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podcastenthusiast · 1 year

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"Here should be safe to set up camp," Geralt says, scanning the treeline with his eyes in that odd witcher way. Like he's seeing much more than a mere mortal could.

"Thank the gods," sighs Jaskier, who's been really starting to regret skiving off those physical fitness courses at Oxenfurt.

"Get a fire started while I tend to Roach."

"Oh Geralt, I'd love to, I would. Truly it's colder than a sorceress' shapely—"

"Jaskier."

"Well, as they say: you can lead a bard to timber, but you can't make him—"

"Just do it, Jaskier."

"I don't know how! All right? I've never built a fire in the middle of nowhere before! It's not one of the seven liberal arts, and I much prefer my fires stoked by comely barmaids in taverns."

Geralt looks at him for a long moment. It's a complicated look—frustration and amusement and a hint of regret. Mostly it's a look that says Jaskier is an idiot for joining him on the Path.

"Right," Geralt says slowly. He begins building the campfire himself.

"I imagine they teach wilderness survival to baby witchers at witcher school."

Geralt looks at him again and there's something different in his expression. The ghost of a smile? Jaskier doesn't quite know how to read it.

"Kaer Morhen," he says. "And yeah. Something like that."

"Oh?" Jaskier has to rein in his enthusiasm, his curious questions. Geralt so rarely reveals anything personal about himself or his past. Not that Jaskier has been forthcoming in that regard either. They live in the moment, day by day, but some context would help his creative process.

Besides all that, he genuinely wants to get to know Geralt a little better.

"Vesemir took me out into the forest one day. Gave me a knife and left me there for a month."

There is no bitterness in his words. If anything, the witcher sounds...almost fond. Nostalgic. Proud of his younger self for overcoming the challenges his mentors set before him.

It takes a moment for the true meaning of that to sink in and, once it does, Jaskier is horrified. His own parents weren't great, but even they would never simply abandon him.

"He just— like as a test— what—?"

"Real eloquent, bard. I doubt he had any choice. Probably wasn't even supposed to give me anything."

"How old were you?" he demands, unsure if any answer will make this revelation less abhorrent.

"Six? Seven? Maybe eight. I don't know." Geralt makes a gesture with his fingers and the pile of wood beneath his hand sparks with flame. "Not old enough to have learned Igni yet."

He can picture it, too, so vividly. Curse his dammed artist's imagination. Geralt, just a kid, alone and scared and definitely cold—because no one bothered to teach him how to start a fire.

"Stop it," the witcher snaps.

"What?"

"Looking at me like that. I'm fine. I was fine back then. Wasn't so bad at all compared to the Grasses. Vesemir came back for me like he said he would. I survived the trial—no, I didn't just survive; I exceeded all expectations, which is why they..." The witcher trails off. Takes a breath.

All of that... It's quite a lot of words for Geralt. Honest words, even.

It's his job to talk, to sing, to commit the most painful and difficult experiences to beautiful poetic verse. But Jaskier doesn't know what to say to his friend right now. Surely he has to say something.

"Geralt..."

"Don't waste your pity. Save it for the ones who didn't make it through. I did."

"Okay," the bard replies, careful and tentative. He isn't a brave man, nor a particularly kind one. But Jaskier considers himself an honest fellow so he adds, "Just because you made it through, you know, that doesn't mean what happened to you was all right, Geralt. Children aren't supposed to be left alone to fend for themselves."

The witcher laughs—a humorless, wretched sound. He doesn't say anything at all to that. Which is okay, really; Jaskier just needed him to hear it.

There is a long silence. The fire crackles. Jaskier absently strums his lute.

"You're gonna write a ballad about this, aren't you," Geralt says after a while.

"No!" Maybe. Yes. He won't perform it.

"Hm."

The fire crackles.

Quite out of the blue, Geralt tells him, "I befriended a wolf back then."

"What? You're joking!"

"Witchers don't have a sense of humor. Common knowledge."

"Common misconception. Most people are just stupid. No, hang on, stop distracting me—You had a pet wolf?!"

"Not a pet," the witcher corrects, smiling faintly. "Fangtooth was her own wolf."

"Fangtooth?" Jaskier repeats, struggling to contain his amusement. "Not Roach?"

"No."

"Forgive me, but that's adorable."

"I was just a child. I wanted to stay with her in the wilderness. Be a wolf, too. Or a knight." He shakes his head dismissively. Silly childish dreams.

"But you didn't," Jaskier says. And feels stupid for saying something so obvious.

"Too late for that," Geralt replies without reproach. "I was already a witcher."

"As a child, I wanted to run away and join the circus," the bard offers.

"Of course you did."

They're quiet for a moment then. Comfortable, shared silence. Just the sounds of birds and forest creatures, and Roach contentedly eating grass. The fire crackles.

"Geralt, will you teach me to light a fire? Without witcher magic, obviously, since I don't have any."

"Why?"

"Because...well, because I could be a more useful traveling companion. Like Fangtooth must've been."

"...Fine," Geralt agrees after some thought.

It is a skill he will be very grateful to have on freezing nights in the coming years, especially whenever the witcher is too injured or ill from those dreadful potions to help set up camp. He will try not to think of the child Geralt once was, subjected to horrific tests of his ability to survive all on his own.

Except he hadn't been on his own back then, not completely. And he isn't alone anymore, either.

#whisking canons and headcanons together until i get the hurt/comfort i need #this time it's twn jaskier and stuff but some hexer geralt backstory #the witcher #geraskier #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geraskier fic #witcher fanfiction #possibly part of a series where jaskier realizes how fucked up geralt's childhood was

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fruitsoxs · 3 months

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Secrets

pairing(s); Gale x (GN)reader/tav summary; After a night of spilling secrets, you open up about never having your first kiss. Gale offers to fix that. warning(s); mentions of drinking alcohol! reader/tav is a bard wordcount; 1.6k notes; a short and sweet fic as a treat

The atmosphere is lively as you strum the strings of your lute, playing a soft tune as your companions drink and talk. It’s been a rather heinous couple of days traveling through the wilderness. Although there is still some tension lurking between the members of the party, the fighting has died down. There even seems to be friendship growing between the seven of you.

After all the hard work you deserve a little time to relax. You pause the music, and reach down to grab the bottle of wine sitting below you. You bring it to your lips and take a long sip. After emptying the bottle, you go back to strumming. Your playing has become rather clumsy as the alcohol settles in your system, but the others don’t seem to notice. You play a song about some great heroes, which seems to fit your situation perfectly.

As the song nears the end, you look around the fire to others. Karlach and Shadowheart are having some deep discussion. Lae’zel is off to the side, cleaning blood off of her blade. Wyll is trying to talk to Astarion, a conversation that seems to be going nowhere. You tilt your head as you notice one of you is missing.

You can’t seem to spot Gale anywhere.

You set your lute down to the side and stand up slowly, careful not to fall back over. You twist your head to the left, then right. Looking for any sign of his purple robe. A small twinge of worry courses through you as you begin to walk around, looking in between the leaves of the trees. You’ve made it across the camp by the time you start hearing a voice muttering words you can't quite make out.

You find yourself walking towards the soft curses, stopping when you see your magic companion holding out his hand with a small ball of light in his palm. He’s sitting on a log, hunched over with his long brown hair hanging in front of his face. Resting by his side is a half empty bottle of wine. You can’t quite hear what he’s saying- so you take a step forward. A branch snaps below you, causing Gale to turn around and face you. The light in his palm disappears, but you can still see the fear on his face. “Oh!” he exclaims, the fear falling away when he sees it’s you. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be awake at this time.” he says, scooting over so you may join him on the log.

You wobble over, using the trunks of passing trees to keep yourself from falling over. He lets out a little chuckle as he watches you stumble closer. “How much have you had to drink, my friend?” he asks as you sit down next to him. You let out a small laugh. “Not too much, honestly.” He shoots you a questioning gaze before letting out a defeated sigh. “I suppose I can’t judge.”

“You left the party.” You point out, tilting your head to the side. “Ah, yes. Don’t get me wrong, your playing was amazing- I just needed a moment to myself.” he tells you, his smile dropping. “Is everything all right?” You ask, worried about your favorite companion.

He opens his mouth to tell you, but quickly shuts it again. It seems he’s unsure whether he wants to open up. “It’s… hard to talk about.” he finally says. He then goes quiet again, angling his body away. “That’s okay.” you reassure him, unsure how to help. He doesn’t answer. His face is unreadable, but you can tell that something is holding him down. The tension begins to get unbearable. So, in true drunk fashion, you elbow him in the arm with a sly smile. “Do you wanna know a secret?”

His face contorts with confusion, before a small smile rests across his lips as he remembers you’ve had quite a lot to drink. “Are you sure we should be sharing secrets right now?” he asks, although his curiosity is piqued.

“What’s the harm?” you answer, now grinning.

“Alright. What’s the secret?”

You look around dramatically, as if you’re making sure nobody else is there. You then lean in close and whisper. “I have horrible stage fright.” You then lean back, still smiling. “All of my confidence is fake.”

He stares at you for a moment before bursting out in laughter. “You’re pulling my leg, surely. I haven’t seen an ounce of nervousness in you since I met you.”

“No, It’s true!” you exclaim. “Before every performance I’m practically shaking in my boots.” You tilt your head up to the sky. "Before you set foot on stage- it's all so terrifying. However, once you strum that first note- all that fear seems to melt away."

Gale nods in understanding, though his amusement doesn't fade. "So it's that split second before you begin your performance that gets to you? Before the music has even started and your mind still has time to get tangled up in a thousand different worries?" he asks. You nod. "Exactly. I get so caught up in the 'what ifs.' What if I mess up a note? What if they don't like my song?" You sigh a bit before continuing. "I'm afraid I'm not as confident as I seem."

A comfortable silence looms over the two of you as he takes in your words. His smile begins to fade as he reaches down to grab the bottle by his side. He takes a drink. “I suppose it’s my turn to share a secret.” After a moment of hesitation he continues. “Sometimes…the weight of what I did holds me down. It makes me feel as though I am unable to breathe.” He tells you, his breath shaky. “Sometimes I find it hard to forgive myself.”

You reach out and put your hand on his arm in a comforting manner. “We all make mistakes Gale-”

He looks down at your hand, a painful smile stretching across his features. “I know.” He then lets out a soft chuckle. “Perhaps I am being too hard on myself. I was young, and over confident in my abilities.” Still smiling, he looks back up at you. “When it comes to love, we don't always act in the most rational manner… It’s only later, when everything is all over, that we regret it. I’m sure you understand.”

You grimace a bit and shake your head. “I.. actually wouldn’t know.” you mumble, heat spreading across your cheeks in shame. “I’ve never been in a relationship.”

Gale’s eyes widen. “No relationship?” he asks, seemingly surprised. "With a charming and beautiful face like yours, I would have thought that romance would be coming your way left and right." Your cheeks grow warmer at the compliment. He tilts his head back slightly with a curious look "I won't pry if you don't want me to, but I am curious as to why you have never been in a relationship before."

You bite your lip nervously before saying. "I...suppose my music has always been my main concern. I always thought that I had to master my craft, and love would come later. I never gave myself time for relationships- but I regret it all now." you admit with a solemn expression. "I have never even kissed someone."

Gale stares at you in surprise. “Ah, I see.”

He clears his throat, an encouraging smile spreading across his lips. “Well, there’s no need to panic. I'm certain that there’s someone out there that would give up the stars and moon just to kiss you” he tells you leaning in a bit closer.

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

His reassurance, although kind, doesn’t seem to ease your sour mood. He leans a bit closer, his cheeks rosy from the wine. “If it’s really bothering you that much, maybe…maybe I could give you your first kiss.” He offers, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your expression morphs into one of surprise, cheeks now on fire. “You would do that?” You ask, your heart beating faster than it ever has before (somehow faster than it does in the heat of battle even). He smiles. A sweet, comforting smile.

“It would be an honor.” He’s so close you can feel his breath on your face.

You think it over for a second. Perhaps swayed by the alcohol, or the moonlight shining down on his face, you find yourself wanting this more than anything else. You turn your body completely towards him. “Alright…I…I’m going to kiss you then.” you stumble over your words. Gale smiles, waiting for you to take the first step. Nervous, and a little insecure you purse your lips and move closer. Finally, you softly press your lips against his.

Gale’s lips meet yours, warm and gentle. His hand rests on your waist, softly urging you to move closer. Your body complies, and the kiss deepens. It’s a rather clumsy moment, and you are completely unsure of what to do. Still, it’s electrifying.

You pull away, letting out a nervous exhale. “Was that okay?”

Gale smiles tenderly at you. “It was wonderful,” he says. “Perfect in fact.” He presses his lips against your forehead, before pulling away. “Now, you’ve had your first kiss. There’s no need to worry anymore.” he mumbles, an unreadable emotion in his eyes.

“Thank you.”

He nods and pushes himself off the log. “Alright. How about we go join everyone else again?” he holds his hand out to you and helps you to your feet. You stay standing there for a moment, hand in his, staring up at him. He squeezes your hand, then lets it drop. Turning around to make his way back to the camp.

You stay frozen. Happy that you waited for this moment to have your first kiss, and scared about what this means for the future.

#gale x reader #gale x tav #gale x you #gale dekarios x reader #baldur's gate 3 x reader #bg3 x reader #late night fic hehe

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liminal-space-lesbian · 2 months

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BG3 Ladies x Bard Tav headcanons

Request: For request, can you write some about a bard tav and the female companions thank you have a nice day!

Thank you so much for this request, I just wanna apologize in advance and say I’ve never played a bard and know next to nothing about them, so if this is dreadful I fully apologize 😭

Karlach:

Karlach is your number one supporter. She ADORES when you play your lute in the evenings by the fire, it lulls her into a calm sense of security. She admires how you can play something so gentle and comforting, and then at the Tiefling party you strummed an enthusiastic tune.

She definitely dances along to your music, and sometimes if you sing she’ll join in. She’s not a great singer but she makes up for it with her enthusiasm. The time she doesn’t spend boisterously laughing or dancing her breath away, she sings along happily.

She’s so protective of you, oh my word. Any time you’re in a battle, she’s more than confident you can hold your own, but also you’re so precious to her that she tries her very best to keep you out of harms way. However, sometimes she hangs back to watch you viciously mock an enemy. “Yeah, you tell ‘em soldier!” She’ll shout encouragingly as she pulls her great axe from the corpse of an enemy. She also finds it impossibly hot when you mock an enemy.

Shadowheart:

Shadowheart is such a sucker for when you play her a ballad on your lyre. She will lounge back with a glass of wine and listen contentedly as you play. You may or may not have sang her a love song once, and she was quite literally swooning.

When you play a more energetic tune, she claps along and taps her foot to the beat. She’s not much for dancing, since she’s worried she’ll embarrass herself. If you beg enough she’ll give you a little jig though. Only if you’re alone though.

Other than your musical inclinations, she’s extremely impressed with how you charm people so easily. “Well look at you, you practically have them begging at your feet already.” And she’s not wrong, a sweet smile and a bat of your lashes and you get your way. She’s susceptible to your charms as well, don’t get me wrong. She just finds it incredibly endearing to watch you get your way.

Lae’zel:

Lae’zel complains that your drumming is incredibly annoying and pointless, but you catch her nodding her head to the beat more than once. If you’re charming enough you can get her to admit your music is… bearable.

When you set a marching beat during your travels, against her better judgment she will tramp along to the tempo you’ve set. During battle she is rather impressed by your skills Though she finds your ability to befriend anyone silly, she can’t deny its effectiveness.

Oh, and when you sing to her? She’s a goner. She will pretend to ignore you, but when you stop singing she’ll turn her head to glare at you. “Chk, tired already?” She’ll taunt, only settling back down when you continue.

Dame Aylin:

Aylin adores when you play your flute for her. She could listen to you play for hours, simply watching you adoringly. Every once and a while she’ll request a specific song, and absolutely sing your praises when you deliver.

Sometimes she asks you to sing for her, so she can fall asleep. She does have trouble sleeping sometimes, since her dreams are filled with memories of being trapped in shadow fell :( but you always are there to soothe her with a song.

Aylin always keeps you out of harms way in combat, even though you can hold your own. You’re too preschools for her to risk, so she makes sure you stay swell away from combat. She does appreciate your help when you boost her and your companions abilities with a warding spell. She is rather proud of your arcane abilities.

“Darling, aren’t you just the sweetest. Whatever would I do without you?” She always showers you with kisses after a battle, making sure to show her appreciation for you <3

Isobel Thorm:

Isobel loves watching you play your violin. She thinks it’s incredible how you so gracefully sway about, your fingers forming chords smoothly as your other hand draws the bow across the strings. It’s all skill, and she can see that.

When you play something more upbeat, she’s the first to be standing and supporting you, dancing the night away and cheering you on. She’ll also encourage your companions to dance as well, she wants to share the joy she feels by your music.

She also loves watching you fight, your nearly effortless grace in which you charm and smite enemies is something she greatly admires. “You impress me more every day, lovely.” She’ll call across the battlefield as you stand amongst a group of charmed enemies. You flash her a thumbs up in response, continuing your spell casting.

A/n

Sorry if these are kinda bad but I’m writing this in bed after working all day so 😀

#bg3 requests #bg3 #bg3 headcanons #bg3 karlach #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 lae'zel #bg3 dame aylin #bg3 isobel #dame aylin x reader #isobel thorm x reader #isobel x reader #karlach x reader #shadowheart x reader #lae’zel x reader

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artiststarme · 1 year

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A Sleepwalking Surprise

I have no idea what this is. I hope you guys like it and please leave your thoughts in the comments.

~*~*~*~

“You walk into the dark cavern to reveal the fire-breathing dragon that’s been charring the King’s soldiers and burning them to crisps. The mighty beast is towering and its scales are seemingly impenetrable. The dragon notices your entrance and spews a fiery and gruesome spray of fire at the Party before any of you have a chance to react. Roll for damage.”

The entire Party grumbled and rolled their dice. They thought they were going to find treasure, not a dragon trying to burn them all to death. Gareth’s half orc ranger and Dustin’s own half elf bard suffered the most damage at the surprise attack. Gareth muttered something about Eddie always targeting his characters and grunted in anger.

Eddie chuckled mockingly at them from behind his DM screen, “Gwaine and Lorcan suffer fire damage and drop their weapons when the flames lick at their hands. Lorcan, what’s your action?”

Dustin huffed with stress and ran a hand through his exposed curls. “I roll for initiative.”

“Go ‘head and roll,” Eddie told him, taking a sip of his Mountain Dew from his chalice. The bastard looked devious as he eyed him over the lip of the prop.

Dustin blew on his dice to wish them luck. This roll could make or break the rest of the game for him. “14. Lorcan picks up his lute and attempts to entrance the dragon with music.”

“Alright, Lorcan is able to retrieve his instrument from the ground where it sustained some minor charring but remains playable. The dragon is distracted and does not notice the first few notes of tune…”

Dustin was on the edge of his seat. Was it going to work? Would his move save the Party?

“The dragon released one more bellowing breath of fire at the Party before his eyes glaze- Stevie?”

Dustin’s eyes whipped open. Steve? What the hell was he doing in this story? He followed Eddie’s gaze to see Steve, his best friend and babysitter, standing in the entrance of the trailer’s kitchen. He was standing tensely with his eyes roughly unfocused on Eddie.

“What the hell is Steve doing here?” Dustin asked his dungeon master.

“Is he okay?” Lucas asked him in concern.

But Eddie just waved them off, “he’s fine. He sleepwalks sometimes,” then he turned to Steve. “C’mon Big Boy, let’s get you back to bed.”

He rested a gentle hand on his back and one on his arm then guided Steve back to the bedroom. Meanwhile, the kids were dumbfounded. Why was their babysitter, the one that said he had plans today and couldn’t join the session, in Eddie Munson’s trailer? They didn’t even know they were still friends after the Upside Down!

Jeff, Gareth, and Grant didn’t even blink at Steve’s presence. To be fair though, they’d known Eddie a lot longer than the other boys and he’d done a lot weirder things than mother-henning the reformed King of Hawkins High.

A few minutes later, Eddie returned to the living room and picked up right where he left off. “The dragon’s eyes glaze over and he becomes transfixed by the music! He can’t focus on anyone other than Lorcan’s pudgy fingers delivering the sweet, sweet tunes. Droggom, what’s your move?”

“Okay, wait a goddamn minute. Are we not going to talk about how you have Steve sleeping in your bed right now?” Mike sputtered.

Eddie in his part just looked confused. “Where else would he sleep? He’s tired and you’re all sitting on the couch.”

Mike gestured with his hands in frustration and shot a look at Dustin. It was in his hands now to get answers. “Why can’t he sleep at his own house? And since when are you guys friends? We need answers!”

“Oh, we’re friends alright. We’re great friends. Now, focus on the game or I’ll maim you. Where were we?”

~*~*~*~

The game continued for the next several hours without interruption. However, just as they were wrapping up for the session and settling at a tavern, Steve came walking back down the hallway. He was yawning and fiddling with a pair of wire-framed glasses perched on his nose. Dustin couldn’t help but feel even more confused. Since when did Steve wear glasses?

Eddie perked up in his seat immediately upon visage of Steve. His deceitful smirk turned into a genuine smile and he hopped up to meet Steve as soon as he crossed into the living room.

“Stevie! Are you awake this time?” Eddie wrapped his arms around him in an engulfing embrace.

“Mhmm, still tired though,” he muttered. Then he took everyone by surprise. Steve pulled away from the hug only to plant a kiss directly on Eddie’s lips before walking into the kitchen.

Everyone’s jaws dropped. Dustin didn’t know whether to voice his support or yell at them for not telling him anything and the rest of the group seemed to be in the same boat as they stared unmovingly at Eddie. And Eddie just stood still as if he couldn’t believe that had just happened.

Suddenly, there was a crash in the kitchen and a shouted, “shit!”

Steve rushed back out, now wide awake, and looked at Eddie in horror. “Oh god, fuck, shit! Fuck Eddie, do you think they noticed?”

“Yeah we noticed!” Lucas yelled.

“How the hell do you think we could’ve missed that?!” Dustin cried. Jesus Christ, seeing your two older male friends macking on each other left an impression.

“Why the fuck are you smooching on Eddie?! First my sister and now Eddie too?!” Mike screamed at him in offended outrage.

The poor Corroded Coffin guys just looked so tired. They knew already and Dustin would never forgive them for keeping it a secret from him.

Eddie looked at Steve, “yeah, I think they noticed.”

Steve just sighed and grabbed his keys. “I have to leave now or I’ll be late for work. See you guys later!”

“And leave me here with these assholes? I think fucking not. I’m coming with you, let’s go,” he told him. Eddie grabbed his wallet and boots as he walked to the door. He shouted to the group over his shoulder, “lock up when you leave!”

The Hellfire club heard the Beemer’s engine rev and then they were alone. Dustin just looked at the other boys in confusion before screaming a loud, “what the fuck?!”

Just a few hours later, Dustin, Lucas, and Mike would corner Steve and Eddie in Family Video. They’d find out that Steve regularly sleeps over at the Munson trailer and that they’d been dating for three months. Dustin would give them his support before immediately slugging Eddie for ‘defiling his older brother’ and getting a wedgie in return. Sigh, good times, good times indeed.

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#Robin is really mad when she finds out because they told the kids first #Eddie bans Hellfire from his house because obviously someone can't keep his private affairs private #looking at you Steve #The CC boys know because Steve did the exact same thing at band practice #stranger things #steddie #fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #lucas sinclair #corroded coffin #hellfire #gareth emerson #jeff #grant

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grimm-writings · 9 days

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HIIII i LOVE your blog!! could i request a bard reader performing a song in front of the party, and it slowly dawns upon chilchuck that the song is about loving him? 🥺

a way with words

…ft! chilchuck x gn! reader

…tags! fluff, reader is a bit of a poetic shit <3, reader plays a string instrument (envisioned a lute or mandolin but i don’t specify!)

…wc! 1092

…notes! OH MY GODDDD this is so cute. what the hell. we need more bard representation in this got damn dungeon. (i know thistle could technically be one but one in a party i beg)

To me, some parties employ a bard if they plan on going on ‘legendary’ outings into dungeons.

Somebody needs to be there to document their exploits through the written word – how else are legends made?!

You probably stumbled on the party with the intent to write a song of legend. Eating the dragon that ate one of you sounds pretty legendary after all, right?

Safe to say if you’re not exactly humble about your profession you get on the nerves of a certain union man.

Even if your reason for joining the party was… less than virtuous, you did bring a certain joy to the party that they all appreciate.

If journeying is getting tiring, all you need to do is pluck a few strings of your instrument and hum a travelling song.

Sometimes you’d make a little ‘game’ out of it. You know using the drunken sailor melody to make your own songs? Well…

“What shall we do with a big red dragon, earl-ye in the morning!” Your voice rings out, bouncing off the walls of the dungeon around you. You eye the party around you before your gaze lands on the half-foot seeming disinterested in your performance. Well, that simply won’t do! You lunge, dragging him back by the shoulders, eyeing him expectantly. He only gives you a wide-eyed look of surprise for a second before realising everyone is watching. He’d hate to interrupt the song, so… “Tie it down and eat it for dinner?” he suggests, only guessing the rhythm vaguely. To his surprise, you seem to really like it. You laugh and pick up the music once more to sing his lyric once again. He has to admit, at least you’re having fun. He doesn’t realise until you reach a stop that he’s been singing along at the end.

I imagine half-foots have a cultural appreciation for music. It’s a big scene! They have drinking songs, travelling songs, work songs… I wouldn’t be surprised if most bards are half-foots!

And Chilchuck is no exception. Have you seen his little jig? Of course he likes music!

He has great hearing so he’ll also pick up on little accents in your music and singing others wouldn’t really get.

If you’re performing a campfire song, Chilchuck will likely join in (especially if he had a bit of drink).

It’s nice. He seemed to be relaxing around you, and you seem to be becoming more of a friend to the party rather than a glorified biographer.

You have to admit that the half-foot has been growing you a considerable amount. What a complex individual. So much to read into and inspire…

It would be one night when you’re on night watch that Chilchuck’s sensitive ears end up waking him up. ..

The half-foot was going to hiss and complain about you being too loud at this time in the night, when he realises you’re playing a melody and mumbling words to yourself. …Huh. Are you writing a song? Chilchuck tries to remain still with his eyes closed and listens closely. It’s handy having such keen senses sometimes. He could only pick up a few words; brown, warmth… something about a kind soul? Chilchuck figures you might be setting up for the party’s “legendary” song. Maybe you’re focusing on Falin. Her hair is a very pale brown, and she’s a kind soul if a bit of a people pleaser. He rests easy, listening to your gentle plucking of your strings. It’s a different melody from usual… he likes your softer side he can identify through your music.

He never tells you he listened to your little jam sesh. If you knew he’s using your music as a way to fall asleep easier… He can see your smug smile now, and it makes him endlessly frustrated (or flustered rather).

Chilchuck’s feelings are something he never really… knew. They just sort of existed, and he let them. It’s not like anything will happen.

Sure, he gets more red in the face around you… and MAYBE he gets a softer look in his eyes as he looks at you… and perhaps he thinks your singing voice is one of the prettiest sounds he has ever heard…

So what?

It’s a colder night when you take out your instrument and announce you finished writing a song. It took you a long time to complete it, you admit, but you put a lot of heart into it.

A unique starter, the party might think. Usually you write for fun. Specifying putting heart into your music is something that rings an alarm in their heads.

You start playing a melody. It’s a type of sombre, deep sound. It resonates a less folksy mood and something more… personal. With eyes closed, you don’t notice Chilchuck perking up in familiarity. That’s the tune he heard you playing weeks ago. You only just refined it? At least he can actually hear what the words are. Your eyebrows are furrowed as you sing about a character that has a kind soul, with deep brown eyes. His warmth is something that you find yourself wanting to bathe in once a journey ends. Chilchuck listens with a small smile. It’s only when you start mentioning things like silver strands of hair you wish to weave through your fingers, things start to fall into place. Wringing his hands too often for a well-prepared man is a lyric that is too specific to merely be about some fictional character. He doesn’t say anything even as he joins in the applause at your finished peace, pretending the heat in his cheeks is from the frosty temperature.

That night, he catches you alone refilling your waterskin. The atmosphere is thick with a kind of calmness.

Where Chilchuck is usually so stubborn, he finds the words escaping his lips in a soft voice.

“Are you in love with me?” You don’t respond instantly. He expected as such. He follows your form with his eyes as you widen your eyes and glance away with a small laugh. “Wow. Wasn’t as subtle as I thought,” you dryly tack onto your chuckle. He laughs along, approaching you. He doesn’t do anything drastic, instead offering his own to you. “It’s okay,” he tells you, surprised at his own lack of embarrassment despite the situation. “The fact you notice all that about me is… flattering. You really have a way with words.” You return the grin he gives you and take his hand, squeezing it. “How could I not notice, when you are my intimate muse?”

#✮ grimm's fics!#delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon imagines #delicious in dungeon x reader #dungeon meshi imagines #dungeon meshi x reader #chilchuck #chilchuck tims #chilchuck imagines #chilchuck tims imagines #chilchuck tims x reader #chilchuck x reader

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flowercrowngods · 6 months

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the bard is pining and it’s not a good look on him

On unsteady feet, and with an unsteadier heart yet, Eddie turns abruptly and all but stumbles his way back through the large doors and into the ballroom, which has filled with more guests and more servants and more people who will steal the air from right beneath his nose.

It leaves him frazzled and shaking, and his heart falls anew when he realises that he needs to cross the room to leave.

As if pulled in by string or higher power, Eddie finds Lord Harrington immediately, the man’s broad back turned toward him as he watches his friend — the bard with daggers in her eyes — approach the dais, lute in one hand and flute in the other. It’s a thin one, and made not of wood but of some kind of metal, and Eddie feels a flash of jealousy at her blatant display of talent and proficiency in more instruments than one. Even greater jealousy still when Lord Harrington keeps his attention on her — oh, and how well Eddie is acquainted with his attention, heavy and intense and leaving him hungry for more. Starving.

He yearns for it. Longs to approach the stage and join the other bard as she begins to play, if only to be in the vicinity of that attention. That affection. All that gentle intensity.

#steddie #bard/knight #i am working on it my brain is just congested and i am swaying as we speak

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commander-krios · 2 months

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With Devotion And A Little Luck

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Pairing: f!Tav/Rolan Rating: Teen Summary: Rolan wasn't expecting a tiny bard with a penchant for wild magic to get under his skin in this way, but with a little luck, his devotion will be rewarded in kind. Words: 5002 Additional Tags: Tieflings, Romance, Love, Fluff, Pranks, Marriage Proposal, Post-Canon, Bard Tav

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The gathering was separated from the bustle of Baldur’s Gate, sequestered away in Ramazith’s Tower as they were. The company wasn’t awful, he supposed, taking a drink of wine from his goblet. This party was much better than the one at the Grove, for many reasons, but the main of them because Rolan was now archmage of Baldur’s Gate, master of his own tower, and safely within the city walls with his siblings, a new life opening up before him.

And it was all because of the irritating bard playing at the center of the party, the soft melody of her lute at odds with the swirling dance she attempted. She’d taken to keeping her hair down lately, the burgundy streaks more noticeable as the waves of her raven hair tumbled over her shoulders. Juniper was beautiful, free of a tadpole, her only responsibility to herself and those she deemed worthy of her attention.

Rolan was grateful to be one of them.

With a satisfied sigh, he walked the perimeter of the room, eyes sweeping across the other guests: her former companions, most of the surviving tiefling refugees (the children as well), Cal and Lia, and some of their allies were gathered, drinking and laughing and enjoying the very fact that they were alive and their enemies were not.

“You’re smiling more than usual.” Lia said from where she lurked, a mug of ale in her hands and the usual mischief on her face.

“Be careful, Rolan.” Cal added from where he sat on a chair near their sister, his expression parroting hers. “You might scare the children.”

“Very funny.” He snapped, but his voice held no anger. It couldn’t when he was grinning like a fool. “You cannot deny we’ve been lucky in our endeavors.”

“It isn’t luck. Not when Juniper is involved. Luck laughs at her every time she tries something.” Lia waved to where the bard was starting a new tune, joined by Alfira’s lute and Shadowheart’s singing voice. Wyll spun Astarion briefly before dipping him, a grin curling the Blade’s lips as he righted them to standing, applause breaking out amongst the group.

Rolan turned back to Lia, ready to jump to Juni’s defense if he needed to. “That’s not-”

Cal raised an eyebrow and he paused, waiting for his brother to speak. “She attracts accidents like fruit attracts flies, but then you know that.”

“Let’s be fair to Rolan. He probably likes it.”

He opened his mouth, a retort on the tip of his tongue when a touch of the weave passed over him. A soothing presence, to be sure, and he didn’t even have to turn to know who had joined their circle.

“Ah, it’s wonderful to see you three in such high spirits.” Gale said, the smile on his face brighter than the dancing lights that Halsin was casting over the gathering. “How is life in the Tower?”

“It’s wonderful.” Lia gushed before taking a quick glance at Rolan, grin only widening. “We never get a moment’s silence thanks to this one.”

Gale raised an eyebrow, curious, and Rolan already felt his cheeks heat. “She’s being facetious. Nothing as untoward as she’s implying happens. Besides-” He glared at his sister with a pointed look. “She doesn’t live at the Tower any longer. Not since joining the Flaming Fist.”

“And I’ve never been happier.”

Ignoring Lia’s jab, Rolan motioned for Gale to follow him, away from the prying ears of his siblings and the rest of the guests. The rumble of chatter drifted around them, a comforting lull to the evening. Stepping away from the crowds, Rolan faced Juniper’s closest friend, wondering how he might approach the subject without the awkwardness that he knew was going to follow.

Clenching his hands into fists at his side, he took a deep breath before hissing it out between his teeth. Anxiety clenched at his chest, a fear that he didn’t realize he had coiling in his gut. “Gale, I want to propose marriage.”

The older wizard cocked an eyebrow, a shocked laugh escaping his mouth. “Well, this is certainly unexpected, for sure. While I am flattered, Rolan, I must regretfully decline.”

Rolan opened his mouth to speak, before shutting it close quickly, confusion morphing into horror. “What? No, not you! Whatever made you think such a thing. I meant Juniper.”

Gale chuckled, giving him a knowing look as he swiped a bottle of some fancy liquor from the table next to them. “I didn’t know your face could get any rosier, archwizard.”

Rolan huffed, running a hand over his face, mortified. He’d walked right into that one. “I think you are spending too much time with Juniper.”

“On the contrary, I do enjoy our afternoon teas.” Gale sipped his drink, barely able to hide the grin he wore. When he was finished, he pointedly glanced around the room at the people as they moved around and conversed with others. A crowd that rivaled any of the parties they’d had since the war had ended. “So what was your plan? To do it now, here, around all of these people? Don’t you think you might do this in a… quieter environment?”

The very thought of making a public spectacle out of something so personal, so private, was almost enough to make him combust on the spot. “I… not at this very moment! I am looking for advice on how to proceed with a proposal. I… well, I’ve never done one.”

“And you believe I have?” Gale asked, the amusement on his face at least letting Rolan feel comfort knowing that he hadn’t offended him. “I think you might have the wrong idea about me.”

Rolan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers, trying to regain control of the awful turn in their conversation.

“Maybe you should consult Astarion, hmm? He might be better for planning elaborate things like this.” Gale’s eyes searched the people for the vampire. “I’m sure he’ll have some ideas. The bigger, the better.”

“No.” Rolan growled out, the idea that Astarion would help him instead of mocking him the entire time was beyond what he was willing to deal with. He cleared his throat awkwardly when Gale turned back, eyes widened in shock. With his voice under control, he repeated himself. “No. I would prefer it if Astarion was not involved.”

“Perhaps Shadowheart, then?”

That name brought up a different issue. Rolan winced, trying to hide it but knew Gale saw it when his gaze softened slightly. “I… doubt she’d want to help. It might be awkward for her.”

“How so?”

He didn’t know then? That was a surprise. Juniper wasn’t usually a secretive person. Rolan figured her fling with Shadowheart would’ve been obvious to those that spent time in camp with them, especially someone she was as close with as she was with Gale. When she’d told him about her feelings for Shadowheart, and Karlach, back when they were traveling together in the beginning… he’d had a mini breakdown over it.

“Shadowheart and Juniper… well, Juni mentioned the two of them were… close.”

Gale pondered his words momentarily before his eyes widened, realizing what Rolan was getting at. “Oh, I see what’s happened.” Gale poured a second glass of alcohol, handing it to Rolan without preamble. “You’re completely mistaken about the type of relationship they had.”

“But-”

“There was, at one point, a mutual attraction. They spent much of their time together in the beginning. Shadowheart, especially, felt a closeness to Juniper that she didn’t with the rest of our party.” Gale waited for him to take a sip of the drink, the alcohol burning his tongue before it set his throat on fire when he swallowed. Rolan hoped it helped him get through this conversation. “But- that all changed after the attack on the Grove.” Rolan met his gaze, finding it strange to see Gale watching him in interest. “Do you know why?”

“I’m certain you’ll tell me.”

“There was ample opportunity for her to choose a lover the night of the party. I remember it well. The way the attention was on her as she played her lute, chatted with the guests, drank more alcohol than her small form should’ve been able to handle. Shadowheart, Astarion, the Blade of Frontiers, our dear Karlach. I watched them all from where I sat by my tent, observing the festivities, watching them make fools of themselves because no matter how hard they tried, no matter how much flirting Halsin did or how much praise that Zevlor lavished on her, none of them had a chance.” Gale sighed, eyes far away as if he remembered that night as vividly as Rolan did.

Things were making sense now, but he needed to hear it. He couldn’t find the words to respond, only stared at Gale as he returned his gaze to his face.

“Because she chose to spend the night in your presence.”

“I…” He didn’t deserve her affection at that time, not at all. Not with the way he’d treated her. “I was awful to her. Why did she-”

“You’ll never truly know unless you ask.”

He pondered Gale’s words a moment, weighing the truth of them. He was prepared to ask another question, probably one that would’ve embarrassed him no doubt, when something tugged on the sleeves of his robes.

“Master Rolan?”

Glancing down, Rolan caught sight of Silfy… or was it Ide? Which one had the mass of curls piled atop their head? He honestly didn’t know all of their names, not like Juniper did, and he felt a flash of guilt. After everything they’d all been through, he really should’ve been making more of an effort to keep in touch with the other tieflings from Elturel. The children were especially vulnerable.

“Uh, yes? Did you need something?”

The child fidgeted, glancing at her feet and it took him a moment to recognize where he’d seen her. It was the same child he’d angrily (and drunkenly) yelled at during their stay at Last Light. More things for him to make up for, it seemed.

“Ide, right?”

She blinked at him owlishly, as if surprised he knew her name. Which, he supposed, was a shock since he too wasn’t sure if he knew it either. “Y-yes, sir.”

Rolan knelt so he could meet her gaze on her level, giving her the power when she’d had so little in her young life. He knew how awful it felt to not have control over what happened to you, to have to trust others for your safety. But she was safe, and despite how much of an ass he acted about it, he was proud to know that he helped her achieve that much. “Why don’t you tell me what you need and I’ll help you, alright?”

She eyed him warily, ochre eyes slanting suspiciously. “Why are you being so nice?”

Rolan flinched, but he supposed he deserved that. Stifling a sigh in his chest before it could escape, he glanced around the room, seeking the woman he knew would help him find the words that always failed him. Juniper stood across the room, leaving Alfira to continue the music while she, the Hero of Baldur’s Gate, chatted with some of the other guests. She must’ve felt his gaze because she glanced in his direction, a smile on her lips.

His heart skipped a beat, maybe even two, at the grin that was only for him. A grin that he got to see every morning when the dawn broke across the sky, and every night when the stars were sparkling like a thousand dancing lights. Whatever it was that Juniper saw in him, even months into their relationship, he still completely didn’t understand, but he was never going to regret a single second they were together.

Rolan returned his gaze to Ide, trying to tame his own smile, if only to keep from scaring the child. “Because someone reminded me that kindness was important. And we can’t choose our pasts, but we can decide our futures.”

Ide smiled at him, reaching out to tug on his sleeve again. “Juniper is smart.”

Rolan snorted in amusement, but the child spoke the truth. At least, when it came to matters that didn’t require magic. He would never trust her with that ever again. “I’ll ask again, what did you need?”

“Oh, I wanted to do something for you.” Ide kicked her feet with her hands clutched behind her back, and for a brief moment, he swore he noticed the same type of mischief that Lia got in her eyes before she teased him. “Juniper let me braid her hair for the party and…”

She trailed off, raising her eyebrows as if she expected him to finish her thoughts. With a sigh, he took another glance in Juni’s direction, noting that she did indeed have an elaborate braid in her hair. The little hat with bells attached was also a newer acquisition, probably from Facemaker’s though Rolan didn’t know when she’d gone to get it.

He turned his attention back to Ide, watching as she smiled at him with a grin that made warning bells go off in his head. She was up to something, but with no proof, he’d only make an ass of himself if he started making accusations.

“Let me guess. You want to braid my hair as well?”

The child shrugged, refusing to meet his eyes as she responded. “It was Miss Juniper’s idea.”

He knew that was bullshit. Or at the very least, not the entire truth. While he didn’t doubt that Juniper helped Ide in whatever schemes she and the other children had concocted, Rolan remembered when he too had been a child, not all that long ago. Causing trouble was a perk of being small and presumably innocent of the world. Though, as a tiefling child, it is certainly more difficult to get away with even the smallest infractions.

And that was the purpose of this, he supposed. These children were orphans and Juniper was extending them a kindness, a place to belong, even for a fraction of a moment in time. It was more than he and his siblings ever got.

Stifling a sigh, Rolan let Ide lead him to a chair out of the way of the crowd. He sat, suspicion growing as she pulled up a stool behind him, climbing up with little trouble. She balanced on her knees, wobbling briefly, and Rolan feared that she might topple over and smash her head against the ground. But she steadied herself, putting her hands on the back of his chair.

When she met his gaze, she raised an eyebrow. “Ya need to face the other way for this to work, yeah?”

The sigh slipped out this time. He tried to get comfortable, but nothing was significantly less comfortable than having a child in control of anything.

Ide pulled the band from his hair, combing her fingers between the strands, admiring the length. Or, at least, that’s what he assumed she was doing. “Ya always so damned uptight?”

“What did you-” Rolan tried to turn, but Ide pulled on his hair roughly, stopping him with a sudden stab of pain along his scalp. “Damn it, that hurts!”

“Stop movin’ then.” She muttered, twisting a tight braid along his hairline. “Ya makin’ my work hard.”

Rolan rolled his eyes, but did as he was told, letting the menace that masqueraded as a child continue to braid what was left of his hair after she’d yanked half out. The things he did for Juniper, even when she wasn’t the one who’d asked in the first place.

It wasn’t long before he and Ide drew a small crowd…of more children.

“I can braid better than that.” One of the girls said, crossing her arms and turning up her nose at them. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail with cute little braids framing her face. Braids that were pretty, he supposed. “You aren’t making them tight enough.”

A boy, Rolan was pretty sure it was the one that swindled people while his sister pickpocketed (Matthis? Matty?) stood next to the girl with braids, tapping a finger to his chin. “Arabella has a point.”

“There’s only one way to settle this.” The girl, Arabella, pulled up her own chair, climbing up on the other side of Rolan without even asking. What in the nine hells were these children up to?

Rolan shifted away from Arabella, only to get his hair tugged painfully by Ide again.

“Ouch!”

“Sit still!” She scolded him like he was the child here. Once he settled again, she must’ve turned her attention to the other girl. “You're on. Stakes?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Arabella wave another tiefling child over, Mirkon if the wild mass of curls was any indication, whispering something in his ear before he disappeared. “Tightest braids with flowers weaved in. Mattis will judge. Winner gets the last sweet roll in the kitchen.”

Last sweet roll? Wait-

“When did you go into the kitchens-”

“No usin’ your fancy magic.” Ide snapped, untangling the braid she’d been working on before the interruption.

Laughter on the opposite side of the room caught his attention. Lia and Cal were watching the situation with the joy of two younger siblings witnessing the oldest’s torture. He flushed in irritation.

When he opened his mouth to snap at them, or the children, he wasn’t picky, the words stopped in his throat. His mouth flapped like a fish’s, no sound, not a single word uttered from it. Glancing at the little girl to his left, he saw the flash of a smirk before she blinked at him, eyes wide in childlike innocence.

Did she… use Silence on him?

That little-

“Handy magic.” Mattis said from where he stood, watching the entire interaction with a shit-eating grin. “Maybe we could make use of it for…” He trailed off at the glare Rolan aimed in his direction. “Ah, we’ll talk about it later. Where there are less ears.”

Rolan tried to speak, to tell the little menace what he wanted to do with his ears, but nothing came out. With a disgruntled noise that couldn’t be heard either, he crossed his arms over his chest like a child and waited for the girls to finish their work. It wasn’t long before Mirkon returned with a handful of flowers from one of the vases.

He suffered for about twenty minutes as his hair was pulled, flowers were woven into the plaits, the scent tickling his nose. His scalp was on fire when they finished, leaving him sitting there with a frown on his face and a head full of braids.

“There!” Arabella exclaimed happily, jumping off of the stool to the giggling of the rest of the children. “What do you think, Mattis?”

The young boy approached, a claw to his chin as he studied their handiwork. “Hmmm.”

Zurgan, he could only imagine how he looked with the frippery in his hair and the ridiculous amount of braids he felt pressed against his scalp. And he still couldn’t speak. Despite having once been a child himself, he couldn’t imagine doing half the things these ones did. Zevlor was too soft on them and Juniper only made it worse.

“I'm calling it for Ide.” Mattis said with a grin, as if he liked it when Arabella glared at him incredulously. “Sorry, Bells.”

“I’ll ask him instead.” Arabella huffed, muttering an incantation to lift the spell. The tingling in his throat dissipated and he was left with a roughness in his vocal cords that he was sure would annoy him for the rest of the evening. Then she handed him a small oval mirror, small enough to carry in someone’s bag on their travels. “What do you say? Which braids are better?”

He glanced down at his mirror image, seeing his prominent nose and smattering of dark freckles, the dark scleras and fiery irises, the points of his teeth showing beneath his top lip. His dark hair was plaited on both sides, but the right was significantly looser, the flowers drooping where they were tied in. He remembered the last time he said a harsh word to Ide and lost his nerve. How could he be a critic to a child whom he’d hurt in the past?

Rolan was prepared to risk the ire of the little wizard in the making when he noticed the other decoration they’d put on him.

Mittens. On his horns, fingerless ones that bent at awkward angles from where they hung. When had they done that?

“What did you-”

The children broke off in laughter, scattering throughout the Tower in a rush, each in a different direction so they wouldn’t be found together.

With a huff, he stood, taking the mirror with him before he stopped suddenly, realizing he’d been watched. Juniper crossed the distance between them, struggling not to smile, but failing immediately when he glanced down at her, his face scrunched in irritation. His scalp throbbed painfully, the braids too tight, the flowers irritating his nose and he had to stifle a sneeze.

“Having fun?” She asked sweetly, hands behind her back as if she was innocent of any wrongdoing. It only made him suspect her more.

“You set me up, didn’t you?” He asked, even if he already knew the truth. Her smirk was enough of an answer for him. “Those children were not gentle.”

“Poor Rolan.” Juniper reached up to run a hand over his new braids, inspecting them thoroughly. A delighted sound left her throat, something close to a laugh. “They did an excellent job.”

“I’m sure they did. Even if they were clearly plotting something else the entire time.” He pointed at the mittens hanging haphazardly from his horns and the sight made a giggle burst from her. “This is your fault.”

“You don’t trust me when I say I had nothing to do with it?”

Rolan slid his hands against her waist, locking his fingers together at the small of her back before pulling her closer. His mouth brushed across her cheek, a soft kiss before he responded. “I trust you to save my life, but I also trust you to keep that same life from being boring.”

“Oh, believe me. You’ll never be bored with me around.”

Rolan glanced down at her clothing, taking in the low cut neckline, the flare of the gown down to her feet, the slit on one side that showed off her calf whenever she turned just so. It suited her as much as the stupid hat on her head did.

“You are stunning.”

Juniper’s mouth curled, and he was prepared for her teasing before she even spoke. “The bells really do it for you, huh?”

She finished her question with a jingle of said bells.

A choked laugh left him. Moving closer, Rolan brought her flush against his body. “The one attached to the bells is the reason behind my affection, if you must know.”

She laughed, breathless, her fingers brushing against the back of his neck before disappearing into his braided hair. “Be careful or we’ll be giving the guests a different type of show.”

“Let them see if they wish to look.” Rolan rested his forehead against hers, uncaring about the guests or her friends or even his siblings when she was watching him with that cheeky expression. “They should know how lucky I am.”

She flushed. He could see it against her collarbone and up her neck, across her cheeks. She was more than stunning. The glow of the magical lights made her nearly ethereal, a goddess of song and dance and happy things. “You’re charming when you want to be.”

“I’m always charming.” Rolan shifted away, enough to offer an arm, a smile on his face when she stared at him. “Care to take a walk?”

She gazed at him with suspicion, raising an eyebrow when he didn’t explain. “What more could I need than good music, excellent wine, and the people I love?”

She was teasing him. Of course she was. It wasn’t Juniper if she wasn’t poking fun at him. “Perhaps a moment alone with your favorite wizard?”

She studied him briefly, trying to discern the real reason from expression alone. He met her eyes with a lazy smirk, only for a laugh to escape her. Instead of taking his arm, she slipped her hand into his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “What makes you think Gale isn’t my favorite?”

“I won’t dignify that with a response.”

She laughed again, as melodic as her singing, and all feigned anger about his hair faded. No matter how irritated he became, whether at her or someone else, all she had to do was laugh and he forgave everything. “I’m sorry, but your hair-”

“You can say it looks ridiculous. I’ve seen it.”

She snorted before covering her mouth as if she couldn’t believe the sound came from her. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m not, but I swear there was a reason.” Juniper moved closer to wrap her arms around him, laying her cheek against his chest, the gesture simple yet powerful. She trusted him beyond anything he’d ever expected and he wrapped his arms around her, feeling her warmth pressed against him.

Brushing his lips against the spot between her horns, he sighed, a quiet happy sound. “You always have your reasons, don’t you?”

She giggled, the laughter rumbling into his own chest, and he couldn’t stop from grinning. He truly didn’t care what the reasons were. Only that he got to hold her at the end of the day.

“Well, you know how Alfira was overwhelmed with students at the school and I offered to take Mirkon on for her?”

Juniper’s bard training with Mirkon was unorthodox, but the child was learning many things from her, enough that Rolan agreed to let them practice in the Tower on the days he was tending the shop. But what did that have anything to do with this?

“Yes.”

“And do you remember how my father took Mattis on to learn how to run a business? So that one day, he might take over the instrument shop? And Silfy, with Zevlor’s Hellraiser training.”

Pieces were clicking in his brain, but he still couldn’t figure out the path they were taking. “And was it Arabella who you wished me to take on as an apprentice?”

He felt a flash of irritation at the use of silence on him. Even if he was so inclined on taking an apprentice, he might refuse now from a childish pettiness.

“No, that was Ide. She mentioned wanting to read and…” She paused, biting her lip. “It doesn't matter.”

Her hands moved up his back, tracing a path across his clothing and around to his chest, brushing his shoulders briefly until she reached his neck. Then she played with the hair that freely hung around his shoulders. The easy touch of her fingers as they unraveled the braids almost made him shiver, the gentleness with which she worked nearly undoing him immediately.

“I was wondering if they could become a more… permanent addition to the Tower?” She hadn’t looked at him with those fiery blue eyes, but he could hear the gears turning in her head. “I figured they were already practically family, why not make it true?”

When she tilted her head up, Rolan glanced at her lips, unkissed since this morning and a dangerous feeling took hold in his chest. He wanted this for the rest of his life. The teasing, the longing, the love. The half made plans and late mornings and laughter. And a family, one he could have without fear of not being worthy. Cal and Lia and a roost of rambunctious children. He wanted all of it with this frustratingly beautiful woman in his arms.

Even if those children would probably drive him to an early grave.

Leaning forward, he captured her mouth in a kiss that shook him down to his very bones. Her lips were soft, insistent as she kissed him back, her hands still gentle as she pulled him closer. He couldn’t name every feeling swirling in him, but as soon as Juniper broke away and continued to undo the braids in his hair, he knew what he wanted.

For the first time in his entire life, he wasn’t second guessing himself.

“Marry me.”

She paused in her work, eyes wide and unblinking, fingers still against the braids still in his hair.

“We can work out the details later, the Tower, the children, the future.” Rolan promised her, forehead touching hers as he forced her to meet his gaze. She was still in shock, mouth hanging partially open. “But I want it all. With you. So I’m asking you to be my wife, Juniper.”

A laugh left her in a breathless gasp, mouth curling in a smile that he would work like hell to see every single day. “You do realize what you’re getting into, yes?”

Squeezing her sides, he pressed a kiss to her nose, a soft touch that pulled a quiet noise from her. “You’ll drive me mad every day with your incapable magical skills. Your penchant for chaos is second only to the kindness in your heart. I… do not deserve your devotion, but I’m asking for it. Please, marry me.”

Juniper laughed again, louder and slightly manic, but she finally met his gaze. And the only thing he saw reflected back at him was the same love he felt. “I promise I will drive you crazy for the rest of your life, Rolan. If you think you can handle that?”

A challenge that he’d gladly take. “Try your worst.”

Her mouth was on his again, arms squeezing him closer until he could barely breathe. And he couldn’t help, but to think that it was perfect.

#my writing #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 rolan #bg3 tav #tiefling #bard tav #tav x rolan #rolan x tav #tav: juniper #juniper x rolan

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avocado-writing · 3 months

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we need a rewrite of the tiefling party where tav can actually convince wyll to join the party and have fun please 🥹

notes: love love love writing for Wyll. he's such a sweetie! Implied bard reader but not explicit.

rating: T, but there will be a spicy part 2 coming up!

The party is lively and your head is swimming from the buzz of attention. That, and the small amount of wine you’ve had: not so much as to dull your senses but enough to make you merry. Warmed with Arkhen’s Hoard you take a break from the grateful tieflings and head out towards the familiar babble of the river. The further from camp you go the quieter your surroundings get, and you’re able to breathe a little more easily knowing there aren’t half a dozen children hanging on your every word. It’s lovely to be the centre of attention because you helped them, but a little overwhelming with all those eyes on you.

Of course, that’s not the only reason that you’ve come wandering over this way.

Wyll sits with his legs crossed on the bank, staring at the way the water dances under the moonlight. He seems at peace, the calmest he’s been since Mizora appeared and sprouted those horns for him; shoulders relaxed, tensionless.

“Wondered where you were,” you say, quietly. You don’t want to make him jump after all. It hurts your heart to see the way that his body stiffens when he hears your voice. Ah: there’s the tension again. Nevertheless, he turns to look at you over his shoulder, an easy smile on his lips - but one with a hint of sadness. You’ve studied his face enough in camp in order to know when he’s trying to hide something. It makes your heart ache bitterly that he would try and hide it from you, though.

“Thought I’d be able to sneak away. Should have known you’d be able to find me.”

You take a seat next to him in the grass. It’s a soft spot he’s managed to pick, not wet from its proximity to the river, but green and lush from its plentiful feeding. You lock eyes with him and press a hand to your chest, mock-wounded.

“Wyll! You make me sound like I’m a bloodhound tracking you down, not someone who cares about you checking in.”

He laughs, and you see him begin to lighten again. When he smiles this time, it’s sincere.

“That’s not what I meant. Apologies. Just that I’m not surprised you know me well enough to guess where I’d end up.”

“Down by the river,” you hum, fingers suddenly itching for the feel of a lute’s strings.

“You’re always singing that, you know?”

“I am, it’s a good song. I’ve never once heard you complain about it.”

“I’m not complaining! I never would, I love to hear you sing. Since I joined you on this journey, my life has been filled with so much music. It’s been wonderful.”

You put your hands behind you and lean back on them, allowing your face to become level with his. He looks into your eyes and, this close, you can see his breath hitch a little when your fingers brush together.

“I could be persuaded to do an impromptu performance, but I’d need my favourite person in the front row to give me courage.”

“I’m sure that you don’t need me for that. Courage is the one thing you couldn’t possibly lack.”

“To be my muse, then.”

You know if you lifted your hand and felt his cheek, it’d be warm.

“Please, Wyll,” you continue, softly. “Please come and join us. Everybody wants you there. Me especially, if I’m being selfish.”

“Ah…” you can see he’s warring with himself. On one side of the argument, he longs to indulge you. On the other side…

“I’m not sure. I think people may find me off-putting.”

You furrow your brow.

“You? The single most charming man I’ve ever met?”

Another flash of shyness over his face. You can tell that he enjoys the compliment, but his self-doubt wins out.

“Perhaps I was, before the horns.”

“Oh, Wyll. Do you think anybody up there cares about those? A group of your friends and people you fought tooth and nail to protect? I know for a fact that Karlach wants to challenge you to a drinking game.”

“That seems like more of a reason to hide! I think she’d drink me under one of the tables,” Wyll grimaces, and smiles when you laugh at his silliness. He seems a little more open to the idea, but still not completely sold.

“I don’t know… just… the children…”

“The children who love you and hang on your every word? Umi won’t stop asking me where you are, and someone needs to keep Mol in line…”

“I doubt even the gods themselves can do that.”

When he chuckles you find yourself reaching out to cup his cheek, running your thumb over the sharp ridge that was raised there when Mizora cursed him. His eyes widen and glaze over before sliding closed, nuzzling into the gesture, soul laid bare to the sweetness of your touch.

“Nobody feels unsettled by you. Nobody is afraid of you.”

His lips fall apart, anticipating the way you reach in to kiss him.

It’s a soft kiss. Lips dancing slowly, a waltz, noses bumping together a little, his horns grazing your hairline. Your heart soars at it.

When it’s over you sit there and breathe together. Sharing the same air, letting your blood thrum through you in an intertwined heartbeat.

“Will you come and join us? Will you come and dance with me?” you ask.

Wyll loses the argument with himself.

“Yes.”

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate @dhampling @wereallbrokenangels @tilldeathdonugget

#wyll x reader #wyll x tav #wyll ravengard x reader #wyll ravengard x tav #my writing #request

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undreaming-fanfiction · 10 months

Text

Sorry for being gone for so long, I haven't been feeling great both physically and mentally, so that was awesome...anyway:

Look, Eddie wasn't that picky when it came to companions. He wasn't much of a catch either - as a bard, it was already expected of him to cause chaos, but with his choice of songs, the result was less of a bardic inspiration and more of a "turn everyone against each other" or "make everyone extremely horny". Which...actually worked when they needed to avoid combat, but by ancient gods, he didn't need to see that group of orcs going at it.

Anyways. Eddie wasn't picky, but Steven Harrington was becoming a bit too much for him.

First: he was a rich kid. Eddie was a proud trash raised in a cottage that barely held together and he had no patience for people who never washed their own laundry (not that Eddie did, well, not too often, but still).

Second: he was effortlessly handsome. Annoyingly handsome. Bad hair day? Steven fucking Harrington didn't know those. His moles were placed in perfect places. Eddie had nearly invisible freckles and his only moles were - embarrassingly enough - near his groin and if you squinted hard enough, looked like a daisy petal. So uncool. But uncool was a word Steven Harrington apparently lacked in his vocabulary.

And third...this. Just...all of this.

Eddie didn't want to think of himself as a prejudiced person, he really didn't. But there were two things he didn't like in this world: lawyers and necromancers.

And Steven somehow managed to blend both of those into a horrible combination that just. Fucking. Worked.

Eddie was strumming on his lute and watched Steven open a bag full of old bones, yet another unlucky trader, adventurer or whoever had died in the woods before them. He placed them carefully on the ground, arranging them - admirable knowledge of anatomy, Eddie would give him that - and muttered an incantation. Green light, weird whooshing, some sparkles, yadda yadda and the skeleton reassembled itself. It sat in front of Steven and they started working in hushed tones over a pre-prepared contract. Eddie could only make out phrases as "a work opportunity," "being dead must be boring," "do you have any family that could use a percentage of the spoils from this quest" and the best of all, "no pressure, if you'd rather be left alone, just say the word." From what Eddie had seen in last few weeks, very few of them did say the word, and if they did, Steven would honor his word and bury their remains where they desired.

It was a really decent thing to do and Eddie hated himself for even admitting it.

One discussion about details ("do you want to be only reassembled when needed or would you like to accompany us the whole time?") and a bony signature later, Steven carefully stuffed the newest party helper (Arthur, Steven made sure to remember all of their names, another fucking decent thing!) in the bag and stretched himself next to the fire.

Eddie couldn't help but glare. That fucking guy. Built like a fighter from carrying half of a cemetery on his back, pretty, rich and for some reason also awfully nice and moral. Eddie wanted to barf.

"You know," smiled Steven and Eddie's traitorous stomach did a triple flip with a botched landing, "I love seeing you like this. Calm. Strumming those slow melodies. You look really pretty, too." He laughed to himself and turned onto his back, staring at the stars. "Well, you look really pretty all the time, especially when you're trying not to be bitchy, but these times you look the prettiest."

Eddie almost dropped the lute. Almost swallowed his own tongue as well. "Are you trying to kill me, Harrington?" he sputtered. "Don't you have enough to resurrect?"

Steven just shook his head, smirking. "That's a thought. But no. Breach of ethics - I'm pretty sure killing someone to resurrect them wouldn't make them want to join me. Plus, I was thinking less of a "fight for me" and more like "fuck me, possibly date me" - interested?"

Eddie stared at him with large eyes, moving his lips without any sound. "Uh...well, sounds good to me," he said, not very intelligently, but his brain was chanting kiss those moles pull that hair shut him up kiss him like right now maybe. "Do you...have a contract for that?"

Grinning, Steven - no, Steve, he asked to be called that several times and maybe this was the right time to give in to his wish - pulled Eddie to the ground with him. "For you? I'm sure I can draft something."

When Gareth, Robin and Chrissy arrived back from their supply run the next morning, they found Eddie and Steve curled against each other, fully clothed but very obviously satisfied. Robin just snickered and whispered to Steve that she wanted details, all the dirty, sticky and scandalous details, but Gareth just rolled his eyes. "And here I thought you disliked the guy when you said "Fuck him," he nudged Eddie as he unpacked healing potions.

Eddie closed his eyes and hummed a new melody that came to him with Steve's touches and gentle words. "It was open for interpretation," he laughed and reached for his lute.

#steddie #steddie au #steddie drabble #steve harrington #eddie munson #fantasy au #fantasy drabble #chrissy cunningham #gareth emerson #robin buckley #stranger things #stranger things drabble #not proofread we die like my will to exist

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vixstarria · 19 days

Text

Bloodbang Chronicles - Chapter 2

Series summary:

Five years have passed since the confrontation with the Netherbrain. Astarion and his warlock lover, Asmodea, are living it up in Baldur’s Gate, running a cabaret. Their life of decadence and debauchery seems idyllic, until Asmodea’s patron disrupts it with a proposal. One that seems too good to be true. One they cannot refuse.

Part 1 | AO3 | Overall masterlist

Pairing: Astarion x Original Female Character

Genre: Humor / adventure / smut (not all in this chapter), with all the usual Astarion-related elements along the way, without getting too heavy

Rating: Explicit

Chapter word count: 1,900

Chapter summary: A flashback to how it all began, featuring cosmetics as a charisma modifier, because why the hell not?

Five years ago

The vampire had invited himself into Asmodea’s tent and now lounged, catlike, on a rug nabbed from the druid grove, lazily observing her as she applied her makeup.

The neckline of the ruffled shirt he wore allowed a peek at the ridges of his chest muscles - the overall image was reminiscent of a drawing one might find on the cover of a sappy romance novel. Or would be, had he been less gaunt. The shirt itself was also quite worn, Asmodea noted, and not just from their last few days of travel. Repaired in places, with thread that didn’t even match its colour.

Magistrate my ass, she thought. A common thief masquerading as a noble, maybe.

She still wasn’t quite sure what to make of him, though she did find his company amusing.

He certainly had a big mouth on him. …Figuratively speaking. When it came to the literal meaning it was, for all intents and purposes, rather perfectly shaped and sized, she caught herself thinking.

“Now who might you be prettying yourself up for, I wonder,” he purred. “We’re in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by goblins and gnolls.”

“It adds to my charm even with goblins, I find,” she retorted. “And I don’t see you giving Lae’zel shit for applying her warpaint.”

“Lae’zel was openly glaring at me and trimming a branch into a stake just earlier this morning,” Astarion responded. “She could wear clown paint and a pink tutu, and I wouldn’t question her. No offence, darling, but your lute doesn’t inspire the same level of caution,” he said. “…And I’ve seen how well you aim your spells,” he murmured as an afterthought.

“Is there no one else for you to bother?” she asked halfheartedly, sighing. “Perhaps you could try cozying up to Lae’zel so she doesn’t stake you? She might be interested - I doubt she’s had elf before.”

“‘Had elf’?! You say that like I’m a cut of meat,” Astarion said with mock indignation.

“You present yourself like you’re a cut of meat,” Asmodea shrugged. “With the subtlety of a mallet to the head, I might add.”

“I suppose I haven’t had githyanki either...” mused Astarion. “But no matter, Lae’zel and everyone else are such bores. But you... I sense a kinship in you, my dear. I think we are kindred spirits.”

“Kindred spirits?” she laughed. “A bard and a rogue, the biggest cliche in all of Faerun? You can do better than that!”

“Cliches exist for a reason,” he mused. “Who knows, perhaps destiny has brought us together.”

“Ah yes... I can see it now...” She snickered. “We will adventure together, gambling, thieving and whoring our way through each pub, tavern and inn on the Sword Coast, only to realise that true love had been before us all along.”

“Why of course,” he agreed. “All because at the last inn there will be-”

“Only one bed,” they said in unison.

Asmodea laughed in delight as Astarion smiled.

“Oh you are decidedly adorable!” She teased. “Shall we start a book club? I overheard Wyll and Shadowheart discussing some godawful mermaid erotica earlier, perhaps they’d like to join too.”

“Yes, I’m familiar with that one as well,” Astarion wrinkled his nose. “Too flowery for my taste. Anyway, don’t undersell yourself as merely a bard - you are really a warlock, darling.”

“Only when it pleases me to set someone on fire,” she said, nonchalantly.

“Well... You have been stirring a fire in me since the moment we met,” he said emphatically, leaning forward.

“Ahhh!!! That is absolutely awful!” She guffawed. “I will need to remember to write that down somewhere so I don’t forget. Are you sure you don’t want to give barding a go? You’d be fantastic at it, going by the amount of bullshit that comes out of your mouth.”

“I think this world is a dire enough place without me torturing a fiddle or singing,” Astarion said humourlessly. “But coming back to your ah… skillset and its nature. Should we be expecting any further demonic visits in the night? Might you be in breach of your contract, with everything that’s been going on? Not that little horns and a tail wouldn’t suit you.”

“Why the sudden interrogation?” Asmodea glanced at him with a frown.

“I thought it prudent to ask in advance in case I should expect to be delivered as a blood sacrifice to some demon,” Astarion shrugged.

“My patron is fey. No sacrifices required.” Asmodea went back to her preparations. “The contract is simple: live under the name they’ve given me, provide them with entertainment, receive powers in exchange.”

“...That’s it? ‘Be entertaining’?” his eyes narrowed. “That is the term of your contract?”

“That’s it,” she answered. “They have a particular liking for the absurd, vulgar and violent. Renditions of classical works or poetry recitals – not so much.”

“…No time limits? Penalties? Guarantees? No other conditions?”

“Look, I know it’s a shitty contract, but I was in a bit of a bind when I entered it. Quite literally,” she said defensively.

“It’s awful, darling,” Astarion tutted. “I’ve seen more complicated deals being scribbled down on napkins in taverns.”

“Do I look like a lawyer to you?” Asmodea glared at him.

“No, you look like a foxy raccoon that’s about to devour my soul,” Astarion tried to placate her. “...But quite frankly, you should renegotiate. Let me know if you ever want my help with it, I wasn’t lying about being a magistrate you know.”

Asmodea only scoffed at that.

“My patron’s been practically bouncing with excitement ever since I was snatched up onto that nautiloid - I think the ‘entertainment’ condition is very much in my favour right now.”

Astarion continued to observe her as she began pencilling a symbol on her forehead.

“May I ask why..? I do think it’s rather fetching, but... why?” he asked.

“Why what?” she asked as she concentrated on her reflection, red pencil in hand.

“The symbol in the middle of your forehead,” he rolled his eyes. “Why draw it? Is it for your patron..? But it can’t be, it’s not even the same every day.”

“It’s just for me,” she replied. Meeting his blank stare, she added: “They’re more likely to stay away from you if they think you’re crazy.”

“…Who, ‘they’?” He asked, sounding annoyed.

“Everyone,” she said, simply. “Although it doesn’t seem to work on stubborn vampires.” She breathed a laugh, meeting his gaze, before continuing. “You have some real nerve, you know: propositioning me for sex earlier, and acting like you’d be doing me a favour.” She returned her attention to the mirror. “I meant it, you know. You’re not my type.”

The sheer audacity of the proposal had nearly left her speechless when it happened, though its forwardness was growing increasingly… funny, the more she thought about it. It would have been insulting, had it not been so genuinely candid. The man truly believed that sleeping with him would be a gift bestowed by the gods.

She cursed as she botched and started to erase the symbol with her own spittle for the third time in a row.

“Oh for the love of... Here, let me.” Astarion grimaced, grabbing the pencil from her hand, and sat up, kneeling in front of her. “Hold still... And close your eyes, I’ll retouch them as well.”

She took him up on his offer. How many people could boast a vampire doing their makeup for them?

“What is your type?” he murmured softly as he worked.

“Oh you know...” She replied, pensively. “Tall, dark, burly. Thick beard, tree trunk arms, strong hands. Smelling of woodsmoke. Brutally masculine.”

His fingers felt cool on her skin as he delicately held her chin, drawing lines around her eyes. She sensed a light scent of bergamot and something earthy as he leaned toward her.

Despite herself, she wondered how his lips might feel on hers. Were they cold? Were other parts of him..? Perhaps she would find out, later. After all, why not? Why shouldn’t she add a vampire to her list of lovers?

The pencilwork stopped, but Astarion’s fingers lingered lightly under her chin. Asmodea opened her eyes to see him much closer than was reasonable or necessary.

“Exquisite,” he whispered, his gaze flicking from her eyes to her lips and back, his index finger slowly running beneath her chin, gently tilting her face upward.

Oh hells no. This was not happening now. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“You didn’t just draw a dick on my forehead, did you?” she asked.

Astarion blinked, producing a quiet little snort, creases forming around his eyes, adding to the smile that had already been on his lips.

“I thought about it, but then I remembered that you do have a reflection,” he said, leaning back away from her.

She considered his work in the handheld mirror.

“Not bad... Not bad at all,” she said, turning her gaze back on him, with a raised eyebrow.

“I have sisters,” he offered, by way of explanation.

The vampire had a family? Curious.

Astarion continued to linger as she began putting her things away.

“We’ll need something a bit more personal than that pompous name given to you by your patron, if we are to continue to travel together,” he said. “‘Asmodea’ doesn’t quite roll off the tongue. It’s nearly as bad as ‘Shadowheart’.”

“Patron business,” she shrugged. “Don’t ask me why they chose that name in particular. The contract prevents me from even suggesting anything else you might call me.”

“So I’m free to choose a nickname for you myself then? Hmm... Asmodea, Asmodea... The first thing that comes to mind is ‘Assie’,” he said with a wicked grin.

“I will blast you,” she warned, with a glare. “Darling.”

“Shame, it’s all too fitting for your charming personality... What about... Asmo... No. Momo. No...”

She groaned, throwing her head back as though praying to some god for patience.

“No, no... I have just the thing for you,” he smirked.

“By all means, humour me,” she sighed.

He continued to grin at the half-even woman before him, taking in her intricate eye makeup, the symbol drawn on her forehead, the piercings and wild orange-red locs on her head.

“My magnificent wild warlock...” He proclaimed, gesticulating with a theatrical flourish. “My darling little bard... I know who you are.”

She narrowed her green eyes at him as he booped the tip of her nose with his index finger.

“You’re Oddie.”

She clicked her tongue but otherwise said nothing, in annoyed resignation, refusing to admit she kind of liked it.

Wyll ducked into the tent.

“We’re ready to go.” He gave Asmodea an apprehensive look before continuing. “Do you have any kind of plan for how we’re going to handle this..?”

“My plan is to wing it,” she replied. “Just follow my lead, I’ve dealt with the fuckers before.” She turned to Astarion, getting up. “Come, ‘kindred spirit’. We’re infiltrating a goblin camp.”

Astarion made way to his tent to grab his own gear, pleased with the progress he’d made. Oh, this quaint little creature could continue to feign disinterest for a while longer – she would do exactly what he needed her to, in the end. There was no rush – he had days, perhaps even weeks, to reel her in – not the mere hours he was accustomed to. What a luxury.

In the meantime, though he was almost loath to admit it, this little game was... kind of fun.

Tags:

@littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny @spunky-89 @acourtofpenandpaper @yoonshope @lariatbunny @whiskeyskin @spacebarbarianweird @brabblesblog @littlejuicebox @icybluepenguin @snowfolly @wingsy-keeper-of-songs @asterordinary

#astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfic #astarion x asmodea #astarion x oc #astarion x female tav #bloodbang chronicles

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0luna123 · 5 months

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HEAR ME OUT: ATSV DnD AU:

Miles: tiefling rogue. Mostly joined because of Gwen, not knowing what's really in store.

Miles G: tiefling hand-to-hand warrior. For the sake of clarity, most call him Gonzalo. Dragged into this by his twin.

Gwen: half-elf drummer bard. Could be considered a leader. Ran away from her home, after her dad, a head guard, found out who she is: a vigilante (wrongly) accused of murder.

Hobie: elf bard? rogue? warrior? artificer? SORCERER? DRUID?! Who knows. Wields a lute. Partially lost the left side of his face, half of his left fingers and almost both his legs in an explosion. Deaf in one ear (gee I wonder why?). Joined to look after his drummer, stayed to look after the others. Makes most of the equipment his teammates wield, from grappling hooks to explosives.

Pavitr: human warrior. Joined out of support for his friends, unaware of the horrors.

Other characters, you may add things here if you want:

Miguel: once human, now cursed, more known as a "vampire" under the name of Black Widow. Actual Sorcerer.

Peter B: Traveling family man, merchant. Knows Black Widow's situation the most, but rarely anyone takes him serious. Mayday is also here.

Benjamin: human, ranged fighter, wields a gun Peni made. Private eye. Also colorblind.

Peni: human artificer, wields a mecha. Adoptive daughter of Benjamin.

The Spot: once human, mutilated in an accident and became a threat to time and space. Nobody takes him seriously as well

#atsv #atsv dnd au #dnd #dungeons and dragons #tw injury #miles morales #miles g morales #gwen stacy #hobie brown #pavitr prabhakar #miguel o'hara #peter b parker #peter benjamin parker #peni parker #the spot

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0dde11eth · 1 year

Text

5 times Geralt had to save Jaskier from a cult. And one time he had to save a cult from Jaskier

1. Jaskier joins a special choir! No its people worshiping sirens. The final test of faith is they get fed to said sirens.

2. Group of astronomers. They think that Melitele is going to take them on a flying boat and take them on a trip amongst the stars. No they are tripping on herbs and mushrooms in the middle of the woods at night.

3. Living lightly: “honestly Geralt i thought youd support this one, you always insist i have too much stuff. No the leader is just robbing his followers, and geralt has to intimidate him into giving back the elven lute.

4. pyramid schemes... oh sweet Melitele so many damn pyramid schemes.

5. a new fitness regime. Normally geralt loves the idea of jaskier working on his health. however this particular one is extremely unhealthy, has no real science to it, and a hungry jaskier is a scary jaskier.

+ 1. the order of the white flame is taken down by jaskier burning down its entire settlement, and destroying their entire belief system by writing an entire song cycle ripping it apart. No racism on jaskiers watch thank you very much.

(geralt has to prevent his feral little bard from becoming blood thirsty, its one thing to burn down a settlement, its another to attempt to beat their hate filled leader to death with nothing more than his fists and pure rage).

#my nonsense #jaskier #geralt #geraskier #feral jaskier #feral bard #oddelleths fics

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nerdestiwrites · 19 days

Text

Tales of the Shadow (Hazbin Hotel Pirate AU)

The taste of salt wasn’t something that Charlie would ever be able to get out of her mouth it seemed, even after being on land for a few days after making port. Everything had a salty taste to it, bread, meat, ale, or whatever was being passed off as ale in the small fishing port. It either was that she’d forever have the salt of the sea in her mouth for the rest of time or that salt was the only seasoning that the people of the port knew how to use. Perhaps it was a mixture of both or perhaps it was all in her head. Either way, she’d learn to live with it, and hope that the next time they docked somewhere would prove it one way or another.

Walking had gotten easier, she hadn’t fallen since the first day off the ship, even with her boots getting stuck in the muddy streets and nearly getting ripped off twice now. She’d only had to grab onto Vaggie twice for support, and once did Vaggie have to push her out of the way from a carriage nearly running her over.

It had been a better day, the best out of the three that they’d spent docked. No one had tried to rob them or proposition them in any way, and most even stopped cursing them out when Charlie would try to talk to them. She couldn’t say it was all luck or the locals starting to like the two of them, a lot of it was thanks to Vaggie. She’d stopped the would-be thieves the first day, and on Charlie's behalf, only took a finger from each to teach them each a lesson. Vaggie would’ve preferred killing them but Charlie reminded her that wasn’t what they were there for. They needed people to want to come with them.

Charlie stopped in front of a tavern that they hadn’t ventured into yet and peered inside. The door was open, or rather, hanging off one of the hinges and the activity of the day had left the piece of wood pushed aside for easy in-and-out access to the place. Laughter, shouting, a crash of glass, and another loud shout covered the music playing from the poor bard on the lute in the corner. A bottle flew past her head and out into the street. It was as good of a place to find a crew as any.

She stepped inside, took in a deep breath, and immediately made a face at the smell of the place, nearly doubled over. How it smelt a million times worse inside the building, just over the threshold of the doorway, she wasn’t entirely sure, but the smell was pungent. Vaggie took a step in after and placed a hand on her back, giving a warm half smile, “You okay?” She asked.

Charlie nodded, forced a smile as she attempted to breathe as little as possible while inside the tavern, and stood straight again. She adjusted the hat on her head and cleared her throat. “Right, should we split up again? That sorta worked yesterday. We at least got people to talk with us-”

“Absolutely no more splitting up in places like these. Did you forget how yesterday ended?” Vaggie interrupted as she led the others toward the bar. Best to get a drink before they start harassing the customers of the establishment. She was hoping they wouldn’t get kicked out, again, like they had been from every other tavern in the small fishing village. Vaggie was honestly surprised there were so many, and that they didn’t talk amongst one another and just had her and Charlie's faces plastered outside yet with a DO NOT SERVE written on top of the paper.

“Oh, it wasn’t that bad! The guy seemed like he genuinely wanted to join!” Charlie sighed, the optimism still shining through. This had to work, they needed a crew willing to go on this journey with them. Surely there’d be people who wanted to.

Vaggie laughed at that and shook her head as she handed a mug of ale over to the blonde and placed a few silver pieces down on the bartop for the barkeep. She sipped the liquid, it was a poor attempt at ale, but it’d do the intended purpose of getting one drunk. “I keep telling you, the promise of treasure is much more enticing than just the promise of adventure.”

Charlie looked into the mug, spun the contents of it around slightly, and sipped it. She gagged at the taste and the mug was placed down on the bar as she shook her head. “But I don’t know if there will be treasure. It’s- We’re- I don’t want to lie!”

“It’s not lying per se, it's avoiding the unknown truth! There could be treasure.” She pointed out as she let a smile on her face at the other's reaction to the taste of the drink, “Besides, who knows how long it’ll actually take to find it? There’s bound to be some sort of gain between now and then.”

“Well, I guess that’s true.” Charlie huffed once. Then she felt a pat on her shoulder that caused her to look up at the other woman and she smiled, nodding once. “Okay, I guess we’ll try it that way… and if we don’t find any treasure along the way, it’s not like they’re not gonna get paid. I do want it to be worth their efforts.”

Vaggie gave another pat to the other's shoulder and nodded, downing the rest of her glass and grabbing onto the full one that had been placed down, replacing it with the now empty mug. “Right, well, if we don’t find anyone in this fishing town, there’s another one three days down the coast. After that, we’ll have to turn around and head north and try there.”

Charlie looked over at the patrons of the tavern, eyes scouring to try and find someone, anyone who she might get to join their crew. While she and Vaggie could sail the ship up and down the coastline easily, as long as the weather permitted, anything out on the open ocean needed a full crew. Even if the person didn’t know how to sail, they could teach them. Just extra hands.

“Or we could always tell them what it is you’re actually looking for.” Vaggie offered and that earned her a gentle hit against her arm, causing some of the ale to splash out of the mug and onto the wooden floor below, adding to the already sticky layer.

Charlie leaned back against the bar and ran both hands over her face. “I’m pretty sure that would mean fewer people would want to join our crew Vaggie! We can’t just tell them that we’re searching for the Shadow ship! Most people think that it’s just a myth and those who don’t are terrified of it.”

“Yeah, but it’s not a myth. Your dad went missing years ago searching for it?” The mug of ale was placed down and instead, Vaggie grabbed onto Charlie's hands and pulled them from the blonde's face, squeezing them. “And you say you’re certain he’s still out there somewhere. Some people just want to be known as the person to find it. Some might believe the myth of whoever finds the Shadow ship becomes the captain of the Shadow itself.. That’s plenty enough to entice some people.”

Charlie stared into Vaggies eye as she took in a deep breath to help ground herself, squeezing both of the other woman's hands. She opened her mouth to say something but a different voice cut her off.

“I do apologize but I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation just now.” A tall man stood in front of the two women, and Charlie couldn’t remember seeing him inside the tavern or how he approached without either one of them noticing. “But, the topic of the Shadow ship has been an interest of mine for quite some time.”

The man was well dressed, especially for the place they all stood in. Vaggie was immediately suspicious of him, her hands let go of Charlie and one rested on the hilt of her sword, lax but ready to react in an instant if needed. The ears on top of his head flicked once, almost in response to her actions, which caused her to stand straighter as well.

Charlie, on the other hand, didn’t seem to notice either action and she stood up off the bar with a newfound excitement in her eyes. “Yes! We’ve been trying to get a crew together to go after it, find it!”

As Vaggie stared at and studied the man in front of them, the more she began to recognize him. She placed a hand on Charlie's shoulder gently to try and lead her back and away, to get her to leave the tavern entirely if possible, as her other hand now tightened on the hilt of her sword. Charlie didn’t take the hint and instead took a step forward, putting her own hand out for the man to shake. “I’m Charlie, this is Vaggie, my sailing master and first mate!”

“Alastor, a pleasure to meet the both of you.” He took Charlie's hand into his own, brought it up to his lips, and pressed a polite kiss to her knuckles.

Charlie smiled at the action and once her hand was released, she grabbed onto Vaggies, pulling it away from the hilt of her sword. Alastor kept his gaze at both their faces, both hands returning to the top of the cane as he nodded and spoke up once more. “If you have the space for three, I have two…friends… that would be joining me if you would have us.”

“Yes! Of course, we do!” The blonde said immediately, much to Vaggies dismay.

Alastors smile widened, “Brilliant! I promise that all of us will be a great deal of help on the ship, Niffty will ensure no rodents or vermin of the like survive past the first day of sailing, and Husker is a rather fine bartender and is a rather grand navigator.”

“Charlie I really think-” Vaggie started but was interrupted by the blonde.

“Okay! We were planning on leaving in two days. Tomorrow I can give you a tour of the ship, we can get all of your stuff moved onto the ship and figure out a real plan on where we’ll be heading next!”

Alastor nodded as he bowed slightly. “We’ll meet tomorrow then, at noon?” He suggested.

Charlie nodded. “Noon is perfect.”

With just as quickly and silently as the tall man had arrived, he left without another word. Vaggie let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding the entire time and grabbed onto both of Charlie's arms, turning the blonde to face her. Charlie’s lips turned upwards into a wide smile, she jumped up and down a few times as she grabbed onto Vaggies shoulders to try and keep herself from freaking out too much. “Someone actually wanted to join us!”

Vaggie watched her jump. She didn’t want to ruin the excitement that the blonde held and didn’t want to cause the other to worry but she was concerned about the new crew members that Charlie had just hired on.

“You do know who that was, right Charlie?” She asked.

That caused Charlie to have a look of confusion cross her face and she shook her head. “No? Who was that?”

“That was Alastor Altruist, one of the most feared Pirate Lords.” Vaggies voice lowered to a whisper, careful not to let anyone around them hear her words.

It was like the air was ripped from the building and like everything had gone silent. “Oh.”

꒷꒦︶꒦꒷✧꒷꒦︶꒦꒷

The sun shined down and waves gently crashed against the ship's hull. Despite the nice weather and clear skies, the air was thick with nervousness and anxiety. Charlie couldn’t exactly go back on her invitation to the pirate lord Alastor onto her ship, on the adventure. They needed to help, and if he knew as much as he said he knew about the Shadow ship, then his help would greatly improve their chances of actually finding it. Vaggie had promised that if he even seemed like he had any ulterior motives she’d kill him, that was the only way he’d be allowed on the ship, so Charlie agreed to it.

The fishing village had long since started its day, a new ship had arrived with different supplies and trading goods and was already being filled with new cargo to be traded with wherever it made port next. Fishermen had been out and back twice already in search, hauling back different quantities of fish with varying qualities.

Charlie paced back and forth on the ship, her hat on top of her head and she took in a few breaths. It was going to be fine. Alastor the pirate lord hadn’t been heard from in years, everyone had assumed he had died, his ship sunk, and that was the end of it. Yet there he had been, asking for a spot on her ship. This meant that he was missing his ship somehow, so something must’ve happened. Was he going to try and steal her ship? Once they were out on the open sea, was he going to cause a mutiny, throw her and Vaggie overboard? He hadn’t given that impression but she had been just excited that anyone was interested in joining.

That was why she was always so thankful that Vaggie was by her side. Without her, Charlie was certain she would’ve gotten into infinitely more trouble and misunderstandings that she wasn’t entirely sure she’d be able to get out of. As she thought of the conversation from last night, she now could see that Vaggie had tried doing the same there as well but Charlie hadn’t listened or paid any attention to it. Now they needed to deal with the subsequent outcome, whether that be good or bad.

Focusing on the good, Alastar truly was interested in the Ship as well, and truly just wanted to help her find it. He might not understand that the only reason she was after the ship was because of her father, but still, he had offered not only his help but the help of two more people as well. He was allowed to have his own interests in the Ship, two people with a common interest could get a lot done.

Now with the man being not only just a pirate but a pirate lord could hold problems on its own. Especially if they ran into the Royal Navy. Her father hadn’t been the Crown's most favorite person, though he never told her why, and he had always been on the run from the Royal Navy himself until he settled down on the small island she grew up on. Luckily for her, no one knew who she was, just someone interested in the ocean myths, searching for her father. No ties to the navy or pirates alike, or at least, she didn’t have ties. With Alastor joining her crew, ties were created. Perhaps if they ran into the royal navy she could convince them that he had turned over a new leaf, that he was no longer a pirate. Wishful thinking.

If they ran into other pirates, Alastors' reputation might be helpful. He would know what to say to make them not attack or to leave them alone. Or they might see him and just decide not to mess with them entirely, which would be the preferred option. The actual preferred option would be not running into any pirates and being left alone entirely while on the adventure but she doubted that would be the case. They needed to be prepared for any and all scenarios possible.

Which was why Vaggie had insisted on having weapons on board, for protection against pirates and the navy alike, just in case she had said. Cannons, guns, gunpowder, swords, and knives alike. Charlie had been practicing her sword fighting with Vaggie every morning for an hour before they went on with their day and she was getting pretty good if she had been honest with herself. That or Vaggie was going easy on her.

“Heya toots!” A voice called out over the crash of waves that caught Charlie out of her thoughts and she stopped pacing. She looked out to the docks and noticed someone she didn’t recognize standing there waiting to be granted access to the ship. “Heard you were lookin for some hands, lucky for you I got four and I’m really good at usin ‘em!”

Charlie blinked a few times and watched as the man held up his four arms and flashed a toothy grin, the sun glinting off a golden tooth. She immediately smiled back and waved at him to board the ship. “You want to join my crew?”

“Been lookin for a way out of this small village for a while!” He walked up the board onto the deck and stuck one of his arms out for the blonde to shake. “I’m Angel, nice to meetcha!”

“Charlie! Nice to meet you!” She shook his hand with enthusiasm and nodded. “You’re just in time, we’re leaving tomorrow morning!”

“Sooner the better,” Angel said as he looked around the ship, his lower set of arms and hands rested on his hips. As he looked out over the small fishing village, he cleared his throat and pointed down at the docks, “Know them?”

Charlie looked back down at the docks and smiled brighter as she saw Alastor standing there with a catman standing on his left and a much smaller woman with one eye standing on his right. “Alastor! Welcome aboard!”

Alastor walked up onto the ship first followed by the two others. None of them seemed to be carrying any bags or personal items at all and Charlie wondered if Alastor had changed his mind. Showing up might have been just a polite thing to do, to tell her in person that he had changed his mind and the three of them wouldn’t be joining. It wouldn’t be the best news but Vaggie would feel relief and at least they had one person joining it seemed.

She felt nervous, more so now that there was a practical stranger standing on the deck as well. Would Angel recognize Alastor? Would he care that Alastor was a pirate? Would he change his mind about joining? “Charlie, this is Husker and Niffty, the friends I was telling you about last night.” Alastor introduced them.

Niffty smiled brightly up at Charlie and stepped forward, studying her closely before her eyes began scouring the deck for any movement. Husk grunted once as he lifted a bottle up to his lips, taking a sip from it as he fluffed his wings out a bit. It was clear he wasn’t a fan of the bright sunny day as one of his wings extended slightly to try and block the sun rays from his face.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both!” She said before stepping to the side and allowing more access onto the deck of the ship. She motioned for Angel to take a step forward and gave an encouraging smile. “This is Angel, he said he’s interested in joining us as well! Angel, this is Alastor, Niffty, and Husker!”

Alastor looked over at the stranger, the smile never leaving his face as he looked the other over once before nodding. “Pleasure to meet you as well, I am happy to hear that this little crew is growing. By the end of the week the ship will be filled to the brim I am sure. Shall we begin the tour of the ship?”

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