about her, Galatea starts manifesting some magic and also this shadow guy (who she saw as an imaginary friend) starts talking to her. She kept both of those things to herself. Also, when she began to use magic, a black spot appeared on one of her arms, and the more she uses it, the more is grows and at this point, her whole hand up to her wrist is pitch black. Anyways, she eventually runs away from home when her sister tells her that she overheard their mother and grandmother talking about marrying Galatea to some random guy so she would be far away. I haven't been able to play with this character yet and at this point i doubt I will but oh well.
Nyx Lenoir was a tielfing born on a cold winter's night to human parents. They were a happy little family and she was a sorcerer like her mom. Because the place they lived was very hostile towards tieflings, her paretns tried to keep her hidden but one day they had to go to a nearby town and this man discovered that she had magic by accident. The following day her home gets invaded and she is separated from her parents and taken to this magic school that is really shitty but she makes some friends and a rival. Eventually, she drops out of the school and goes to live on her own, while also trying to figure out what happened to her parents. She is a sorcerer/divination wizard, she likes mapping the stars and because i wrote this character while i had a hyperfixation on bears, she studied bears for a long time. She has a familiar named Griffin, and she's infamous in my dnd group because her background is a 24 page document, out of which 17 pages are just writing (the rest are reference pics). Also, I haven't played with her yet bu the DM promised that he would begin the campagin next year.
And as a bonus, shout out to my first OC, Solana Starfury, who was a high elf necromancer, who came from a warrior family and was kicked out of her home cause she couldn't lift a sword to help herself. First dnd character I ever made and played with, her campagin ended abruptly due to the DM having some IRL problems. I miss her.
Anyways, I skipped physical appearences description because this answer is already way too long so feel free to ask away.
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What's your most favourite class and race to play? Why? Least favourite? Why?
This answer is long so buckle up! Each TMiF member got to answer this!
CptTritium: My favorite is Pathfinder Paladin. I liked Paladins pre-3.5e because I like playing with restrictions, because paladins in pre-3.5e you had to be lawful good and live under the pact of a higher power which is really important considering the historical meaning behind the term. I like the idea of a holy warrior. I'm tempted to say gnome is my favorite race because… Well (group laughter). Honestly though all my favorite races and classes are the ones in the SRD, because I like playing in those constraints.
Least favorite: (thinking) They all have their place, but I don't know, insert College of Creation Bard here? (laughter) For context the first time we played Curse of Strahd, Jade played a Creation Bard and killed Strahd with a bunch of books.
Oh you know my least favorite race? The Ardlings from D&DOne or whatever they're calling it. Just make Aasimar better, don't just give them animal heads. I don't actually have super strong feelings about it though.
RosexKnight: My favorite class is Warlock, even though I'm not playing many in our games because I was trying to avoid doing my whole thing! (laughs) And the only one I WAS playing, died! Hilariously enough my favorite race is tieflings. I just really like them for their diversity in appearance.
Least favorite: My least favorite subclass is the alchemist artificer because it could have been SO MUCH BETTER! And it's not! Compared to the other artificer subclasses. It's a decent enough support class becase you get some bonuses to healing, or when you do damage that's fire, acid, or poison.
Jademod: Favorite: Fighters and Rogues are both good for multiclassing, that's why I like them. One or two levels gives some fun variety and they have a good variety of subclasses if you go three levels. I'd thought wizard was my most played class but both times I've played wizard with this group it was a wizard/fighter because I'm a sucker for melee-based casters! (laughs)
Least favorite: That's… A hard one. Maybe druid? I dunno I think they're cool, and I've played them and I will play them, but it depends. And (sorry Zen but) Ranger? I don't think they're bad I just don't like a lot of the ranger spells as much as other classes' spells. I don't DISlike the class it's just not my favorite class. I have played and will play ranger!
Ry: I gotta say my favorite race has gotta be dragonborn, because I'm playing Dungeons&DRAGONS and there's going to be an effing DRAGON. They're just fun because breath weapons are dope; you can have a direct line of fire or a giant cone. You turn your breath into a public service announcement! Class is where it gets tricky, because there's a lot of really interesting capabilities. Bard is a fantastic class because you can get really creative. But there's something about Barbarians, I've come to find, as a phenomenally fun class to run solo or mix in. No spells or anything, I just get mad and swing my axe or sword and it's that easy. But I am having fun playing warlock; get to use the best cantrip in the world, Toll the Dead! Eldritch blast is great but Toll the Dead has been fantastic.
Least favorite: Monk. It's a good class, but for a class that's just for punching things it's just way too complex. It's just the one I like least. It's the getting going with them, and there's so much to manage.
Bluebrush09: I have mostly rogues, fighters, and wizards, and mostly humans for played characters. But I don't branch out much 'cause I don't really look at builds to play. Just go with whatever is character-fitting since most of mine are pre-existing.
ZenAquaria: My favorite class is the Cleric! Partially because that's the class I started with in the first CoS run with Spooks, my little grave cleric! I am a support player by nature, and the cleric has a lot to offer in that regard. Depending on your domain, you can be a frontliner, a back-of-the-pack support, a healer, crowd control; there's a lot of options. And I really enjoy multiclassing the cleric! Because they really can! (laughter) When it comes to race I don't really have a favorite either, that I've played? Which means I don't have a least fave either! But if you were to look at my collection of characters I've not yet run, that answer would lie with the drow, just by virtue of most numerous. I do really love the owlin though, because heyo, Spooks!
Least favorite: As far as least favorite class goes, Iiiii… have not played the same subclass twice so that's really hard for me to pick because I haven't found one I just, did not like. I will say I do not appreciate how they have shorted the Beastmaster Ranger in costing them their action to command their pet, unless you have the Primal Spirit companion from Tasha's.
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Hello again! I’m back but with a writing prompt! Doesn’t have to be filled or anything, just wanted to share it cause you’re one of my favorite writers :D A young (I don’t mean child like young adult) royal gets kidnapped by a criminal for ransom, but it turns out that the royal family was really toxic and abusive to the person so now this criminal has to deal with the repercussions of committing treason and crimes against the crown while having to take this little prince/princess/heir with them. Could be a whumpee/slightly better whumper situation or could be a whumpee/caretaker or even a whumpee/a bit healed other whumpee. Hope you enjoy!
So I took a little creative liberty and made a small change! Prince Thei is still kidnapped for ransom, but Alistair wasn’t specifically targeting royalty!
Notes: Eldryth is a 5 headed dragon, but her green and black heads share a consciousness and her blue and white heads share a separate one. Meaning she has 3 separate consciousnesses! Also 10,000 gold is equivalent to $1,000,000 USD!
CWs: Draconic Sibling whumper(s), Vampiric Tiefling whumpee, Changling carewhumper, Sibling abuse, Downplaying abuse, Kidnapping, Improper wound care, Whumpee seeking out carewhumper
~~~~~~~~~
Thei harshly pulled their hood over their head as they stormed out of the castle.
“Oh come on you big baby! You know I’m just messing with you!” Eldryth’s primary head called out
“Messing with them typically doesn’t involve getting claws on them.” Her green and black heads pointed out, causing her to roll her eyes. “Oh please, they need to get over themself.” she huffed.
“Ma’am, should we send someone after them?” A guard asked.
“No, if they want alone time let them have it.” She says at the same time as her blue and white heads, resulting in a slight echo effect.
~~
Thei sniffled as they try to wipe tears away so they don’t fall into the fresh claw wound on their face.
Their face burned and they kept their eyes looking at the ground. “That sanctimonious bitch and her vacuous heads.” They muttered.
They kicked a rock “Just once I’d like to take reprisal on her without getting in trouble.” They huffed
They continued to rant to themself, unaware that there was someone just around the corner that was listening.
“I- Just- AUGH–UMPF-” Their ranting was cut off by a paw slapping over their mouth as they’re grabbed and dragged off into the night.
They attempted to struggle but it didn’t take long for something to wrap around their tail and legs, a blind fold thrown over their eyes before being gagged, and then their wrists being grabbed to be tied behind their back.
Despite being restrained they still continued to squirm and try to yell into the gag, regardless of their attempts they were still carried off.
~~
Alistair was breathing heavily by the time he got back to his cabin, while the person he caught seemed to have tired out a while ago, carrying them and keeping up this form was exhausting.
He locked the door behind him and hulled the person over to a chair he had already prepared. He drops them into it, unwrapping his tail from around their legs and tail so he could tie them to the chair first.
Once he had them secured to the chair he finally drops the tabaxi disguise. “Alright. Let's see who you are. Hopefully you have someone who’s willing to pay good money for you.” He mutters the last sentence as he grabs their hood and yanks it back.
He hums as he looks over their green hair and pink skin. “Well, I can’t see your eyes but you’re pretty cute.” He grabs their chin so he could move their head to get a better look at them. One of their cheeks had a pretty deep cut in it. “Even if I can’t use you for ransom I’m sure I could sell-”
His eyes landed on the scale choker with 5 colorful gems that was clasped around the person’s neck. “Fuuuccckk.” He whispered as he felt his heart drop.
He just kidnapped Prince Thei. He just kidnapped one of the children of Tiamat. Oh he was so screwed.
Then he paused. Why was the prince walking around without any guards? Why was he hurt?
He sighs and goes to get some rubbing alcohol, cotton balls, and a bandage. When he returned, he kneeled down in front of the prince. “I’m going to take your gag off so I can clean your wound. If you yell I’ll shove it down your throat.” He threatened before taking the gag off.
To his surprise, the prince remained quiet.
He poured rubbing alcohol on a cotton ball before pressing it against the wound, resulting in a hiss from them as it stung their wound.
~~~~
Despite the stinging, Thei didn’t pull try to pull away. Other than the occasional hiss from the stinging, they remained quiet.
“What happened?” The kidnapper asked as he put a bandage on the wound.
“Why do you want to know?”
“It’s not everyday there’s an injured prince wandering around without guards.”
They hesitated for a moment as their ears pin back. “My sisters happened. It’s not that serious.”
“It’s not? Is it a common occurrence?” He asked, sounding confused.
“... Yes.”
There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment.
“If I take off your blindfold, you won't have me executed when you’re brought back home. Will you?” He asked.
Thei snorts “As if I have that ability.”
“Just answer the question.”
“No. I won’t have you executed. If you’re going to use me for ransom, I’d recommend sending it straight to Tiamat. She’s the only one likely to pay it.”
The kidnapper was quiet for a moment as he took the blindfold off. “The name is Alistair.” He introduces himself.
They squint their eyes and blink a few times to adjust to the light. Upon seeing the changling in front of them, they looked confused and then looked around. “Where’s your furry partner in crime?”
“I don’t have a partner in crime. That was me.” Alistair answered as he turned his hands into fluffy orange paws.
Thei looked at him in astonishment. “You can turn into animal folk? I thought humanoid changlings couldn’t do that.”
He shrugs and poofs his arms back to normal. “Well, like you, I’m an oddball.”
“How peculiar.” They muttered.
“As for the ransom. If I attempted to do that, do you have any idea what the size of the bounty that would be put on my head would be?” He rhetorically asked. “Tomorrow I’ll drop you off somewhere outside of the city and you can walk back home.”
“I imagine it’d be around ten thousand gold.” They answered, resulting in a choked sound from Alistair.
They paused for a moment. “What if I don’t want to go back?” They asked, raising an eyebrow.
“What?” Confusion was plastered across his face. “You’d rather stay with your kidnapper than go back home?”
They gave a half shrug as it was difficult to move their arms. “I mean, this is the most thrill I’ve had in a while! You aren’t beating me, you aren’t shouting at me, or claiming how much better you are than me. You actually tended to my wound.” They listed off as they managed to adjust their hands enough to be touching the rope around their wrists.
“This is significantly better than that stuffy old castle.” They added on right before acid from their hands caused the rope around their wrists to snap. “That’s a little better.” They muttered.
He looked at them, completely bewildered before shaking his head. “No. Absolutely not. I’m not risking my head just because Prince Thei doesn’t want to go home.”
He picks up the leftover supplies that he used to tend to their wound. “I hope you’re comfortable because I’m not untying you, so you’re going to be sleeping in that chair..” He says before leaving the room to put supplies away before retiring to bed.
“Wha- No dinner?!” Thei called out. Upon getting no response they pouted. “What an awful way to treat a captive.”
~~~~
Alistair woke up before the sun rose. He got dressed and left his room as he mentally prepared himself to carry Prince Thei back to the city.
What he wasn’t prepared for was finding the chair that he had tied them to empty with the robes on the floor with ends that had been eaten away by acid.
Panic started to build until he spotted the familiar pinks and greens of the prince sleeping on his couch. He breathed a sigh of relief before walking over to them.
Despite the situation they looked like they were sleeping mostly peacefully. Their face was almost entirely relaxed with the exception of their eyebrows being slightly furrowed.
“Alright escape artist. Get up.” He says as he knees them in the stomach.
They wake up with a yelp followed by wheezing as the air is forced out of their lungs as they try to roll onto their back. “You could’ve- fuck- just shaken me awake!” They managed to get out between wheezes and gasps.
“And you could’ve stayed in the chair.” He snipped before grabbing one of their arms and forcing them up “Now come on.”
Alistair just wanted to get this done and over with to get the prince out of his hair and to get the risk of such a high bounty off of his back.
Little did he know that the prince would continue to seek him out, just for a bit of thrill and to get away from their family.
~~~~~~~~
General: @emmettnet @thebluejaysworld
#I ran out of steam at the end hence the rough summary thing dfgkjhjkhdfkjsgf#owe answers#ihaverottinglungz#prompted writing tag#whump#whump tag#reversed royalty au#prince thei tag#alistair tag#eldryth tag#familial whump#sibling abuse#sibling whumper#tiefling whumpee#changling carewhumper#carewhumper#downplaying abuse#kidnapping#improper wound care#ask to tag
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yay asks!
3. Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic
16: How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Share one of them?
55. Of the characters you write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain ones?
65: tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project
Fic Writer Asks
3. Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic
Already answered here, but I'll try to do a better job with it now, haha.
I tend to start with a scene or an image, or maybe a snippet of dialogue, which sets off the steadily-fractaling out of "so what if" and "how do they" and, of course, the ever-present "why." I do a lot of staring into space and daydreaming about it (free time is at a premium, but I'm one hell of a multitasker), and listening to songs/making playlists about it, but most of the magic comes when I actually sit down to write. I always quote Flannery O'Connor on this: "I write to discover what I know." Sometimes I don't get my answers until I'm actively working at the page. But it's usually got plenty of daydreaming to back it up.
16: How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Share one of them?
The modern AU is firmly on the backburner (along with The Peggening, unfortunately) but it's all in favor of exploring the spaces between on Shaxibis' game canon timeline (and what in her backstory led her there, and made her click with one specific wizard so well). Right now I'm sitting on something that gets into the first night at camp, alternating POV, with the two of them getting a feel for each other and reflecting on the very first impressions, but also drawing in dynamics (Shax's in particular) with the rest of the party/camp.
55. Of the characters you write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain ones?
I'm still early stages in this fandom, so I default to finding Shaxibis' voice, first and foremost. However, in the brief bits of modern AU I've done, I have LOVED writing Karlach. I love her. So much. I'm going to keep loving her, probably.
Before I fell into the BG3 hole, I did a lot of writing in the Arcana fandom, and I always got compliments on how I wrote my primary favorite of the love interests, Julian. Of course my own OC was my favorite to write, but it was great to hear from multiple people that they loved how I characterized a guy who's probably one of the most mischaracterized in the whole fandom. Point of pride, that.
65: tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project
HOO BOY. Already some of the details in Shaxibis' backstory are getting fleshed out (and slightly tweaked, at least as her bio currently stands) to tie in to the game lore, particularly her extremely strong feelings about the tiefling camp in the Grove. There's some real good meat to chew on with that right there.
But also I'm looking forward to fleshing out her dynamic with Gale so that The Peggening makes more sense and has more impact. We're playing the long game now.
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Something I think about a lot in fantasy worlds with lots of different exotic races,(mostly DnD, because I don’t think I’ve ever seen a fantasy franchise any near as many races as DnD) is how their cultures would handle jewelry, make up, or just general self-decoration.
Like, we humans have come up with all kinds of ways to pretty ourselves up, tattoos, hair dyes, piercings, rings, etc. But all of that stuff is based on our anatomy, some of it isn’t going to work for some races. And besides, why would other races/cultures use beautification techniques solely pioneered by humans? Surely they have their own based on their own cultures and bodies! Think of the possibilities!
Like, maybe Tieflings put piercings in the fleshy bits of their tails, to glam them up with jewelry! Or maybe they drill little holes in their horns, and string ribbons or small chains through them!
Or what about the Kenku! They’ve got nice shiny beaks and talons, what if they painted little designs on them, kind of like henna? Plus, they’ve got lots of feathers, maybe they could dye them? Or if they were feeling particularly adventurous, they dye their feathers to resemble other birds, like Bluejays, or Peacocks!
Orcs are pretty humanish for the most part, but the big thing that sets them apart, (aside from, ya know, being green,) is their tusks. I feel like the Orcs would be really into decorating their tusks. Maybe they’d put little caps made of precious metal on them, or paint them in Clan colors. Heck, maybe they’d even carve little symbols or runes into them. It would probably hurt like the dickens, but somehow I can’t imagine that stopping them. Lol
Speaking of carving, Tortles! I bet they carve all kinds of stuff into their shells! Or at the very least paint them! They’ve got a big ol’ canvas right on their backs, why not use them?
Tabaxi are covered in fur, making things like tattoos pretty difficult. After all, the point of a tattoo is to pigment your skin, and unless you shave it off, fur kinda makes that tricky. So what if they tattooed their paw pads? It’s basically the only exposed skin they have, except maybe the inside of their ears, which might be a bit too sensitive to tattoo. Also, I like the idea of Tabaxi painting their claws. They’re retractable, so you can’t see them most of the time, but on the occasion that a Tabaxi does decide to relieve someone of their face, at least they’ll be doing it in style!
Ever since the Rabbitfolk/Harengon (their the same thing, don’t worry about it,) were announced I’ve been thinking about bunnies with earrings. I mean, they’ve got so much ear real estate! Why not use it? Also, I imagine that those big flippy flops get in the way when you’re moving a lot, so I bet Rabbitfolk/Harengon use something like a hair tie, or something to their ears from flying around all over the place.
Centaurs! A cross between a horse and human! You know what that means? Caparisons baby! (For the record, Caparisons are those big fancy cloths knights used put on their horses. If you’ve seen a horse wearing something like a dress or a big skirt, that’s a Caparison. At least, according to my limited horse knowledge. Lol) It’s always struck me as a little strange then Centaurs were okay running around naked from the waste down, so this my answer to that. Fancy horse dresses! Also, I like to imagine that Centaur hair grows more like a horse’s mane than human hair, so really long, and tending to fall to one or the other side of their head. So maybe some Centaur cultures are really into braiding?
Minotaur time! Maybe it’s a bit stereotypical to imagine a Minotaur with a nose ring, but honestly it just fits in my brain. Maybe it has some kind of cultural significance, like maybe it acts the same way as a wedding ring, or maybe it denotes rank in their community. Another important bit are those big lovely horns! I can imagine all kinds of decorations on those bad boys! You could go simple, and just slap a few simple rings on there, or could a little more complex and do piercings,(Does it count as a piercing if it’s a horn?) and hang a bunch of dangly stuff on em! You could paint the horns, carve designs in them, heck, you could even drill holes in both horns, and run a chord or chain connecting them! All kinds of possibilities!
Finally, let’s talk lizards, specifically Dragonborn. Honestly, I can’t imagine Dragonborn painting their scales, or even wearing too much flashy jewelry. The impression I get from Dragonborn is that they are immensely proud of their Draconic heritage, and tampering too much with their scales would probably be seen as either disrespectful, or maybe even shameful.(Because why would you want to hide your scales, the single most visible sign of your glorious draconic lineage, unless you were disgusted by them, ashamed of them?) What I CAN see them doing is trying every possible way to show off and enhance their scales. Dragonborn would definitely take meticulous care of their scales, and that includes shining them up to make shine like a dang mirror. They might even use some kind of wax, or something to protect them from damage.
My point is, with all this rigamaroll I just spouted, is self expression should not be not limited to human sensibilities. No matter what they look like, these are people, and people aren’t manufactured on a conveyer belt. Get creative with your characters looks, take things like species, background, and culture into account, have fun with it!
#dnd homebrew#dnd races#dnd#d&d worldbuilding#d&d ideas#kenku#tabaxi#rabbitfolk#harengon#minotaur#centaur#orcs#dnd dragonborn#tiefling
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The Previously Undateables' DnD Characters
Part 2 to this post:
Diavolo was super excited when he heard MC was running a campaign with the brothers. MC had to explain to him that there were too many people in the brothers' campaign, but they would run one especially for him and the residents of Purgatory Hall.
Diavolo: Human Ranger
When MC explained the classes to him, he heard that he could have a pet and immediately fell in love. (Diavolo made the mistake of telling Satan about his pet panther. Satan wouldn't stop begging MC for a cat familiar for his wizard). Diavolo's character was born and raised in the wild, and a total sweetheart. He keeps trying to befriend every enemy he sees. He's so inquisitive about the world MC has created, so he spends half the time asking questions and exploring the environment, and the other half complimenting MC's creativity.
Barbatos: Tiefling Warlock
In hindsight, Barbatos should have chosen a simpler class to start with. His busy schedule made it difficult to learn how to be an effective spellcaster. It did however provide him with a good excuse to invite MC around for tea to help with his character creation. His character played into his skills as a loyal servant, allowing MC to give him guidance through his patron. It warmed his heart to see Lord Diavolo so full of laughter. He couldn't help but favour Diavolo's ideas and plans whilst playing. He would often exchange veiled threats with Simeon while in character, which would often go unnoticed by Luke and Diavolo.
Solomon: Drow Wild Magic Sorcerer
Solomon knows the game well and has run a campaign before. He decides to take on a spell-casting role and enjoys playing the charismatic witty sorcerer he aspires to be. His character is able to charm even the most headstrong of NPCs. MC takes great delight in regularly asking him to roll a d100 for a random magical side effect, leaving a trail of chaos in his wake. Solomon is the one who inadvertedly breaks MC's campaign through eccentric spell choices and character actions. He helps MC when they're getting thrown off by Diavolo and Simeon's antics, helping to steer the party back onto the main plot.
Simeon: Elf Bard
Simeon wasn't sure what class he should play, but Solomon talked him into playing a melee focused bard. Although completely unfamiliar with role-playing games, Simeon's affinity for storytelling makes him a wonderful bard. His character is very much like Simeon: proficient in heroic tales, spells and combat. MC made the mistake of asking Simeon to role-play his uses of 'Vicious Mockery'— thinking it would be funny to hear the angel try to shout insults. A decision they would soon regret. He usually masks his sharp tongue with an angelic smile and sarcasm, but in character he dishes out curses that leave even Barbatos speechless.
Luke: Aasimar Cleric of Life
Luke feels guilty about hurting other people, even if they aren't real. His character is awfully similar to Michael, although Luke will vehemently deny it. He will immediately distrust any demonic/fiendish character the party encounter, including Barbatos's character. Everybody dotes on Luke, including MC. Each of them shower him in praise whenever he heals them in battle. Diavolo may have developed a habit of ruffling Luke's hair when thanking him. No, he isn't leaning into Diavolo for extra head pats! Why would he want praise from a mean old demon?!
#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me swd#obey me!#obey me simeon#obey me solomon#obey me diavolo#obey me barbatos#obey me luke#obey me headcanons#perdita talks#I had way too much fun with these#I'd love to sketch out some of these ideaa#or see other people draw it
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Let’s Talk About Epithets
I have 50 minutes before it’s time to tune in to my weekly show, but I’ve been thinking about a trend in fanfiction that a LOT of baby writers and veteran writers alike fall into. You can probably guess what it is.
It’s epithets, yep. What it says on the tin.
I know we had a wave of discussions a few years ago on here about “the blondette” and other such egregiously glaring terms, but I’m in a D&D fandom so it is just wall to wall “the tiefling/wizard/barbarian/taller woman” and so on.
Huge disclaimer here: there is no hard and fast rule for anything in writing. This is a specific guide for tightening up your writing if this way of tightening is what you’re looking for. That’s all.
The first thing to know is that there are very few instances in writing, academic or creative, that can’t work under an 80/20 “golden ratio.” It’s not “never use ‘is’ in an essay,” because - as I am certain you’ve found out if you’ve written one - the contortions you sometimes have to go through to get rid of “weak verbs” are not always worth the effort. It can make your language sound overly stilted. That’s where the 80/20 rule comes in. 80% strong verbs will carry and erase those few times it was necessary to use some derivative of “is.”
Now. Epithets.
I know the drive to use them largely stems from being inside same-sex ships where two or more people mentioned are using the same pronouns. You’re trying to avoid using too many names and you want to keep the scene clear, so it seems reasonable to specify who is doing what via description.
80% of the time, that isn’t what you want. Epithets can be used with great effect in certain situations, such as:
There’s a new person being introduced and your characters don’t know who yet.
You the author are keeping someone’s identity somewhat secret.
Your viewpoint character is actively noticing/appreciating a feature of someone they know.
You want a kind of detached, aloof feel from said character or are actively trying to alienate your viewpoint character’s understanding of them.
There are of course other situations, but that final one is where a lot of fanfiction falls apart. Because most of us write in third person limited. We are telling the story from the point of view of a certain character without using “I.” And when it comes to ships, a lot of us are going for an emotional effect.
I am here to tell you that if you are not using epithets to craft a specific feeling, they can and will leech emotion from your work. They are best suited for third person omniscient storytelling, where the narrator is apart from the events happening and sometimes are their own character. You might get everyone’s thoughts, or just a description of everything happening to everyone. In that case, using impartial language is not out of place as often, though it can still of course be overused (and isn’t necessary even for 3PO).
“But what about the names and pronouns issue?”
I feel you. I have a frankly irresponsible number of f/f fics on my page. That’s why I’m here, writing this out. I even have an f/f/f threesome in the works, though at the time of writing this I’m still writing the chapter where they’re all...involved. But I have plenty of interactions beforehand.
Here’s the thing. To avoid pulling your readers out of the action/emotion, these are the three things that have worked best for me (so take with a grain of salt):
Inhabit your viewpoint character. If you are strongly planted in the mind of the character and what they are doing, you can do a lot of defaulting to their pronoun and it will naturally make sense by simple process of elimination.
“Character A watched Character B moving quickly towards her and nervously wound a loose string of her sweater around her finger.”
It is a safe bet that Character A is winding her own finger in her own sweater and not Character B’s. You don’t have to specify. You could even start that sentence with “she” and it will still scan. You could even replace Character B with “her” and it will still scan, but a name to break up all the pronouns is a natural instinct. It’s up to you and the context of the sentences before and after.
Beef up your descriptions. “Character A looked stunning. Character B brushed a nonexistent speck of dust from the taller woman’s lapel and smiled.” Character A and B obviously know each other, as is the case in most ship fics. They are not thinking of one another in impartial terms. So adjust the scene:
“Character A looked stunning. Character B reached up to brush a nonexistent speck of dust from her lapel and smiled.”
Yes you could make the case that B was reaching for her own lapel, but that’s assuming B has one at all, and even if she does, the simple fact that you started by centering the “camera” on Character A will guide interpretations of what follows with just a little nudge from you (”reached up”). You are relaying the same information without alienating your characters.
Which brings me to my last point:
Trust your readers. None of the above tips help if you are too worried that your readers will get lost. Have confidence in your scene and pick the actions/descriptions that best communicate what you need them in the shortest span. Which is arguably its own skill, and that’s okay. It’s just not the focus of today’s super quick tip.
Using the above guidelines will also help you cut down on sentence length, since you’re not taking time to specify who is doing what with so much force. (everybody_liked_that_dot_meme)
Again, grain of salt, there is no one way to do things, etc. But that 80/20 ratio is a lifesaver. You don’t have to cut epithets out completely, or at all if you like them. But they do have an effect, and it’s better to know what it is so you can wield them when you mean to create that effect and adjust your writing when you don’t. It is so, so difficult to immerse yourself in an emotional or steamy scene when the language itself is pushing you away from the characters (and the characters from each other). I am here to read about these characters. I know who they are. They know each other. Let your language reflect that.
Above all, have fun.
#writing#writing advice#i did go to college for this but that's not the end-all be-all of authority#just one person here to help if it helps#fanfiction
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Crack prompt. Evil support group for liking Caleb.
Well this was a new one. Eodwulf walked into a library with two non humans. One was a purple tiefling with decorated horns. The other was a drow. Eodwulf was surprised to see this group. It was truly a first time meeting everyone. The tiefling smiled like a would and leaned down, resting his head on the drow's lap.
"I was told Caleb Widogast wished to discuss things with me." Eodwulf spoke quietly, silently preparing a spell in case he was attacked. The tiefling chuckled and moved his tail through the air.
"Yeah. So did we. He's not here." The tiefling smiled. The Drow looked unimpressed, he played with the tiefling's hair.
"What's your name, hotshot?" The tiefling grinned. The drow cracked trying desperately.
"I am Eodwulf. I know the shadowhand, but apologies. I am unfamiliar with you." Wulf ducked his head down, missing the look that Essek and the tiefling shared. The tiefling's grin widened.
"I am the Nonagon." Lucien stood up and bowed dramatically. "Our precious wizard's current mark."
Essek dropped his head into his hand. "'Mark' is… a loaded term. I don't think he was planning on killing you." Essek sighed.
"If he did, I wouldn't even be mad about it." Lucien's smile shrank a bit. "He would be creative about it, and imagination is something that some mages lack, current company not included in that count."
Essek seemed to want to say something, but a door opened and invisible servants brought out food.
The air smelled of cinnamon and mints. The room became warmer as tea was brought in. Steam filled the air. Eodwulf sat down, grabbing small snacks to eat and ponder.
"Who are you to my wizard." Lucien asked, sitting up with his legs crossed. Eodwulf noticed that the tiefling was wearing thigh boots.
Ok that will be a distraction. Eodwulf was almost jealous of Caleb. That tiefling was fucking pretty.
The tiefling grabbed a cookie, the light catching his pretty, almost multicolored, glass blades with metal framework for support. The tiefling looked at Eodwulf, hard eyes trying to read him, conflicting with an easy smile. A lower aura filled the room and Eodwulf was almost ready to answer. The tiefling seemed to be reasonable. He deserved an answer.
"I was a friend to him. We studied together. We used to serve the empire." Eodwulf smiled, remembering the good times that they shared, reading, studying, killing their teacher's political opponents. "He is to be my superior."
"And if he wishes to not be?" Lucien cocked his head to the side. There was an obvious white streak that fell from the back of his head.
Eodwulf was quiet for way too much time. Eodwulf either really didn't know, or he didn't want to say.
"It's alright. You can tell us." Lucien whispered, pulling at the mind of the wizard.
"I- Astrid and I would have to either personally convince him or take him off the board." Eodwulf's voice evened out. There was no emotion, just cold hard duty.
Lucien looked at Essek. Essek took a deep breath, but didn't react to the voice. Lucien looked horrified. His tail wrapped around Essek's ankle. Essek remained stoic.
"What about you two?"
"Caleb Widogast seldom does what others want of him," Essek mused.
"It's what makes him interesting." Lucien grinned.
"You have the oddest taste in men." Essek pointed out.
"It's what makes me special." Lucien blew a kiss towards Essek, who blushed.
Eodwulf raised an eyebrow. "I remember you."
"We've never met. I don't ally myself with the cerberus assembly members. It ends badly for me." Lucien's smile faded.
"Then why did you hang around Caleb after you left the circus?" Eodwulf almost snarled. Lucien's face went sharp. The magic seemed to press against Eodwulf, forcing the air out of his lung.
Essek finally reached down and squeezed Lucien's tail. The magic released.
"And what of you, elf. What if Caleb doesn't do what you want." Eodwulf looked his eyes on Essek.
"I'm better for it." Essek smiled ruefully.
Eodwulf eyed the duo suspiciously. "Why is it that Caleb drew the three of us here."
Lucien shrugged. "Maybe to remind ourselves that he's constantly evolving and that we'll never see him for who he is completely."
Eodwulf laughed. "Pretty clever for someone of your stature."
Lucien hissed. "Fuck off. I'm dyslexic, not stupid."
Essek looked over at him.
Lucien's tail squeezed Essek.
"Is that why you can't match up to us magic-wise." Eodwulf smirked.
Lucien smiled and cocked his head to the side. Nothing happened for a moment, but Essek just nodded.
His natural eyes lit up bright red.
The whole room seemed to melt around Eodwulf. The library melted around him, taking away the sweets and teas. The chair that Eodwulf was sitting on vanished underneath him. Eodwulf landed on his butt cold concrete.
The forms of Lucien and Essek melted into…
The tiefling was weird. The tiefling's hair went more relaxed with more white streaks. The clothes changed into a white blouse with an impossible neckline. There were scars littered all over his chest. The biggest one completely covering his sternum. His pants were covered in patterns. His boots went halfway up his thighs. His horns were decorated in even more finer gems and metals.
The drow morphed into Caleb, gray hairs framing his face. He was wearing clothes from the dynasty and he bore his own facial scars. He looked so much older than Eodwulf. Trent really poisoned that man.
Bars filled the space between them. The jail cell around Eodwulf made itself apparent.
"What the fuck?" Eodwulf growled.
"The war is over. You still are prepared to perpetuate a dead man's will. There will be someone coming to talk to you about rehabilitation, and afterwards we will try this again. " Caleb stood up and walked away, Mollymauk at his heels.
"You're a good man." Molly whispered.
"I'm getting old, my love." Caleb hummed.
#critical role#caleb widogast#mollymauk tealeaf#lucien critical role#widomauk#essek theyless#eodwulf#prompt
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Taste
Summary: The blue bard is sickeningly sweet for Astarion's preferences, but he'll never forget her taste.
Author’s Notes: Taste is a collection of retellings of Astarion's scenes with the player character from the Baldur's Gate 3 early access, but with a little more embellishments. Plus, it has glimpses of my tiefling's backstory.
I had horrible, horrible artist's and writer's block and I needed to get this out of my system to get the creative juices flowing again. Please excuse any typos or lack of quality.
Larian give us the bard class pls I am begging of you
I - Blueberry Wine
The time for rest has come.
Bedrolls are strewn on the campgrounds, and most of its inhabitants are already asleep. Nothing can be heard save for the crackle of fire, the chirp of birds in the woods, and soft snoring.
If it wasn’t for their common goal of removing those damned illithid tadpoles from their heads before they undergo ceremorphosis, the members of this party wouldn’t even spend five minutes within each others’ presence. Now, they’re sleeping in one place. It takes some measure of trust for that.
The dreams of the tiefling in their ragtag group aren’t sweet tonight, to say the least.
Brows furrowed as another nightmare wormed into her psyche, the tiefling tosses and turns in her bedroll, a thin film of sweat giving her forehead a slight sheen in the firelight. Eyes shooting open, she choked back a gasp, lest she wake up her companions in the camp. The crackle of the campfire and the smell of burning wood gave her some semblance of comfort, at least, reminding her of distant memories.
A warm hearth, a kind face, the smell of freshly baked blueberry pie; simple comforts from her youth that she missed terribly.
The comfort that accompanied the nostalgia was enough to make her drift back to sleep. Woefully, it didn’t stop the nightmares from coming back, now centered around the tiefling’s early years.
Small, bare feet pitter-pattered on the wet pavement, frantic gasps escaped her dry mouth. Choking back a sob, more people went after her, shouting, hurling words that scraped her heart.
“Stop! Thief!”
“Devil!”
“Slay the demon!”
Lungs burning from exertion, the little tiefling whelp coughs, rasps for air, and slides under a cart. In the dark, she can see a narrow alleyway, which she scurries into. The men run past her hiding spot, cursing and muttering amongst themselves. Relief floods through her as their torchlights grew dim.
Safe, at last.
Her trembling arms had been holding on to precious cargo; a stale loaf of bread, wrapped in linen. It’s not a delectable morsel of steak, or rich bone marrow, but it’s better than the rocks she grinded with her sharp teeth for breakfast.
As she takes it out of the cloth, a stone drops in her stomach and horror twists on her young face. The tiefling isn’t holding a loaf of bread, but a severed head of a drow. A scream threatened to escape her throat and pierce the night air, but the tiefling maiden could only gasp as she felt a presence behind her.
Wine red eyes still heavy with sleep met with alert, ruby ones. She isn’t dreaming any longer.
In the dim firelight, she sees him. Astarion.
Truth be told, she doesn’t quite know what to feel about the posh elf. Astarion’s handsome face and fair curls are easy on the eyes, but it only reminded her of how hellish she looks in comparison due to her infernal ancestry. His sharp, calculating eyes puts her at unease, even when his gaze isn’t directed towards her. He has a way of making people feel beneath him, like vulnerable prey. Serenity is not exempt from that, despite her efforts to be pleasant to him. Not to mention, Astarion’s attitude and mannerisms reminded her of the uppity nobles she had the displeasure of encountering in her colorful past.
In short, he’s a handsome fellow with a revolting attitude, at least to Serenity’s standards. Lust and indignation battles with each other in the tiefling’s psyche.
It doesn’t help at all that the elf is fond of calling her pet names, such as “sweetheart” or “dear”. No one calls her such sweet things with genuine intent, not after she saw the drow’s head on a pike, and to hear them from his condescending mouth stirs something dark in her heart.
It especially inflames her whenever he calls her “darling”.
She wanted to pounce on him. However, she wasn’t sure what she wanted after that.
Tear his pretty face asunder with her nails and watch his handsome features contort in agony, perhaps? Or watch him writhe underneath her in a more… carnal manner as she takes out all of her frustration by mashing her ravenous mouth against his lovely lips?
Maybe both?
“Oh, Serenity. You have no need for that sort of… decadence,” she thinks to herself.
Alas, her body says otherwise.
“Shit,” he says upon meeting eyes with her, distracting the tiefling from her thoughts. Serenity didn’t expect such a vulgar word to come out of his pretty mouth, and she didn’t expect the gleaming fangs inside of it either.
How could she not see it the first few times?
The dead boar they found on the road, the fact that she had never seen him consume any food, and the wolfish way he eyes her neck when he thought she wasn’t looking should’ve given it away.
Astarion is a vampire. Worse, he's a vampire who’s intending to sink his teeth in Serenity’s neck.
Whatever terrible things she secretly wanted to do to him, she had no chance of enacting them in this situation. Hells, if anything, Astarion is the one with the capacity to do terrible things to her. The tiefling will be at his mercy, if she doesn’t act fast. So, why isn’t her body doing anything to move?
Heart racing, she needed to say something, at least.
“Stop,” Serenity warns him, voice low, baring her own sharp teeth. The tiefling had considered smashing her precious lute over his head as a last resort. Before the bard can lash out, he pulls back, alarmed.
“No no, it’s not what it looks like, I swear!” Astarion hastily blurts, panic evident in his voice. “ I wasn’t going to hurt you! I just needed- well, blood.”
The elf’s admission confirms it; Astarion is a vampire, a creature enslaved to sanguine hunger.
At that moment, an expression that Serenity hasn’t seen on the elf before twists his features: guilt. The vampire knew he’s betraying her trust, and it shows.
“How long since you killed someone? Days? Hours?” Serenity asks, on guard now, but still sitting on her bedroll.
Eyes widening, Astarion’s tone becomes defensive. “I’ve never killed anyone!” he exclaims. Then, his expression turns grim. “Well, not for food. I feed on animals. Boars, deer, kobolds! Whatever I can get.”
The lass feels slightly reassured that she’s not dealing with a blood-sucking serial killer, but the possibility of him lying puts her on edge again.
“But it’s not enough,” the pale elf speaks again. Serenity half expected him to say this, he did try to bite her after all. “Not if I have to fight. I feel so… weak.”
And there it was, the last thing she expected from him: vulnerability. His reluctance to show weakness was written all over his face. Perhaps it wounds his pride? Regardless of the doubt she has for him, it changed Serenity’s perception of the vampire ever so slightly.
“If I just had a bit of blood, I could think clearer. Fight better. Please.”
Now this is a pleasant surprise. Astarion saying please? Is this a dream?
Still, the tiefling wanted to dig deeper at the truth. Brows knitting together in concentration, she knew better than to use the tadpole, but the damn thing established a psionic link with other infected individuals.
Serenity pushes into the vampire’s mind to search for the truth.
“I- what’s this? What’s happening?” Astarion blurts, experiencing slight discomfort from the intrusion.
Pushing deep into the elf’s cracked and quivering memories, Serenity strains as she sifts through centuries worth of them, until she has reached its heart. There, she found herself in Astarion’s shoes; quite literally. She sees dark eyes that commanded her to feed, and instinctively, her body follows suit. Serenity, experiencing this through Astarion’s memory, opens her mouth, biting down, but not into a tender, pulsing neck. Though she wanted to recoil in disgust, there was no other choice; she couldn’t physically resist. The choice had been made for her- no, made for Astarion.
Astarion’s fangs pierce the twisting body of a rat - the only thing his master allows him to eat.
In return, Serenity’s own memories leak through the cracks of her psyche, and Astarion finds himself in the body of a wee girl with horns too big for her head. Ravenously, he inhales the sweet, buttery aroma of a freshly-baked pie resting on a windowsill. Astarion’s hands, now small and of bluish color, reach for the baked good with caution. A warm, ash-colored hand presses on his shoulder, and he sees the smiling face of a tall, drow man. Instead of hurting him for attempting to steal, the dark elf ushers him to a table, and offers him a slice with a compassionate smile. Serenity will never forget her first taste of the buttery pie crust, the sweet blueberries, and a hint of lemon and salt.
Now, Astarion will never forget that taste, either.
The connection between them severed, Serenity takes a moment to collect herself.
“You ate animals because you were forced to. Not because you wanted to,” she mumbles, eyebrows knitted together. Is it sympathy? Or perhaps his experiences reminded her of her own relationship with food?
Whatever it was, the tiefling’s perception of Astarion drastically shifted. On the surface, Astarion is a noble who turns up his nose at folks like her, but in truth, he suffered under the hands of a cruel master.
Being a pompous ass is a defense mechanism for him.
“I- yes,” Astarion says with resignation. “Yes, I ate whatever disgusting vermin my master picked. So, you can see why I’m slow to trust you,” he continues, and Serenity swore the expression he wore on his face tugged a few strings in her heart.
“But I do trust you, and you can trust me,” Astarion tells her.
Serenity thinks it might not be fair for her not to. How can she say that she can’t, after she saw his past for herself, and he didn’t show any hostility towards her for intruding upon his darkest, most haunting memories?
“I do. I believe you,” the bard responds, and she can hear his relief when he mutters “Thank you.”
Perhaps Serenity had judged him too harshly in the past. The drow who took her in cultivated compassion in her heart, and it’s beckoning to her.
“Do you need blood?” Serenity asks him, and there is genuine surprise on his face.
“I was about to ask,” he tells her, expression shifting into something more pleasant. “I only need a taste, I swear.”
“As long as you don’t take a drop more than you need,” Serenity replies, loosening her clothing slightly, her smallclothes peeking through.
“Really?” he asks, and he sounds almost eager.
“I- of course. Not one drop more.”
That damn vampire flashes her a smile that sends lightning rippling through her veins.
Astarion’s yearning eyes flicked to her exposed flesh, barely making out the purple tinge on her bluish skin as blood rushed from her chest to her face. Seeing where his eyes are roaming, Serenity feels her heart racing faster, and she swiftly lies down, back turned away from him. The tiefling bard is not about to let her companion see her flustered state.
Face inches away from her head, Astarion catches a whiff of the tiefling’s scent. He quietly thanked the gods that she didn’t smell of sulfur or rotting meat; instead, the bard smells of ash from freshly burned incense, laced with a warm, spiced scent.
The vampire holds her gently, delicately, until he strikes.
Astarion sinks deep, fangs like shards of ice piercing her neck. Serenity lets out a gasp, and her face contorts into an expression of pain and discomfort. Thankfully, the pain is quick and sharp, and as the vampire continues to feed, it fades gently into throbbing numbness. The bard feels her blood coursing through her body, into Astarion’s mouth, who sucked and slurped it hungrily.
He leans forward, one arm almost draping over the bard’s torso to support his weight, while the other still holds her head. Palm running through her short obsidian hair, he stops as they touch one of her horns, hand enclosing into a fist around it. Gently tugging, the elf tilts her head for better access.
Astarion’s lips are wet from his meal’s blood and sweat, and his own saliva. They glided on the sensitive skin ever so slightly as he pursed them and sucked harder. Serenity found her breath catching in her throat from his actions, pulse quickening as her hand flew to grasp Astarion’s arm, filed fingernails turning white at the end.
In a figurative and literal sense, she’s holding on to dear life.
“Ah, Astarion, that’s enough,” she mewls, hand moving to grasp his hair, fingernails running through his scalp. Not enough to hurt, but enough for the vampire to snap out of it due to the sensation it produced.
The vampire moans, almost carnally, then it is followed by a surprised, questioning grunt. Serenity’s pleas, and the scrape of her fingernails took him from his trance-like state. Immediately, he removes himself from her neck, swallowing thickly.
“Oh. Of course.”
Serenity sits up as he pulls back, light-headed from the blood loss. She turns to the pale elf, her breathing ragged as her fingers gingerly pressed on her bite wound. The tiefling felt a blush creep on her face, neck, and pointy ears as she gazes upon Astarion’s face. In the firelight, she can see that his pupils are blown out in ecstasy, and blood is trickling from the corner of his mouth.
“That- that was amazing,” Astarion purrs, wiping off her blood and bringing his fingers to his mouth, savoring it to the last drop. “My mind is finally clear. I feel strong. I feel…”
He pauses, and Serenity stopped breathing for a moment.
“Happy,” he continued, sighing in contentment as he gave her a gentle, genuine smile.
Serenity had to blink a few times to confirm that she wasn’t seeing things.
She clears her throat, hoping to dissipate the delicious tension between them. “I look forward to seeing you fight,” the bard says to him, drawing her knees to her chest.
“Shouldn’t take long. So many people need killing,” Astarion responds, bowing ever so slightly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, you’re invigorating, but I need something more… filling.”
The pale elf turns around and just like that, he is back to normal, snobbish self.
Serenity slumps back on her bedroll, exhaling slowly as her heart finally slows down. Her body crashes from the surge of adrenaline and the blood loss. Turning her head, she watches as the elf stalks towards the forest; stronger, more confident, and ready to hunt.
“This is a gift, you know,” Astarion tells her, back still turned from her, looking over his shoulder.
“I won’t forget it.”
Serenity won’t forget it either.
It didn’t take long before Astarion found a deer in the forest. As he drank the beast’s blood, he couldn’t help but compare the taste to Serenity’s blood. The animal is more filling indeed, but now? Nothing compares to the taste of the tiefling’s delicious blood.
She is the first humanoid he ever tasted, after all.
And how will he describe her taste?
The darling tiefling is bubbly, gentle, and sweet, much like her demeanor; almost sickeningly so, for his standards. It’s comparable to the Monastery of the Yellow Rose’s blueberry wine: a fragrant dessert wine he had the pleasure of consuming with delicate cheeses and light cakes back when he didn’t have any fangs.
Or perhaps he had associated her with the fruit due to her memories mingling with his.
Either way, when he said that he won’t forget it, he wasn’t just referring to the favor she did for him. Astarion was referring to Serenity’s taste as well.
Meanwhile, in the camp, Serenity draws her lute to her chest, plucking the strings softly in an attempt to lull herself to sleep. It doesn’t ease her into slumber like it usually does. Sighing, she squeezes her thighs together, heat pooling between them as she recalled the vampire’s lips on her pulsing neck. Perhaps it’s not the lute that she should be plucking at.
Reaching into the waistband of her trousers, the bard gives in to her secret desires.
At least there weren’t any more nightmares for the night.
#baldur's gate#baldur's gate 3#astarion#astarion x mc#oc: serenity | zalia#tiefling#tiefling character#tiefling bard#cw: blood
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playing d&d with the seijoh third years
warning: some swearing
a/n: inspired by this video here. i’ve never actually played d&d, so i apologize if i got any of the mechanics wrong
the character sheets
[y/n] - the dm (dungeon master)
you were given this job because you were the one most familiar with d&d
much regrets
oikawa - elf!bard
that one player that always wants to flirt with the tavern wenches
probably has some tragic backstory about how he was the prince next in line to rule his kingdom, only to run away from home in order to escape the expectations of his parents or something
iwaizumi - dragonborn!barbarian
he just wanted to make his character look like godzilla
that one player that is actively trying to follow the main storyline while everyone else fucks around
matsukawa - tiefling!rogue
that one dude that plays as the sexy femme fatale character
has an ongoing joke with oikawa that oikawa’s going to marry him by the end of the campaign
doesn’t think that oikawa is good enough to ask for his hand in marriage
(if he had stayed a prince, though)
hanamaki - dwarf!wizard
chaotic
absolutely chaotic
he and oikawa together are just dumb and dumber
the scenario
“you arrive at the abandoned ruins. the smell of mildew permeates through the air as you approach a mossy wall engraved with mystic symbols. turning the corner, you spot the figure of a man. his cape billows in the wind and he-”
“i cast magic missile!” “bro…” “i agree with hanamaki. this suspicious dude needs to die” “mattsun, no! what if he’s friendly?”
it was a lazy sunday afternoon, and everyone had agreed to gather at iwaizumi’s house to play a session of d&d
being the most familiar with the game, you were given the job of dm, something that you were now starting to regret
hanamaki was too bloodthirsty, matsukawa kept trying (and failing) to seduce everyone, and oikawa almost flipped over the table once during an encounter with a travelling merchant because he kept failing his persuasion checks
(some bard he was supposed to be…)
iwaizumi was honestly the only one keeping you sane at this point. at least somebody was showing interest in the elaborate and creative story elements that you were trying to incorporate
“…do you really want to kill him?” “yes” “*sigh* fine, make a stealth check since he doesn’t see you” “you are going to get us killed!” “don’t worry, iwaizumi. we’ll be fineee”
you boredly watch as hanamaki furrows his eyebrows in concentration and rolls his die
“an eight” “we’re screwed” “don’t jinx it, iwa-chan!”
rolling your own die from behind the screen, you stare dead into hanamaki’s eyes as narrate what happens next
“before you are able to cast your spell, the man notices your presence and turns around to menacingly chuckle at your group. ‘so, you’ve figured me out, huh? well, i’ll never let you have the crystal!’ pulling down the hood of his cape, gundir the travelling merchant reveals himself and prepares to attack. roll for initiative”
the table erupts into groans, while oikawa gasps in shock
“gundir, nooooooo” “calm down, trashykawa. it’s just gundir” “but iwa-chan! gundir was our friend, and now we have to kill him?? why is fate so cruel?!” “…anyways”
after everyone rolls for initiative, matsukawa is the first one to go
“what if i charm him with my womanly wiles?” “do you think that’s how women actually talk?” “ummmmm, no?” “no wonder you’re single” “ouch, [y/n]-chan. ouch”
after many more arguments and shenanigans, the battle comes to an end. it goes relatively well, all things considering
“now, oikawa, you’re on your last saving throw. if you don’t get higher than a ten, i’m afraid that your character’s going to die and you’ll have to make a new one” “b-but [y/n]-chan, i haven’t even married mattsun yet!” “good. you don’t deserve me. i’m too good for you”
praying under his breath, oikawa rolls his die as everyone around the table watches in anticipation
…he rolls a two
letting out a yelp of panic, oikawa flips the table over and scatters the papers everywhere
“shittykawa!!!” “iwa-chan, i’m sorry! i panicked—ack!”
you, matsukawa, and hanamaki stare at each other as you all silently agree to never play d&d ever again…at least not with oikawa
in conclusion: damn you, gundir
#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu scenarios#haikyuu reader insert#haikyuu headcanons#oikawa tooru#iwaizumi hajime#matsukawa issei#hanamaki takahiro#seijoh#aoba johsai#dungeons and dragons#d&d
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Servitor: Day 3
Shapeshifting is a quite interesting topic to me partly because I am LGBTQ+ aspie, and partly because my rather modest (but still above ) number of bodies I wanna transform onto for whenever I get morphological freedom certified for myself.
So I have Marilith, ‘Fallen’ Angel, Tiefling, Serperior Naga, Raccoon Anthro, Homestuck Troll, Moth Anthro and DECmate III+ Objecthead. So nothing much really but it’s noteworthy to try each of them.
Affirmations:
I am a master of shapeshifting
You are well permitted to shapeshift in public
Why am I so aesthetic?
I have full morphological freedom
You are still recognized for who you are even in other shapes
Why do I like shapeshfting so much?
Spoken the affs: [ Checked ]
Felt pride of accomplishing something note-worthy today: [ Only partially applies btut it still checks out well enough ]
Added open source mascots photos: [ Checked ]
So as I am starting to lack of wide topic ideas already, I might simply turn this entire challenge onto a daily creative habit by stripping down the affirmations part and going more stream-of-consciousness type of thing.
Next topic will depend upon what I wanna address tomorrow, so stay tuned comrades
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𝕎𝕪𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕟 𝔹𝕦𝕣𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕤 for @eeriesims‘ The Many Suitors of One Clary Wiggins
The world isn’t kind to demons. Wyvern grew up being called all sorts of names: Devil-spawn, son of Hell, Infernal fiend, the fruit of Lilith’s rotten womb... you know, the usual stuff. Only his mother possessed horns and leathery wings however, his father was perfectly human. A Daughter of Torment wandered free from the bowels of Hell, so that little Wyvern might be born upon the shores of Glimmerbrook. Though his mother now frequents Eternal Damnation more than she does the Living Realm, and his father is nowhere to be seen, Wyvern has done all he can to build and maintain a life in the only place he’s ever known.
Read more for Wyvern’s full biography!
ℕ𝕒𝕞𝕖: Wyvern Burroughs
𝔹𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕙𝕕𝕒𝕪/𝔸𝕘𝕖: 18/10/1991 — 28 years old
𝕊𝕡𝕖𝕔𝕚𝕖𝕤: Demonspawn (he’s essentially a tiefling ok)
ℍ𝕖𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥: 6′1
𝕊𝕖𝕩𝕦𝕒𝕝 𝕆𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟: Pansexual
𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣/ℙ𝕣𝕠𝕟𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕤: Male — He/him
𝕆𝕔𝕔𝕦𝕡𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕚𝕟 𝔾𝕝𝕚𝕞𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕓𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕜: GBPD Detective
ℕ𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕟𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕤:
𝕎𝕪𝕝𝕚𝕖 — A shortened version of Wyvern he adopted very early on, introduces himself as this.
𝕃𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝕎𝕪𝕣𝕞 — His mother’s pet name for him.
𝔻𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝔻. — Stands for “Devil Detective”, his GBPD partner calls him this.
𝔽𝕦𝕟 𝕃𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝕋𝕚𝕕𝕓𝕚𝕥𝕤:
1. “No one can ever know I play the violin, all right?” — Wyvern plays the violin. In fact, he plays the violin quite well. His mother always had a fondness for human music, it was one of the only aspects of their culture she could appreciate. After trialling piano, guitar, and a brief stint with the harp, Wyvern stuck with the violin and took lessons at his mother’s behest well in to his late teens. He still plays sometimes, it’s very melancholy when he does.
2. “I promise, I’m not as scary as I look.” — Wyvern starts almost every conversation with the “Demon Disclaimer,” a spiel about how he isn’t going to devour your soul or curse you for eternity. Even in Glimmerbrook, where supernatural creatures are abundant, he likes to make sure. It’s also one of the reasons he decided to join the police force, so that he could be seen to be doing good. It took a long time to earn that trust and the badge that came with it though, he had the longest officer internship of anyone in GBPD’s history.
3. “There’s no way I’m missing the midnight viewing.” — Wyvern is a bit of a huge movie nerd. He’ll watch any genre so long as it’s well-written and creatively shot, but his favourites lie with 80′s horror classics and cheesy 90′s car chase scenes. He’s also been known to enjoy the odd romantic-comedy when the mood strikes him, but will boast that he can predict them scene-for-scene. That being said, the ending of La La Land made him cry like a little bitch. Didn’t see that one coming, huh Wylie?
4. “There’s a line where the sea meets the sky, it calls me— I’m joking.” — Cheesy Moana reference aside, Wyvern has a bad case of wanderlust. He’s been in Glimmerbrook all his life, and he’s always wanted to see more of the world... but why leave the place you’ve worked so hard to make your home? He's terrified of being met with rejection if he were to so much as dip his toes in adventure. A demonspawn can’t just stroll down any old street, or so he believes. His self-doubt is quiet, but boy oh boy, it’s real.
5. “Just five more minutes, okay?” — Wyvern loves nothing more than his bed. He has to set at least five alarms to get up in the morning, just so he can snooze them all and then leap out of bed with ten minutes to spare. He’s been known to doze at his desk in the precinct on quiet days, and sleep well in to the late afternoon on his days off. Attempts to instil healthier habits with morning jogs, fridge planners and social outings have all done little to help him.
6. “No, no. It’s not me that you want.”— Wyvern has had very limited romantic interactions throughout his life. Well, he’s had very limited meaningful romantic interactions. Though the man’s not shy of the old Netflix and chill by any stretch of the imagination, he more-often-than-not never lets anything progress past that point. That fear of rejection kicks in every single time: who could love a demonspawn? He’s had one serious relationship in the past, and it ended with him breaking it off when things were getting too real.
7. “Hey, I got us a round of tequila!”— Maybe it’s the demonic genes, but Wyvern can drink. As much as he enjoys a cold pint with his partner after work, he also enjoys slamming back Sambuca shots and ending the night asleep on the beach. He’s an incredibly volatile drunk. Fiercely protective of his social group, but also quick to misunderstand the conversation and take offence. Any issues are usually remedied with hugs and drawling “I love you guys.”
𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕀𝕞𝕡𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕥 ℚ𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤
➊ ℍ𝕠𝕨 𝕕𝕚𝕕 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕞𝕖𝕖𝕥 ℂ𝕝𝕒𝕣𝕪?
“Oh, it was really lame. We were in the general store, and she did that thing, you know. She was in front of me in the queue, but I only had a coffee to pay for, and she had a whole bunch of stuff... so, she let me go first. Real sweet of her. We talked about the weather a little, she said my coffee smelt good. I remember, she said it was a little too late in the day for her to be having coffee, but she really fancied one now. I've never wanted to give up my coffee to someone more than I did then.”
➋ 𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕤𝕥 𝕚𝕞𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕠𝕗 ℂ𝕝𝕒𝕣𝕪?
“She was like a breeze, you know? I forgot I had horns and yellow eyes for a second. Her hair was kind of messy like she’d had a busy afternoon, and there were loads of fresh fruit in her shopping cart, she was like this slice of wholesome. Normally new people in Glimmerbrook terrify me, but not her.”
➌ 𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕚𝕤 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕕𝕒𝕥𝕖?
“I like doing something a little silly, because I think if you can’t be silly with someone, then you’re doomed. Karaoke is my favourite first date — we don’t even have to go up and sing! But just in that easy-going environment, having a laugh, shouting over the tone-deaf performers because we'd rather fight the music than not have a conversation, you know?”
➍ 𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥'𝕤 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕣𝕖𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕡?
“Effortlessness. I know that sounds daft, because all good things need to be worked for, and all that jazz... but I think my ideal relationship would be something so natural and easy, that we forget we have to work at it even when times get tough. Just having someone to reach— equilibrium with, you know? I know it takes time to get to that point, but I just want to know that it’s possible. It would be so worth waiting for.”
“Bonus points for someone who doesn’t mind kicking my ass out of bed in the morning.”
➎ 𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥'𝕤 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕠𝕟𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖?
“Oh boy, all right. I have some serious trust issues, but not for lack of trying to resolve them. I can’t help but view everybody around me with a sort of air of uncertainty, and I suppose that makes me come off a little standoffish. It’s just that I so badly want people to have a positive opinion of me, that I spend the majority of my time being terrified that they don’t. I swear, I’m going to drive myself mad with it one day.”
“I’ve been told I use humour as a defence mechanism. Whenever the conversation is stilted, or I sense any kind of awkwardness: I’ll crack a joke. If someone asks me a serious question, or how I am: I’ll crack a joke. It’s second-nature at this point, and I swear it’s stemmed from wanting to make people smile. It also helps with the whole detective shtick, but that’s besides the point.”
“I loosen up around friends though, it’s not all so dreary! I still like to think I’m the sharp-witted, funny one, but it becomes less deflective. I’m also really protective of the people I love, foaming-at-the-mouth-crazy sort of protective. I know, it’s not everyone’s cup of tea... but there aren’t very many people who are willing to let me be that close to them, and there’s no way I’m going to let anything hurt those people.”
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