#Ballad/Sprite

[kheprriverse]

Ballad's new design! Can't wait to design every other forms he has as well. But that'll come later. Regardless, I really like how the design looks now compared to the others.

Masterpost | Lineup | Ko-fi - Extra details/thoughts under the cut.

The sword sheathe is a little crunchy, its part of a redesign idea I had that I scrapped. But the sheathe itself I liked, so I pasted it into his ref page before blocking in the new details. But it's crunchy because I had to resize it and didn't want to redraw the whole thing <- ultimately just laziness on my part.

Green cloth is totally optional, so here's a look underneath in case it's needed.

No colors for this version tho. I didn't really plan for it to be in the ref. Maybe some other day.

Regarding other forms. I may include either some of his mask forms but that'll require some thinking and concept art. I WILL be making a proper fullbody of his Fierce Deity form tho along with Forest (oot) getting a good ref as well. (Forest does have a ref I just don't like it so I never posted it lol.) And ofc once that's all done they'll get their own lineup page. Feel free to probe me for any details till then. It'll be kind of a long process since I'm also working on FD's origin.

#legend of zelda #legend of zelda au #zelda au #ocarina of time #Link #Ballad (Kheprriverse) #Ballad/Sprite #Kheprriverse #my art #My fav part when drawing Ballad is making them look criminally insane #In reality he just wants to protect their family #Also sorry for my really garbage handwriting and misspelling. I didnt want to wrestle the text tool. #Kheprriart

[anne0png]

wanted to try my hand at editing this gayboys og colors back onto him haha

#my edit #genshin impact #scaramouche #the balladeer #kunikuzushi #wanderer #color edit #sprite edit #genshsin impact edit #genshin impact color edit #genshin impact sprite edit #edit #artist on tumblr #tumblr artist #artist

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Neil! We were talking about Puck of Pook's Hill in one of my seminars, and we were wondering if your Puck in The Sandman was inspired by that book?

Yes and no. Puck of Pook's Hill is hugely influential on me and the way I think about the land and Sussex, and I'm sure it was an influence on Sandman #19.

But my wild Puck is closer to the Robin Goodfellow of the ballad:

From Oberon, in fairy land, The king of ghosts and shadows there, Mad Robin I, at his command, Am sent to view the night-sports here. What revel rout Is kept about, In every corner where I go, I will o'ersee, And merry be, And make good sport, with ho, ho, ho

More swift than lightning can I fly About this airy welkin soon, And, in a minute's space, descry Each thing that's done below the moon. There's not a hag Or ghost shall wag, Or cry, 'ware goblins! where I go; But Robin I Their feats will spy, And send them home with ho, ho, ho!

Whene'er such wanderers I meet, As from their night-sports they trudge home, With counterfeiting voice I greet, And call them on with me to roam: Through woods, through lakes; Through bogs, through brakes; Or else, unseen, with them I go, All in the nick, To play some trick, And frolic it, with ho, ho, ho!

Sometimes I meet them like a man, Sometimes an ox, sometimes a hound; And to a horse I turn me can, To trip and trot about them round. But if to ride My back they stride, More swift than wind away I go, O'er hedge and lands, Through pools and ponds, I hurry, laughing, ho, ho, ho!

When lads and lasses merry be, With possets and with junkets fine; Unseen of all the company, I eat their cakes and sip their wine! And, to make sport, I puff and snort: And out the candles I do blow: The maids I kiss, They shriek—Who's this? I answer nought but ho, ho, ho!

Yet now and then, the maids to please, At midnight I card up their wool; And, while they sleep and take their ease, With wheel to threads their flax I pull. I grind at mill Their malt up still; I dress their hemp; I spin their tow; If any wake, And would me take, I wend me, laughing, ho, ho, ho!

When any need to borrow aught, We lend them what they do require: And, for the use demand we nought; Our own is all we do desire. If to repay They do delay, Abroad amongst them then I go, And night by night, I them affright, With pinchings, dreams, and ho, ho, ho!

When lazy queans have nought to do, But study how to cog and lie: To make debate and mischief too, 'Twixt one another secretly: I mark their gloze, And it disclose To them whom they have wronged so: When I have done, I get me gone, And leave them scolding, ho, ho, ho!

When men do traps and engines set In loop-holes, where the vermin creep, Who from their folds and houses get Their ducks and geese, and lambs and sheep; I spy the gin, And enter in, And seem a vermin taken so; But when they there Approach me near, I leap out laughing, ho, ho, ho!

By wells and rills, in meadows green, We nightly dance our heyday guise; And to our fairy king and queen, We chant our moonlight minstrelsies. When larks 'gin sing, Away we fling; And babes new born steal as we go; And elf in bed We leave in stead, And wend us laughing, ho, ho, ho!

From hag-bred Merlin's time, have I Thus nightly revelled to and fro; And for my pranks men call me by The name of Robin Good-fellow. Fiends, ghosts, and sprites, Who haunt the nights, The hags and goblins do me know; And beldames old My feats have told, So vale, vale; ho, ho, ho!

[speakeasyaoi]

Rocky Rickaby x GN!Reader

> Requested by @d144-catzie | A bit shorter and messier than I'd like it to be, schoolwork got in the way :P

PROMPT: Rocky is in a close friendship with the reader that looks more like a couple at first, and has the beginning buds of a romantic relationship.

Rocky has a tendency to be extremely clingy and attached from the minute he meets you, especially so if he finds himself attracted and crushing on you. He ends up finding every excuse he can to spend some quality time with you, be it skipping out on work at his own expense and following you around at your heels like a stray pup, or dragging you along by your scruff on his chaotic escapades- He's constantly craving your presence, and he'll scrape together any opportunity he can to get it.

Rocky just adores both giving and recieving physical affection, and it's fit to make him burst with excitement nearly every time without fail. He tends to avoid things like chaste kisses and handholding in fear of seeming too forward, but he's more than open to ruffling your hair, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, patting your back or walking by your side with your elbows interlocked. Maybe he sneaks a hand on your waist or your hip as you're walking together, or hugs you for just a little longer than what might be considered platonic, but nothing too drastic. When he hugs you, he totally does the thing where he sways you side to side or lifts you up and spins you around.

He tries to talk you into getting some kind of matching article of clothing with him; matching neckties with your initials on them, matching bracelets he can wear under his sleeve or lapel pins he can wear alongside his Lackadaisy pin, he really isn't picky. Though, doesn't have the money to afford to buy you something of the quality he thinks you deserve, so it's probably going to be handmade. ...Or stolen. One of the two.

It's a fun pastime of his to tell you long, over-exagerrated stories of his life- including anything during his youth, adolescence, his time spent travelling around the states in search of work, and earlier years spent working for Lackadaisy with Zib's band. His storytelling skills are nothing short of grand and over-the-top, and he'd be ecstatic to ramble on to you over a shared platter of pancakes or a brisk walk through St. Louis if you'll let him. Fair warning, you're not going to be able to shut him up.

It's often he'll invite you over to Lackadaisy to watch him play his violin, and if not there, he just takes you to a nice, secluded area where he can show you without interruption. Most of what he plays is upbeat, spritely instrumentals or brief little tunes, but every once in a while he'll work up the confidence to sing you a ballad with vague lyrics that seem to apply to you a bit too well.

Similarly to how he calls Calvin Freckle, Ivy Miss Pepper, and Mitzi Miss M, he can't help but come up with a fun, sweet little nickname to call you, mainly serving to take the place of the more romantic terms of endearment he wishes he could call you without coming on too strong. But for now, what he's chosen works.

There's a 100% chance that Rocky's going to try and sweet-talk his way into staying with you in your home instead of continuing to live in his car. He'll beg and whine and plead and hug you tight once you finally give in, agreeing to crash on the living room couch. Though, if you aren't careful enough, he's probably going to end up sleeping in your bed one way or another. Oh well!

If you're able and willing, Rocky takes to teaching you how to play the violin. In all honesty, he makes a pretty shitty teacher, but he tries his damn hardest to help you with the very basics at the least. He also can't help but use it as an opportunity to be close with you, laying his hands over yours as he guides you into playing the right notes and holding the violin in the right position, peppering words of praise an encouragement all throughout.

Other notes: I struggled to keep this one not overly romantic, but still close and fluffy enough to stick to the prompt, this should be fine. I'm also probably going to keep to a range of 8-15 bulletpoints moving forward to speed up the time it takes to get to each post and keep me from burning myself out lol

#lackadaisy x reader #rocky rickaby x reader #lackadaisy #lackadaisy cats #lackadaisy comic #lackadaisy rocky #rocky rickaby #lackadaisy roark #roark rickaby #rocky rickaby x gn!reader #rocky rickaby x gn! reader #rocky rickaby x gn reader #lackadaisy x gn!reader #lackadaisy x gn! reader #lackadaisy x gn reader #gn!reader

[genshinresource]

Genshin Impact Character Sprites from “Ballads of Breeze” Event Menu Cleaned & Upscaled by asddzr on Bilibili

Download: Google Drive Source: Original post

#genshin impact #character artworks #event artworks #character sprites #PNGs #Albedo #Eula #Dvalin #Venti #Tighnari #Collei #Cullen-Anbar #Mondstadt

[shirokoi]

Just a compilation of all of Reinier's base sprites from Temptation's Ballad. Looking forward to writing more for this himbo pirate in future chapters~ uwu

Play Temptation's Ballad (Visual Novel) here: https://shirokoi.itch.io/temptations-ballad

#anthro #kemono #furry #shirokoi arts #gay furry #gay #bara furry #furry art #temptationsballadvn #temptation's ballad #orca

[beautifulpersonpeach]

This song is such a bop.

I get that Youjeen’s vocals can be polarizing, but you’ve got to admit she sounds incredible. She’s a legit legend in her own right. And Joon…

Joon has a type when it comes to female vocals in power ballad tracks like this.

Hear Younha’s belts in Winter Flower:

And Soyoon in Smoke Sprite:

—

Youjeen, Younha, Soyoon…

Joon has a type in female vocalists, and it shows his excellent taste. And that’s one of the things I love about him.

#random gush post #BTS #Namjoon #rm #Spotify #youjeen #younha #Soyoon #kpop #kpop music #BPP music posts

[princesscolumbia]

So about the musical episode...

This is specifically geared to "Subspace Rhapsody," which if you haven't watched it shame on you go now and watch go go go go!!!

So by the end of the ep everything goes back to normal and it turns out the real musical ensemble was the friends we made along the way etc., but what if it didn't?!

Yes, there'd be immediate consequences; highly classified secrets getting out, relationships starting and ending, etc.

But humans adapt, and since the other species in the galaxy are the same kind of "fuck you, I'm surviving!" results of evolution, they'd all adapt, too.

First off, the big one: It'd be like that post where somehow Anakin and Obi-wan can hear the musical score an realize Palpatine is a sith lord; the bad guys would be outed, like, the SECOND their musical number started up. Khan would have been identified before the Enterprise even finished scanning the Botony Bay, the Prime Directive would have to get a big 'ol asterisk pointing to a clause describing the specific mathematical properties of different types of music the crew can expect to hear when approaching a potential first contact. Science experiments would be (metaphorically) killed on the spot because the "mad scientist" theme would start playing.

But a century on? Well, everyone would have adapted...

The Vulcans would have come up with an entirely new discipline; Rhythmic Logic. Rather akin to rap, it'd be syncopated speaking with periodic inflections to denote emphasis on certain points, and the passive aggressive sass levels would be off the CHARTS. Counterintuitive to most Vulcan training for centuries, to properly learn and master this new discipline, the Vulcans would need to induce moments of high emotion to properly initiate the musical triggering conditions, but once started their logic and ability to freestyle would then be put to use to focus and direct the song.

Andorians would be less about the singing and more about choreography. Their troop movements would be works of martial art and their ability to synchronize with each other during operations (any operation, whether medical, business, black-ops, etc.) would be legendary throughout the galaxy. When xenoanthropologists start proposing theories, the truth is swiftly buried for the sanity of the galaxy; since the "musical universe" is based on human musicals, Andorian affinity for good choreography is rooted in figure skating.

Tellarites would unabashedly embrace Weird Al as a sort-of prophet/god once they figured out that parody is the sincerest form of insult. Whatever musical number you're performing, the Tellarites will ride on top of it and twist it in crass ways until the song they sing drowns out whatever they're parodying and is considered the superior work. This, amusingly, results in relations between Tellar and Earth to improve as "bards" of both races across every strata of society compete to see who can make the better parody.

Romulans would lean into the villain pieces, like, unironically. Go to a diplomatic party on Romulus and you're beset by a massive orchestral work of interweaving harmonies as a melody of every big number and quiet ballad are melded together in a symphony of intrigue, emotion, politics, and betrayal. Yes, there's good Romulans, but because their music is JUST as "villainous" as the heroes, it's nearly impossible to tell them apart. Somewhat ironically, it's That One Romulan who only sings spritely songs in a major key that turns out to be the baddest, most lethal Romulan of all.

Klingon society would fracture into new houses based on musical style. The "Old Guard" would be the Klingons who break out into Klingon Opera on the regular. K-pop would be known for being vicious berserkers. Shakespere may be beloved by the Klingons, but the Soviet Anthems would become THE way to unify the Klingons during the "cold war" era.

Once the effect stretched into the Delta Quadrant (nobody in the quadrant knows why they've suddenly started breaking into song, and it isn't until well after Voyager returns home that someone in a university history department is given access to the full history of the Borg's interaction with Starfleet that they realize that it was Q launching the Enterprise D into the Delta Quadrant that created the contact), the Hirogen would come to be known for their absolutely epic power-metal ballads. Their "hunting axes" would become some variety of electric guitar almost overnight.

Because Voyager's crew had grown up with the "random" musicals, Voyager has a leg up on the entire Delta Quadrant, further solidifying Janeway as an unmitigated badass when she uses her absolute mastery of the musical forms to kick ass in every genre.

Cultures that had been introduced to warp flight badly (turns out the Federation had the right idea with the Prime Directive, just not for reasons that anyone could have ever predicted) can always be identified as being...cut rate. It'd be like going from a Broadway Musical production of Hamilton to encountering that one "Christian" production where they butchered the lyrics and the "b-list" actors were the best they could get.

Cardasians would be all about the martial themes. Even their counterculture movements would be all about the percussion-heavy 4:4 musical numbers.

Bajorans would be split between Broadway Musical-style numbers that seem to take inspiration from plays like "West Side Story" and Epic Battle Hymns sung by every Bajoran involved in a given conflict that reach deep into your soul and make you feel simultaneously victorious and deeply sad for reasons you can't quite identify.

The Borg would be EDM for some reason. Nobody is quite sure why.

Even the species that sent the whale probe in the 23rd century wouldn't be spared. Dubstep...dubstep everywhere!

Section 31 and the Tal Shiar would be in a black-ops weapons race to see who can weaponize the musicals the most effectively.

Time travelers would have a blast. Turns out the big reason for the Temporal Cold War was to stop a massive Temporal Prime Directive violating wave of time tourists who just want to go back to a time before musicals were a fact of life. Mariner and Boimler wouldn't even realize they hadn't broken out into song once until they returned to the 24th century.

Humans would be driving everyone nuts. A species that had adapted to using Rent-style musical numbers to form social collectives that were so "in-crowd" that nobody else could even think of joining would suddenly find this one asshole human that picked up on it and was fitting in perfectly. Klingon slasher ballads would be met with children's cartoon bubbly pop music. Andorians would be simultaneously overjoyed at having companions that could work so perfectly with them and appalled that another species dared to get on the ice with them.

The only beings immune to the whole thing would be the Q. The reason Q was the one interacting with Picard? He's the only Q that can stand the whole universe turning into a musical! He's "the band nerd" in Q high school, the one that'll break into a situationally appropriate musical hit number from that one Broadway play when nobody wants to hear you singing Q! Q doesn't have to sing like the lesser species, but by golly he WANTS to and he's GONNA!

#star trek #star trek voyager #star trek prodigy #star trek lower decks #star trek picard #star trek tos #star trek tng #star trek ds9 #star trek strange new worlds #subspace rhapsody

[yourmilwaukeebeers]

suika game BTS

i'm just gonna dump a bunch of stuff here take it or leave it all song sprites:

dave & joe play "turn it off" from book of mormon

craig's gang plays "let's fighting love" from south park

oscars m&t play "put it down" from south park

coop & remer play "montage" from team america world police

concert m&t play "the ballad of lemmiwinks" from south park

2000s m&t play "hello!" from book of mormon

the main 4 play "blame canada" from south park: bigger longer & uncut

packer & humphrey play "shpadoinkle" from cannibal the musical

small ike here is your cursor

here's every fruit from largest to smallest so look away if you don't want to know what picture is the suika:

and i didn't take many photos of it in the process but this is essentially what the game looked like while working on purely functionality:

this was soooo much fun though and i keep playing my own game amazed that it even though it's very janky, it. kinda works. which is hysterical because even though i made suika i am NOT GOOD at it, and my computer is still stuck together with a couple pieces of tape and charging 100% of the time i use it. i haven't made a watermelon, so good luck to you if you manage it lol. either way, have fun and enjoy! here's my high score!

trust that my next advent day will not be this cool........ UNLESS?

#matt and trey #matt & trey #matt stone #trey parker #baseketball #mattrey #coop and remer #south park #orgazmo #cannibal the musical #suika game

[voltageapps]

Playing Love 365, Ayakashi: Romance Reborn, Court of Darkness, Princess in the Mirror, Samurai Love Ballad: PARTY, even if TEMPEST, Lovestruck, and many other Voltage Inc. games or just enjoy playing otome games in general?

Click link below:

Discover some perks unique to our server!

Contest and giveaways (free nitro, Love 365 coin stories, cute custom roles, etc.)

Events (game and movie nights, game streams, story exchange gifts, etc.)

Archived Voltage Inc. assets in their highest quality (BGMs, CGs, sprites, voice dramas, special videos, etc.)

Aesthetic and fun emotes + stickers

Our very own Otome Bot! We started off as a multi-purpose wiki bot with trivia & tropes for our husbandos but upgraded with more productivity and fun features to try out! You can invite this bot for your otome servers!

We are also looking for wiki editors to help us building a private fan wiki for Voltage Inc. since the Fandom Wiki is deprecated. Please help us if you really love Voltage Inc. and want them to get more recognized in the otome fandom!

#voltageinc #voltage inc #voltage otome #otome romance #otome #otome game #love 365 #ayakashi romance reborn #samurai love ballad party #court of darkness #princess in the mirror #lovestruck voltage #liar uncover the truth #even if tempest #anidol colors #bakumatsu revolution #love scramble

[kheprriverse]

Time's ref is done!

Also decided to give a cleaner look at their sword and it's sheathe. Especially since the only time I drew the sheathe was in this post and it was a rather quick and mindless doodle.

ANYWAYS— I’ll probs end up adding more eventually, I always end up adding more. I have other versions of them on the way :>

#legend of zelda #loz #ocarina of time #majora's mask #loz au #legend of zelda au #Link (oot/mm) #Ballad/Sprite #Kheprriverse #my art #hoping this ref covers everything or mostly everything #but if it doesnt then feel free to ask :)! #If you know the full image then you know #biggoron sword stands for ‘big fuck off sword’ #Time told me themself #Kheprriart

[m1d-45]

I feel like we don’t get enough Venti action… time to change that! If you’re able to how about a small scenario of Venti finding the creator by following some wind sprites he sees? I personally believe that there are more wind sprites other than venti just imagine little fairies hovering around so cute 🥺

I LOVE YOU BTW!

venti has felt a shift in the world for a while now. the winds carry the memory of something sweet, the air tinged with familiarity. he tries, sometimes, to follow it, but he can never find out where they originate.

he’s playing in windrise, sitting amongst the branches and gently strumming his lyre. there’s a soft breeze, as there always is, lightly rustling the leaves. it’s calm, quiet. peaceful.

something soft bumps against his hand with a small squeak, and he stops, opening his eyes. a wind spirit, no larger than his palm, seemingly coaxing him to stand with urgency.

‘what is it?’ he wants to ask, though he knows it wouldn’t respond. he dismisses his lyre, descending from the tree smoothly with the assistance of anemo. his cape flutters, the feathers on his faux vision swaying as he lands.

the small spirit leads him, and he follows. the wind spurs him quicker, leading him along with the growing sense of a memory he can’t place. he walks in a rush, anticipation building with every turn the wisp takes him down.

eventually, he makes it. the wisp dives through a curtain of branches and he pushes through, brushing dirt off of him as he looks around the clearing he’s in. the trees part just right, allowing plenty of light to come in, dandelions and other wildflowers growing all around. and there, in the center, is you.

you lift a hand to greet the wisp, smiling. it presses into your palm, the many others floating around you chirping in what he could only assume is something like jealousy.

you laugh, and finally turn to face him. he’s starstruck, for lack of a better word, frozen in place with awe.

you’re here. you’re finally here. after years and years of waiting, of a desperate sort of yearning, after years of ballads sung in your name and prayers for your return… his god is here.

you move your arm back, beckoning him into a hug, and he rushes forward to take it.

#m1d : [chats] #m1d : [secrets] #venti on the brain once again #auguegaueheh me when anemo men i’m #unwell unwell unwell unwell #i do be simpin #fr fr

[aprisolis]

˓⠀⠀﹪ :⠀⠀٬⠀⠀ALLISON NAM.⠀⠀⸻⠀⠀is a fictional former soloist under APRICUS CULTURE. allison initially debuted as a member of first generation girl group, KICLIQ, which debuted on may 21, 1998. the group consisted of three members: REUMI, U-JI, and allison under the stage name AREE. the group debuted to moderate success though the group's visual, reumi, would capture domestic attention for her appearances in a string of commercials for sprite in early 2001.

following their newfound success, the group would unfortunately enter a period of continuous scandal and allegations of chart manipulation. the group would go on to experience an additional level of outrage after inappropriate photos were leaked of u-ji and a member of a boy group under the same label. just a few days later, allison would be seen meeting with apricus culture ceo, JEONG KARIN, in a move that bewildered supporters of the quiet youngest member. before kicliq's label could respond to the development, apricus would buy out allison's contract with the company, making headlines across entertainment news.

though her preparations under her new company were kept relatively secret, allison took an active role chatting with fans on social media forums, keeping them encouraged that she would eventually return with new music. allison would eventually debut under her birth name as a soloist under apricus culture with the single, 10 MINUTES on august 22, 2003. she debuted with massive success, immediately garnering a loyal fanbase that would keep her in constant conversation as a powerhouse act for the next 15 years.

being no stranger to shock, allison would continue to make surprise announcement throughout her career. most notably, allison would announce her marriage to BYEON JAEJIN, then manager of girl group I2D (currently the manager of LETALIS) alongside her renewal of her contract in 2010. after renewing her contract in 2013, she would announce the birth of her first child. finally, with the announcement of her retirement from solo activities in 2018, allison would announce her new role within the company as the newly appointed ceo following karin's stepping down from the role to focus on her health earlier that year.

currently, allison is still the company's acting ceo while karin remains a member of the board as the chairwoman and founder. under allison's direction, apricus culture has continued to rise in public reputation through its revitalized training regimen. although the whispers of nepotism continue to rumble under the surface, the company is revered for its crisis handling and superior debuted talent.

&.&.    SECTION  ONE ,      the basics

STAGE NAME: allison nam (previously aree)

LABEL: mazic ent. (1998 - 2002), apricus culture (2003 - 2018)

DEBUT DATE: august 22, 2003

DEBUT SINGLE: 10 minutes

DEBUT ALBUM: alltyme

GENRE: pop, ballad, dance-pop

FANDOM NAME: everytime

MOST POPULAR SONGS: u-go girl!, beauty queen, fxxk, marry, kill

FACECLAIM: ko soyoung

#&.& 𓆩*𓆪 FILE SOURCE ˒ STAFF DIRECTORY. #&.& 𓆩*𓆪 FILE SOURCE ˒ ARTIST DIRECTORY. #fictional idol community #fictional kpop idol #fictional idol company #fictional kpop company #fictional idol group #fictional kpop community #fictional idol oc #idol oc #idol!fic #fake kpop idol #fake kpop group #fake kpop oc #fake kpop girl group #fake kpop addition #kpop idol #idol #kpop oc

[elegantduelliste]

Epistles of Saints & Sinners

Chapter Summary:

Tav asks Astarion to participate in a game of her choosing.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Story Summary:

When Astarion meets the humble bard, Tav, he soon finds out he's the only one between them that knows they are bound as soulmates through their marks. Deciding it's more trouble than its worth, he refuses to tell her along the course of their journey across Faerûn.

But, unbeknownst to him and their companions, Tav is harboring a gruesome secret that she only thought was nothing more than a traumatized period in her life.

As they both come to face to face with their pasts and presents, will they choose to move forward or let it consume them?

Healing isn’t linear—after all.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Chapter 8: Questions & Commands

Ao3

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Main Page & Chapter List

Word Count: 6.2k

Pairing: Astarion x female bard Tav

CW: Emotional Abuse, Sexual Language, Sexual Tension, Act 1 Spoilers

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Ballads hatched into our world long ago to inspire, heal, and defeat foes. Thus, bards did learn the ways of the song to carry them through lands known and forgotten. Carrying tunes to foster in the ebb of war and love. We can bring light even to the darkest side of the moon.

— Alfira, ‘A Look into the Life of Bards’

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Once upon a time, there was a wedding. Two lovers. The joining of the year.

Held in a beautiful cathedral of worship to Lathander, where not even the minions of arch devils would bring their contracts. The brilliance of its holy requite through colorful stained glass, to shine upon newlyweds for an age.

Algos stood by the husband-to-be as a groomsman. Dark hair. Confident face. Dressed in shining gold and midnight. The shades of splendor and authority.

A swordswoman, beautiful and anxious about the night, at a table of unknowns. Dress of woven pastel blue and gold forget-me-nots.

“My lady, will you dance with me?” Algos grinned, holding out his hand.

“I would be honored, my love!” A guarded smile from her lips. “How is the wedding party going?”

The man took her hand and spun her onto the dancefloor. “Not so bad. Little trouble with the behind-the-scenes, but everything worked out. How’s the table you were seated at?”

Her hands crawled up onto the expanse of his shoulders. The tempo of the current ballad played by the wedding band, a slow romantic fairy-tale of a tune.

“They sat me with the elusive cousins,” she giggled. “However, I’m not complaining. They are a delight! I wish I could sit with my handsome beau, but I love you regardless.”

Algos nuzzled the side of her head. “I love you too, Birdie.”

Their peace—broken by spritely music blaring from quickened strings, requiring a more rhythmic dance.

“Here, do it like this,” Algos pressured, grabbing one of her hands in his, the other, at her waist.

Her face flushed. Clumsy feet. Self consciousness seeped in. She tried to hold herself together, praying that he would ignore her flaws in this art of movement. “I don’t want to dance like this…no, I didn’t mean it like that—I’m just feeling shy.”

There. In his vision. The glaze she had been preparing for all week in caution. Knowing it could happen at any time if the circumstances were right. Another night she could have predicted with cartomancy from any deck of illustrated cards.

How could irises the color of pitch basalt she let erode her soul with love have such rage?

“We’re leaving.”

Ruffled. A shaking of hands to the guests of the wedding in pleasant goodbyes.

A face twisted. Heavy feet walking out of the venue, beer on his tongue.

Soft pattering taps of her shoes, following him to his hell. Biting the inside of her cheek, head bowed in shame.

Away from everyone—he yelled. No one can intervene; no one can see.

“SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH YOU! Broken. Is it really that hard to do what you're told?! You don’t know how to love. I refuse to believe you even care about me.”

She stared ahead. It was safer this way. Not to fully look at him. Tears fall: salty and broken. She messed up again. Will she ever get it right?

“I’m sorry about feeling awkward about dancing. Please let me expl—,” she begged.

“EXPLAIN WHAT?! This gloom that you carry with you is an embarrassment! Did you even stop to think how that will make me look?! How it makes me look now?! I can’t help but think that you’ve done this on purpose—to foil my reputation.”

“But, I—you said…I do love you—,” she stuttered out.

“QUIET!”

Usual tangents.

Embarrassing. Is that what she was?

Should she mention her concerns to him again about his anger? The outbursts that have scared her? The insecurity she felt. The nervousness. The eggshells she walked upon. The doubts she felt about a future with him.

She’s already endured 8 years. She could endure more.

In the middle of the night, the yelling paused.

A smothering of tears, so she can open her wept swollen eyes the next day.

Into her mind fortress created long ago, she receded—sewing pockets into its walls. Wailing the incident into the opening of one, before threading the seam fully closed and purging herself of the emotions.

In the morning, Algos held Tav tightly. Apologies to her lips. Apologies in her hair. “This is a part of who I am,” he reminded her.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

♫Dance upon the stars tonight, Smile and pain will fade away. Words of mine will turn to ash, When you call the last light down.

Moon reminds me of your grace, All the love I can’t repay. Rest and know that I will pray, Farewell my dear old friend.

Moon, sun, all remind me of your grace, Faith, care, all the love I can’t repay. Moon, sun, all remind me of your grace, Faith, care, all the love I can’t repay.

Dance upon the stars tonight, Smile and pain will fade away. Words of mine will turn to ash, When you call the last light down.

Moon reminds me of your grace, All the love I can’t repay. Rest and know that I will pray, Farewell my dear old friend.

Dance upon the stars tonight, Smile and pain will fade away.♫

Tav and Alfira. Lutes in hands. An ideal pair for a quaint harmony. They braided around their audience, draping a veil of honor and expelling the spirits of woe. A duet of two bards: an elf and a tiefling. Voices of mirth to rock babes to sleep and inspire fractured favorable qualities to mend.

With boots padded in unison on a final tour around the camp, they meet in the middle to sing their closing lyrics, paying reverence to an old friend.

Flowers and cheers freely tossed to the musicians as they take their bows. A few mesmerized souls with amour’s arrows in their eyes, headily sighed. Gleefully, the women hugged each other.

“Tav, I couldn’t have done this without you. Thank you for all your help with the song. I feel like I can finally honor my teacher properly now.” Alfira held onto Tav for a few seconds longer before holding her at arm’s length with tears in her eyes.

“It’s the least I could do after you loaned me your extra lute.” Tav went in for another hug, patting the optimistic tiefling on the back. “Seeing mine broken to pieces on that beach was not the most pleasant of sights. It was a gift to me from my mother. One of the first lutes I’ve ever owned. Many memories were attached to it. Happy and sad. A chapter I will have to close—I suppose.”

Alfira clasped the elf’s hands within her own, as if they were about to pray together. “Chapters that close for bards, eventually become tales in our songs. Perhaps one day, you will be able to tell yours when the time is right.”

Tav softened her features, a fair simper stretching upwards. “Just so. I cannot properly explain how wonderful this has been, playing with another bard again. I haven’t done so in over a year, since I left the Dales. My gods! Collaborating with another musically inclined person is such an adrenaline rush!”

“I know exactly what you mean! I’ve been trying to teach the children how incredible playing music can be, but they seem preoccupied with their little thieves club at the moment.” She swung her lute around its strap to rest upon her back. “If it is alright, I may go have a drink with Lakrissa. To wind down, that is!”

The songbird curtsied, offering Alfira a good-natured bow of her head. “Off with you! Go have fun! I’ll be joining the party shortly.”

Lungs all but expired, Tav swept the blue-gray mist of her sight around the soirée that Zevlor, leader of the tiefling refugees, insisted they participate in after their defeat with the goblins. She wasn’t entirely opposed to mingling with their new allies, but given the events of the past couple of days—all the social interaction and glories of their victory—she needed to find time to replenish her energy.

Though, such proclivities to her personal edicts would have to wait. Because there were wayward missives being delivered into her thoughts, bathed in the scent of rosemary, bergamot, and aged brandy—like a secret admirer on the cusp of developing into something more.

With the wildflowers thrown at her feet during her curtain call, she tucked a small handful into her garter, briefly wondering if Astarion had watched her performance with Alfira. Did he like the song? What were his thoughts about the lyrics? Or did he notice the fingerpicking during the chorus she had practiced beforehand?

To him she gives herself in offering. The snares of his raucous life. She humbly prays to the host of his body to thrust her into his soul. Ruin her world and all that remains. Amen.

In fact, she pondered if he even liked her at all or if he was merely tolerating her. He never made mention of finding any part of her personality particularly endearing to be around, instead resorting to backhanded comments at his leisure. At times, it seemed only the blood she willingly offered to him thrilled any sense he had concerning the bard.

Oghma’s taint—why did she fucking care?! Astarion could be an absolutely insufferable knave. Wroughting seeds of his own subterfuge and cruelty when she thought he was beginning to show moments of clemency or kindness.

When they found the prisons shortly after their intentional bloodshed with the goblinoids, she squabbled with him over his insistence on urging her to commend those shite goblin children for throwing rocks at the druid Halsin’s bear form because he wanted to “see the show.”

After she denied the lashings from Abdirak, a servant of the goddess Loviatar, he slighted her with his typical lively taunt.

”Something that has more drollness than all these wretched creatures sputtering on about this True Soul nonsense, and you just ‘pass on it’? I truly thought you would have provided us with a more inspiring performance other than that singing you do all the time,” Astarion had provoked with a dramatic tilt of his voice.

Tav chuckled critically as she walked up to the vampire, standing chest to chest with her chin pointed upwards. She had zero tolerance for the knife of his words at the moment. “I didn’t hear you complaining when you told me to sing for you in your tent the other night. Besides, why would I subject my body to public humiliation? This isn’t just a bedroom kink—for god's sake!”

“My sweet ballad babe, anger really does look cute on you.” His fingers moved to fix the length of her skewed bangs, picking up tiny bouquets of her strands individually. “You speak as if your body is a temple that lovers will continue to care about during and after your moments of ecstasy. What a very naive statement.”

”You’re right. I can’t control whether they care about me or not. But, what I can control is who has access to me when it comes to consensual sex and what my own feelings are towards that person.” The bard's tone changed from thorny indignation, to a lower frequency of velvet. Her heated palm wrapped around his icy wrist, bringing it to rest against the upper portion of her chest. “And so we’re both clear—I have never engaged in any type of intimacy with a man I didn’t care about in some way. That includes you.”

After Tav’s earnest reply, Astarion stood skulking for nearly the rest of their mission, staring at her from afar. Petulance? That was probably part of it. A crucifixion he was reliving by instinct behind the splendor of his newly formed kingdom of freedom.

Curious, curious, curious though.

As Tav presented him with challenges to his unethical morals over his comments or suggestions flung from the pantheon of his pearlescent lips, he never acted on them by his own accord. Nor did he bring up such interjections again, naturally acquiescing quietly to the majority vote. His unfavorable characteristics unveiled as the days passed—testing them. Testing her.

Why all this senselessness? Fear? Anger? Did he truly possess that level of evilness deep down? Or was the sun inside of him blocked by hundreds of black-eyed fiends biting at his extremities each time he reached out to try and absorb the light?

The elements in the tapestry of him that flickered of haunted briars regarded in his gaze, she would, at times, be able to minimally trim away to witness a few ticks of goodness bubbling up out of his blighted soul. But, Astarion was at the mercy of his ghosts and Tav understood all too easily that sometimes the victim can have remorseless tendencies from a vicious cycle of learned behavior.

”A gentle hand.” But, what else would it take?

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

The sky was empty, save for the lowly honied crescent moon.

Tav carouseled around the gathering, checking in with the guests and her companions. Sips of wine flowing between buzzed lips, sweetening tongues with compulsions of truths and flirtatious verses. The bard gathered her skirts—in her silence and finesse of movements—flashing propositioning suitors a modest smile of rejection as they sacrificed themselves to her in promises of alighting her skin to cinders with their touch.

Oh, but, it wasn’t their balm she desired as their eyes begged her to drop her silken stockings down, a fantasy of rubbing them between their fingertips as they pecked her calves. It was the chilled path of ashes leading to the thief in the night of the man whose lips felt like years of devotion and stole her sanity during her prayers.

Astarion remained by his tent for a good portion of the evening, throwing his daggers into the practice dummy nearby, impressing the tieflings as they clapped for him. Tav surveyed him with a glance every so often, catching him using his normal grand hand gestures as he spoke. Once, when she looked over towards where he stood, a tiefling man had placed a hand on the vampire’s arm, dragging a finger sensuously up and down his sleeve. Astarion patted the man’s hand and nudged his chin in her direction, softening his stare. Her face heated up as she turned away, unsure of what the spawn had said to him.

There was warmth that had long spread throughout Tav’s body and her mind was drumming in happiness from the mead. She could not stop the rush she felt to see Astarion, armed as she was with a plan to unfurl some of their vexations and inner turmoils that teetered on the ridge they kept stepping onto. Half crossed with his behavior. Half wanting this man in her company.

Mirror in hand, she found him.

Astarion’s temporary quarters were the furthest away, set up near the opening to the forest behind them. An intentional tact to listen for enemies or animals scurrying about he told her. A prelude to feed on their blood.

He held up an ornate hand mirror in silver filigree to his face, half of the glass cracked. He opened and closed his mouth several times, then stuck his index finger to pull back his cheek. One of his fangs, a white icy pick glistening from a lit torch in the camp, peeked out. She knew he was admiring absolutely nothing at all—since vampires no longer had a reflection once they became undead—still, she wondered if he knew what he looked like anymore.

“Are yo—,“ she interrupted as a person suddenly appeared in front of her.

“Would you care to dance, my lady?”

Astarion caustically clucked his tongue.

Guex. The tiefling with swept back blonde hair and strawberry skin. A warrior that Tav had met earlier in the Hollow of the grove. Swords collided in the bright sun as she showed him how to properly strike his blade at a target during midday.

Willing her body not to freeze from a painful memory, she put on a prepared face. She beamed as he bowed, balling her hand up near her mouth joyfully. “Guex! No need for the formalities. But, I am afraid, I am not one for dancing.”

He cleared his throat nervously. “Ah, that is perfectly okay my—I mean, Tav. How about a walk, then? Just to chat!”

How adorable. She casted him a slight gleam, sympathizing with the attraction he held for her. “You are so very sweet, but I have plans for the night with my friend Astarion here. If you find me again in Baldur’s Gate, maybe I will be able to turn in my raincheck to you—depending on the circumstances, of course.”

She could see the pale elf raise his eyebrows as he continued preening in the mirror at his non reflective self.

Guex peered over his shoulder at the spawn before quickly turning back to face Tav. “Oh! Um, yes that would be more than fine! Uuuhh, thank you for your consideration! And thank you again for earlier. Have a good evening,” he replied in haste before escaping to rejoin the party.

Astarion threw the mirror to the ground with a melodramatic sneer. “All I wanted was to have a little fun tonight. But, here you are bringing the lambs to gander. Your admirers follow you everywhere, don’t they? Like lost mice begging for crumbs.”

“Except, I have no crumbs to give. Here.” She bent down to retrieve the hand mirror, handing it to him. “Why were you looking at this?”

He grabbed the object from her sighing. “Fruitlessly trying to will the damned thing to show my reflection, I suppose. I still enjoy petty vanity—at least what I’m able to do with it. You know, I have no idea what I look like anymore. Not since I grew fangs and my eyes turned red.”

“What color were they before?”

“I—I don’t remember. My face is nothing but a hazy indistinct shape in my memory now.” A grimness entered his gaze as he tossed the mirror into his tent heatedly. “Another wonderful part of me Cazador took!’

Tav moved in closer to him, resting her hands on either side of her hips. She balanced on her tiptoes at different angles, examining his face. “I could imagine you with bluish golden eyes, akin to the sunset on a clear day, right when one star pops out—to match your porcelain coif!”

The corner of the vampire’s mouth rose waggishly. He spun around once, modeling himself. “Oh? Don’t stop there. What else do you see? I want to know how others view me.”

Brimming with a million words to describe Astarion flooded her thoughts alongside the blush that greeted the tips of her ears. His gorgeousness dangled in front of her waking hours and inspired rhymes to dominate the prose that fought to be in her head. He could order her to adorn him in robes of the sanctimony, sitting her upon his lap while thumbing a wafer of his personal Eucharist into her mouth, and she would accept with it opened wide.

Heavens grant peace upon her for seeking his validation in the moment.

The songstress’s chin scrunched up in concentration. “Your smile. It’s bright like the full moon’s glow kissing the surface of water.”

The pallored elf sighed in annoyance. “This is supposed to be flattery, my dear. If I wanted bad poetry, I’d ask Gale to recite some to me from his questionable scripts. Try again.”

Tav chuckled. She loved the raillery they so easily fell into with each other. There was a nod towards his hands as she spoke again. “Your hands. Strong. Dexterous. But, your touch is possibly one of the most tender I’ve ever known.”

“I’m starting to wonder why I even bothered to ask,” he muttered under his breath. “Fine. What about the whole of my face?”

“High cheekbones. A pointed angular jaw. Straight nose. Features that any sculpture would be counted blessed by the deities to exhibit to the world.”

He blinked a few times with a low hum in his voice. “That’s a bit better I suppose. Do you think I’m beautiful? Answer yes and we’ll call it a day.”

Tav clasped her hands behind her back, walking around him once as if she were assessing the presentation of his appearance.

“You certainly don’t have Lae’zel’s appeal, but you do well enough, I guess,” she teased with a large grin.

Faking disgruntlement, Astarion lazily put his hand across the expanse of his chest. “You guess? How dare you. And here I thought we had something special. Though, you look alright too—I guess.”

They both burst into stitches of friendly chuckles, much like the time under the willow tree and the first night they kissed.

Hearts—beating and dead—danced the slow drag to an unheard sway of blues. A twinkle of time for the bard to act, emboldened by the alcohol in her stomach and the sacred affections she held for Astarion. She nimbly latched onto his forearm with both hands and pulled him down with her into the plush pillows carefully arranged in front of his tent, giggling playfully.

Landing on top of her in surprise, she watched as he tried to balance himself on his elbows, hovering above her sternum. His face was so dangerously close to hers, the delicate blend of blood and milky mint off his palate reached her nose. She was grateful most of the guests had dispersed for the night, finding themselves unvirtuous in the throes of passion with a stranger or asleep from the drink. Pinned under him, the anchored weight of his body’s lower portion was distributed to his legs, with one artfully shoved between her skirted thighs.

“Yes, of course, take a seat,” he rumbled sarcastically, inches from the brûlée of her lips.

“It’s more comfortable down here,” the bard bashfully smiled, her slender finger now twirling the lacings of his shirt flirtatiously. “Play a game with me?”

“Well, isn’t this unusual? I would have never thought you could be so forward given your coy nature.” Astarion fiddled with the ruffling along the edged collar line of her chemise, pulling the fabric down enough to uncover her left shoulder. “But, isn’t that what we’re doing right now? Playing a game. Our roles reversed. You: performing as the alluring soubrette. Me: as the enamored.”

“Hmm. I suppose, but I did actually have another one in mind,” she sighed faintly while he rubbed circles into the tattooed portion of her upper arm.

The spawn cocked a peculiar brow. She felt him adjust himself so that one of his arms was able to move around freely. Snaking a hand to slide up the side of her clothed thigh, inching a bit of the fabric upwards, he whispered at the corner of her mouth. “Mmm. You wish to play it right here?”

“Right here,” she consented quietly, feeling her head slightly buzzed from the mead. A rush of heat hit her core and she shivered, causing her to involuntarily roll her hips. Her leg, still caught between his, rubbed into his pelvis forcing Astarion to groan.

One, two, three, four. Four faded outlines of beauty marks she counted on his cheek. If she connected them, they would resemble a lesser cluster of stars. Ones that she would wish upon to guide her through the glass halls she wandered during their interactions.

Spindly fingers spidered their way to her lower stomach, tracing the waistband of her skirts. His finger slid under the band just enough to tease the hem of her smalls resting on her mound, only to pull back when she whimpered for him. “And what’s my reward if I win?”

The entirety of her body felt inflamed, only to be cooled down with a sudden whisk of careful hands tingling patches on her ivory skin. Her plump lips, filled with a rush of sanguine fluid, tapped adoring kisses into his temple. “That’s yet to be determined.”

Teeth scraped down her cheek onto the side of her satiny neck. He released a huff of his breath that sent a lustful chill down her spine as he pointed the tip of his fang on the unhealed mark from his previous feeding. “What’s it called?”

Tav could feel his semi erect length—heavy and throbbing through his trousers—sending pleasant waves of moisture in places she wanted him to touch. She shamefully imagined how beautiful his cock must be, especially after he’d drank blood. Engorged and leaking, waiting for it to be taken out to admire.

With a mere purse of her lips near the shell of his ear, she purred. “Questions and Commands.”

“Excuse me?” He pulled back instantly in puzzlement, steadying himself over her once more.

“Questions and Commands. You said you wanted to have a little fun,” she repeated.

“That fluff of a children’s game is not exactly what I had in mind. Saving all of those ram horned hellions has made me feel awful! I am not interested in getting caught up in frivolous chit-chat, no matter how much I may enjoy your charms.” He dipped his head down to position an open mouthed peck in the region above the start of her breast tissue. “Now, where were we?”

She wriggled her arms from the confined space to place them on his shoulders, attempting to distract him. As much as she desired another physically intimate night with him, she needed to execute her plan. If they continued to carry on in the same way they had been, the pleasure may not be worth the pain that would come later. The demons inside both of them would only serve to take prisoners to their cage of hellish rebuke.

“Astarion!” Laughter spooled from Tav as his eyelashes tickled her clavicle. “You damned scoundrel—would you stop for a moment?! Are you certain about not playing? Because I’m fairly confident we could make it interesting.”

“My sweet, the only thing on my mind is depraved carnal lust with a very specific songbird,” he murmured into the hollow of her breastbone. “I’ve been thinking about this for quite a while.”

It was becoming difficult for the womanly elf to concentrate. With every precise caress from him, any logical reasoning she held was becoming diluted with his sinuous friction against her. She wanted him in ways she hadn’t predicted tonight.

Tav ran her fingers through his curls, gifting her with a vibrating moan from him. “You are going to ruin every bit of me—as I’m sure you intended to do.” She tugged on his head, urging him to look at her while her bottom lip pushed out in a pout. “Please. Just this once? I want to—I would like to get to know you better and at least this is a more noncommittal way to do so.”

Astarion’s pupils widened. A vague mosaic of feelings seemed to usurp themselves from the nailed coffin of his lost spirit. Distrust? Anxiety? A hint of confusion and fragility. Perhaps even a longing of forspoken broken dreams for connection. Could they tie a binding string of cat’s cradle around their fingers to strengthen their bond or would the three Fates snip them apart never to be bound in life?

Astarion, full of haunts. Protection is with thee. Blessed is your face in the sun, And compassion given to you from the shadows. Holy is your kiss, Granted to lovers old and new. At your undead hour and here ever after, May you eventually find peace

He audibly sighed.

“Ugh. Fineeee, you wretched creature! Since you seem so insistent on it.” The vamp halted the ministry of his cool lips on her flesh, lifting himself all the way up to kneel in front of her. He reached down to cup the front of his trousers to add comfort to the visible straining hardness. “Though, if you ask me about my favorite color, I’m never speaking to you again. Lady’s first.”

Tav sat up, patting her clothes down to soothe out the wrinkles. Pointing a finger into the air, she counted off. “Before I choose, let’s set up a few ground rules. One: You don’t have to answer anything you’re really uncomfortable with. Two: Same rule applies for the command. Three: Have a good time! Now for my first pick…”

Embers from the local campfire glowed feebly as they continued their game, setting the mood for Astarion to light a couple of his fancy candelabras. A wine bottle, stolen from Wyll’s stash during one of Tav’s command turns, sat betwixt the two companions. Smudged lightly with her lipstick on the rim, they passed it to each other’s mouths while exchanging inviting glances. Willowy digits often skimmed hers, as if he were reaching out from the shadows to capture the dust in the sunlight.

“I still cannot believe I saw Shadowheart and Wyll with their tongues in each other's mouths,” the bard shook her head merrily. “However, I did hear him laying it on thick with his lines earlier. I wonder which one finally caught her attention?”

Astarion smirked mischievously. “My word. I guess our little enigma wanted to see his ‘Blade of Avernus’ after all.”

Arabellan Dry deposited on her tongue as she relieved the bottle of another swig. She had been sedulous in maintaining a misty buzz, sipping mouthfuls of water from her waterskin after imbibing the wine.

During their exchanges, Tav learned Astarion’s favorite pickup lines, giving her quite the amused blush when he tried all of them on her. She responded by telling him that his silliness was one of his personality traits she liked the most.

With a touch of sorrow, a quirk of a side smile twitched on his pasty jaw. Audiences would hunger for that very expression watching the lead actor on stage. Making them gasp as a dagger was held at his throat proclaiming his faults in one act, then wooing them with convictions to stay in existence in the next.

Had anyone ever paid this man a genuine compliment that detracted from his handsomeness before?

She commanded him to play with Scratch by throwing his ball several times—to his extravagant disdain.

”See, that wasn’t so bad? And he thanked you with a kiss.” Tav smiled happily when Astarion sat back down.

”’Wasn’t so bad?’ He slobbered all over my hands and gods know what vile things he’s had in his mouth recently,” he remarked in contempt.

“But, you’ve now made a long-lasting AND loyal friend.”

Astarion didn’t reply, but she witnessed him look over at the dog in confusion as if he couldn’t comprehend entirely what she had said.

He questioned why she made it a point to tell Guex she didn’t enjoy dancing instead of only refusing him, which she politely declined to answer.

“Not every bard has to dance to music,” she awkwardly laughed.

“No, but you choose not to for other reasons; not because you dislike it. Why?”

He stared through her. She blinked away bleary tears filling her ducts. It was the first time Astarion had decided to intentionally ask something so viscerally raw about her and she couldn’t even give herself permission to answer fully.

Tav looked at him in shame, her voice wavering. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I’m ready yet. Can we move on?”

Later on, she commanded him to show her some sewing techniques and why he enjoyed them. ”No matter how many times you mess up with the thread, you can easily pull it out and restart again,” he told her in no uncertain terms.

Eventually, the commands stopped, leaving way for only questions. Ones that left the deepest rings of sound resonating within, like church bells calling them to worship these parts of each other. Clutching for the other’s breath, practiced and alive.

“Question.”

Tav sat up straight, excited to ask her next inquiry. “Name one of your favorite lines in poetry or a ballad. I may have snooped and seen you carrying around a copy of ‘Lord Dandelion’s Sonnets’ with you.”

Astarion puffed out a breath, then hummed in concentration.

“Wings unpinned within a cage, I see the gold in the sky over yonder, The stars, a poor imitation of the ball of flame.

Restless, I wait, feathers outstretched, The only sound being the clouds overflowed, Across the tides of the wind…”

“Now freed, I stay grounded, afraid of the dawn’s break.” They finished reciting together.

“I shouldn’t be surprised that you know of his poetry, but for some reason, I am a bit astonished that you know of his less popular works,” he commented in surprise.

“Those works are some of his most influential. They deal with the complex emotions inside all of us.”

He snuck a drink from the wine before passing it to her, as if he were trying to swallow down sudden ideas he hadn’t thought of in two centuries.

“Your turn,” he reminded her.

“Hmm. Question.”

As the night became quieter, the two had comfortably scooted closer together. They faced one another, Tav with her legs resting lazily between Astarion’s widely spread ones, still with the wine bottle acting as a barrier amidst them.

“What do you keep under your skirts? Aside from that lovely hosiery nestled against your pale legs.” He reached out to drag the palm of his hand up and down her lower shin. Ah, so he had been watching her earlier during her performance.

A fake gasp escaped as she lifted her skirts high enough to show him the knife in her garter.

“The femme fatale. Not what I was expecting. And what of the other side?” The vampire pressed in a low gravel.

The other side of her skirts gradually lifted to reveal the flowers in her other leather garter. Tugging one out, she leaned forward to place it into one of the eyelets on the front of his shirt. It was a dainty bit of a bloom. White. Four petals surrounding yellow stamens.

“Flowers? I find them to be gaudy trite instruments for the living.”

"They happen to smell nice,” Tav remarked. “And…they have a language of their own.”

He gazed down at the flimsy growth she had fixed on his clothes in disbelief. “A language? Well, enlighten me. What is this flower trying to say?”

The bard put her index finger up to her lips. “Shh. It doesn’t speak now, but you will find out later. That being said, I have one final question I’d like to ask you.”

“I believe we’ve come too far in this pitiful game of ours to stop now—ask it.”

Tav placed her chin on top of her knees, folding her arms underneath her legs. “Have you ever been in love?”

Astarion loudly scoffed. “Ha! Of course, my sweet. Why every night I had someone in bed, was a night to fall in love with someone new. Thousands of times over!”

She glowered at him.

“Oh, don’t give me that look. Gods, fine, if I have ever been in love—it would have been before I was turned into the monster I am now. Being under Cazador’s thrall didn’t exactly allow me to experience such relationships,” he answered honestly, turning to gaze away from her. Was he uncomfortable?

And then it slipped out. The unfading sentence that would change the rest of their evening. The comment that caused his facial expression to disobey his usual mask by granting her but a singular moment of incredulity. “I see no monsters here, ‘Starion.”

Nearer, nearer, nearer does he move. Grabbing her hands and kissing the underside of them. He wrapped them around his neck and tucked a couple of fingers under her chin, bringing her rosy face to his own. It was akin to witnessing lovers sharing secrets under an umbrella of their own carved out space. She could see the powder blues of his lifeless veins in the lighting, plagued with the intimate images to trace them with her fingers—with her lips.

“What would it take for you to be mine?” He cooed.

“To be yours?” She questioned shyly.

Bloodlust. Sex. Is this what all this was really about? Understandably, vampires could crave both, but was that all this was between them? Why go through the trouble of touching her body like he meant to venerate her?

Yet, mayhaps she was overthinking their entanglement. He told her before he was only seeking a distraction. Despite the care she felt for him that was at constant war, maybe that’s all this needed to be. Casual intimacy didn’t require labels; it only required consent. And they would most likely part ways once their situations with the tadpoles dissipated. She shouldn’t get used to having him by her side for longer than necessary.

“For tonight, that is," he affirmed.

“Maybe you should command me and find out.”

“I command you to come to my bed tonight,” Astarion proposed, working starved pecks on her lips.

“For what exactly?” Tav whispered into his mouth.

“Pleasure. I think we’ve waited long enough.”

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate tav #baldur's gate #astarion x tav #bg3 tav #tav #astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion acunin #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #epistles of saints & sinners #bard tav #spawn astarion #female tav #fem!tav

[legend-collection]

Erlking

In European folklore and myth, the Erlking is a sinister elf who lingers in the woods. He stalks children who stay in the woods for too long, and kills them by a single touch.

Pic by Sammycat17 on deviantart

The name "Erlking" is a name used in German Romanticism for the figure of a spirit or "king of the fairies". It is usually assumed that the name is a derivation from the ellekonge (older elverkonge, i.e. "Elf-king") in Danish folklore. The name is first used by Johann Gottfried Herder in his ballad "Erlkönigs Tochter" (1778), an adaptation of the Danish Hr. Oluf han rider (1739), and was taken up by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe in his poem "Erlkönig" (1782), which was set to music by Schubert, among others. Goethe added a new meaning, as "Erl" does not mean "elf", but "black alder" - the poem about the Erlenkönig is set in the area of an alder quarry in the Saale valley in Thuringia. In English translations of Goethe's poem, the name is sometimes rendered as Erl-king.

According to Jacob Grimm, the term originates with a Scandinavian (Danish) word, ellekonge "king of the elves", or for a female spirit elverkongens datter "the elven king's daughter", who is responsible for ensnaring human beings to satisfy her desire, jealousy or lust for revenge. The New Oxford American Dictionary follows this explanation, describing the Erlking as "a bearded giant or goblin who lures little children to the land of death", mistranslated by Herder as Erlkönig in the late 18th century from ellerkonge. The correct German word would have been Elbkönig or Elbenkönig, afterwards used under the modified form of Elfenkönig by Christoph Martin Wieland in his 1780 poem Oberon.

Alternative suggestions have also been made; in 1836, Halling suggested a connection with a Turkic and Mongolian god of death or psychopomp, known as Erlik Chan.

Johann Gottfried von Herder introduced this character into German literature in "Erlkönigs Tochter", a ballad published in his 1778 volume Stimmen der Völker in Liedern. It was based on the Danish folk ballad "Hr. Oluf han rider" "Sir Oluf he rides" published in the 1739 Danske Kæmpeviser. Herder undertook a free translation where he translated the Danish elvermø ("elf maid") as Erlkönigs Tochter; according to Danish legend old burial mounds are the residence of the elverkonge, dialectically elle(r)konge, the latter has later been misunderstood in Denmark by some antiquarians as "alder king", cf Danish elletræ "alder tree". It has generally been assumed that the mistranslation was the result of error, but it has also been suggested (Herder does actually also refer to elves in his translation) that he was imaginatively trying to identify the malevolent sprite of the original tale with a woodland old man (hence the alder king).

The story portrays Sir Oluf riding to his marriage but being entranced by the music of the elves. An elf maiden, in Herder's translation the Elverkonge's daughter, appears and invites him to dance with her. He refuses and spurns her offers of gifts and gold. Angered, she strikes him and sends him on his way, deathly pale. The following morning, on the day of his wedding, his bride finds him lying dead under his scarlet cloak.

Although inspired by Herder's ballad, Goethe departed significantly from both Herder's rendering of the Erlking and the Scandinavian original. The antagonist in Goethe's "Der Erlkönig" is the Erlking himself rather than his daughter. The Erlkönig appears to a young boy in a feverish delirium - his father, however, identifies the apparition as a simple streak of fog. Goethe's Erlking differs in other ways as well: his version preys on children, rather than adults of the opposite sex, and the Erlking's motives are never made clear. Goethe's Erlking is much more akin to the Germanic portrayal of elves and valkyries – a force of death rather than simply a magical spirit.

In Angela Carter's short story "The Erl-King", contained within the 1979 collection The Bloody Chamber, the female protagonist encounters a male forest spirit. Though she becomes aware of his malicious intentions, she is torn between her desire for him and her desire for freedom. In the end, she forms a plan to kill him in order to escape his power.

Charles Kinbote, the narrator of Vladimir Nabokov's 1962 novel, Pale Fire, alludes to "alderkings". One allusion is in his commentary to line 275 of fellow character John Shade's eponymous poem. In the case of this commentary, the word invokes homosexual ancestors of the last king of Zembla, Kinbote's ostensible homeland. The novel contains at least one other reference by Kinbote to alderkings.

In Jim Butcher's The Dresden Files, there is a character called the Erlking, modeled after the leader of the Wild Hunt, Herne the Hunter.

In the author John Connolly's short story collection Nocturnes (2004), there is a character known as the Erlking who attempts to abduct the protagonist.

The New Yorker's "20 Under 40" issue of July 5, 2010 included the short story "The Erlking" by Sarah Shun-lien Bynum.

A version of the Erl-King is mentioned in Zoe Gilbert's Mischief Acts, implied to be a figure related to Herne the Hunter.

In Andrzej Sapkowski's The Witcher saga, the highest leader of the Folk of the Alder elves, Auberon Muircetach, is also known as the Alder King. In the story, he maintains thematic ties to kidnapping: the Wild Hunt, known for abducting humans, is subordinate to him, and he orchestrates the imprisonment of Cirilla.

#Erlking #europe

[cashewally-sarcastic]

Ventus, who has spent days on the streets of Old Mondstadt listening to the voices of the people. Who has silently watched as parents take care of their young. Watch kids escort their aunts to the stores. The wind around him is so cold

He plays his lyre. Its the only thing he has on him. He would rather die than say where he acquired it, and at the end of the day its his lyre.

Ventus closes his eyes. For the breifedt moment he couldn't hear the deafening gales around him. He is in the eye of the hurricane. What song is he even playing? He switched from one track to the other minutes ago and was now improvising a solo.

The families are still talking to each other.

At the end of the day, he is just background music

.

Then one day a creature bumps into him. Radiating the same warmth as a prayer and eyes akin to his god's. Was it a spy? Was it a child? Was it a puppet?

Wearily, he asks for a name. Smiling as he tells the sprite how he wishes to make ballads of the little thing. It flutters around him, occassionally stumbling in mid air like its drunk. It gives out a little squeak as it gestures to itself.

Ventus tries to mimic that chime, but his mouth can't hit the same notes. The sprite speaks more and more, yet Vrntus can't understand a thing. He just smiles and nods as he subconsciously plays his lyre.

Before he knows it, he can feel the chill of night. Or at least what he thinks it night. The elders of the city tell what night is supposed to be, but the winds had carried away those voices a long time ago.

Tales of an object called the moon. How it would shift as the weeks go by. How it could disappear and be reborn once anew- surrounded by her starry sisters.

Night.

He hated it.

He hates how cold it is. How dark it is. How every candle and life is snuffed by the wind.

Yet the creature is still hear, making a nest on his lap.

Its warm.

Letting go of his lyre for just a breif moment, he runs his fingers down the cloak of the sprite. Soft yet smooth. Was this what a bird felt like?

Tomorrow would be another day. Tomorrow he could try to pronounce his ... freind's name better. Tomorrow he could do so much.

Despite the being being on his lap, he felt a warmth in his chest. Something he has never felt before. Something that made him think of protecting this creature.

Ventus rests his eyes as he carries his first friend, unware he would do this everynight til the day he died

*cheers and applause amid tears and sobs*

MAN that was NOT was I was thinking about sad wise but FUCK that hurts

#ready for my tags of insanity until i hit the tag limit? here we go: #i love that there's like PEOPLE and INTERACTIONS there even when just described like 'children escorting aunts to stores' it's so nice #and that contrasting to ventus's loneliness and 'he's just background music' OUGH that hits #also hi in love with the use of a period as a paragraph that's an amazing way to make a pause i'm stealing that from you <3 #the way night is described as like...a mystical thing is so cool #'elders told of an object called the moon' like man. they couldn't see the sky. #and how venti makes little wisp noises bestie couldn't speak but i love that it's so cute #the way venti is described too as being warm and light and making little noises against the cold and dark and silence of night.... #and questioning if wispi was like a bird.... :( #PLUS i know i say this literally every time but i love repetition the repeating of 'tomorrow this' 'tomorrow that' like... #it brings questions!!! is that the first time ventus was thinking about a TOMORROW and not just 'the next day'? #and then the end of 'every night until he died' like fuck... #the way that's said as just a fact like 'yes. he dies btw. this is a sweet moment but don't forget the death' hits #because for a second a SECOND you can forget that and just see this nameless bard meeting a wisp and finally having a friend #and not being alone #but then BOOM remember reality. #he is dead. he died. #anyway i loved it :0 #hi steel! #sorry for my insanity