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listen I expected literally Nothing from the D&D movie okay, like I can't make it clear enough that I expected the most soulless money grab with a good cgi budget imaginable, I went in having already gone through every stage of grief and landed on acceptance and LISTEN
I fucking CRIED during this dumb RPG movie. it wasn't just "not terrible" it was objectively good with a clever plot and compelling characters and sincere emotional beats. this movie loves D&D so fucking much and it NAILS the "a bunch of goobers try to be cool and accidentally discover The Power Of Friendship And Also Great Violence" classic D&D party vibe. their barbarian's last name is fucking Kilgore and my entire family cried in the theater.
I hope they make twelve of these motherfuckers.
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plumadot · 2 months
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i don't think i ever shared the full arts of my dnd character on this blog for some reason??? this is roselle she's a little bard who made a pact with a fey creature for the power to make her drawings come to life!!! :D and now she's lost in barovia :'))))))) all of this art is almost two years old but i still like it!!!
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spacebarbarianweird · 2 months
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Hello Darling
Summary: Tiriel desperately searches for Astarion as he loses his immunity to sunlight.
Pairing: Astarion x OC (Tiriel)
Tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, post-game, named Tav, established relationship, f!tav, patch 6 update
Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!
Read on AO3
Masterlist
Headcanons
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The burn left from the fight and dulled by the tadpole pierces  Tiriel’s stomach and she falls to her knees, paralyzed by the pain.
 It's over.
The tadpole is gone. She is free. She will never become a mind flayer, she will never have to face  that blasted dream visitor. 
Then, she hears the scream. It's a cry of pain, of despair, familiar and shocking.
Astarion is burning in the sunlight.
His beautiful face is gray like ash, his eyes white as if he were blind. Astarion reaches out his hand for Tiriel as if she could save him from  this peril. She has saved him so many times, she can do it again!
But her own pain pierces her body. Tiriel presses her arms to her stomach. She is going to die, she thinks. They both are.
"Astarion, hide!" someone cries out, and Tiriel loses consciousness.
The blissful darkness takes her.
No nightmares, no horrors, no dream visitors. Nothing. Just beautiful nothingness.
She wakes up in a dimly lit room. Her head hurts as if her skull had been crushed by a hammer. She is half naked, her belly heavily bandaged. The throat is sore and her legs are numb.
Tiriel is so exhausted she could sleep for a few weeks.
Four months of non stop traveling. Of fear, anxiety, and never ending stress. Tiriel had never had to make so many decisions in her life. Excusing orders, negotiating, and planning. She is just a lonely traveler, for fuck sake, not a warlady!
And now she can just rest.
The memories slowly crawl into her head and she remembers Astarion’s desperate cry.
A wave of panic  crushes her.
Where is he?!
Tiriel’s only known him for four months, but she is sure they were meant to meet each other. She had never loved anyone before him. His cold body, his pale skin, his sharp mind, his… radiant hope. 
What if he died?
Tiriel makes herself sit up. The idea that her love turned into ashes horrifies her. He was in such pain, he was so afraid. What if he is gone?
Life is truly unfair, isn’t it?
It couldn’t end well. No happily “ever after” for the undead.
Tiriel makes an effort to calm herself down. There are many places to hide. Basements, houses, debris… The whole city is in ruins, he has enough shadow to hide in…
The other realization makes her sick.
Sunlight isn’t his only enemy anymore. He also can’t go inside without an invitation.
He could have burned down in front of the open door to the darkest room in Baldur’s Gate because no one invited him in!
Still dizzy, Tiriel puts on her camp clothes (no need to attract unnecessary attention with her shiny Drow armor) and rushes outside the inn.
The city has been truly destroyed by the Netherbrain, and whatever future lies ahead Baldur’s Gate will never be the same. 
Tiriel wanders the street for hours—she visits the graveyard, the ruins of the vampire lord’s mansion, dozens of places but  Astarion is nowhere to be seen.
He’s known the city for centuries. Tiriel, whose first impression of the city was ruined by the mind flayers, stands no chance of finding the vampire.
By the end of the night, she feels like a lost child. Tiriel hasn’t felt so miserable since the day she woke up in the mountains all alone and cold. She was fifteen, and her rage blurred her mind making her run away from an abusive household. She wanted to go back, to the warmth of the house, to sit by the fireplace even if her stepfather would have beaten her again. To just be somewhere she belongs, not in the middle of nowhere with no weapons or armor.
The sun is slowly rising above the sea and the skies slowly turn blue. Tiriel sniffs. She's gotten too used to NOT being alone, a very unfamiliar concept to be honest. 
Well, if Astarion isn’t back, if she fails to find him, she will have to go. This city makes her sick, it’s too big, too dirty, too crowded. She will walk the roads of Faerun just like she has ever since she was fifteen. The memories will fade and she will probably question why she fell for Astarion in the first place. He is a difficult person, traumatized, angry, his bruises and wounds are invisible to anyone, and the facade of lies is inseparable from his personality.
Tiriel’s heart sinks at the very thought she might not ever see him again.
A tear flows down her cheek and she immediately wipes it away. She is a warrior. A barbarian. No one must see her cry or in pain. Women like her are alive as long as people perceive them as emotionless marble statues. Weakness turns people like her into victims.
But it felt so nice to be weak in Astarion’s arms. To let him tend her wounds, to cry in his arms… He would never admit it, but she knew he loved protecting her.
The night search exhausts Tiriel and she returns to her room in the inn. The warrior locks the door — she doesn’t want to deal with intruders —and falls on the bed, pressing her face against the pillow.
Astarion is gone. If he is alive, she will never find him. If he is dead, she will never bury him. In any case, Tiriel the Barbarian is on her own again.
She  makes herself a promise not to fall for anyone ever again.
When she wakes up hours later, her head doesn’t ache anymore and her whole body feels rested. 
“Hello darling”
She startles at the familiar voice.
Astarion lies beside her, with the palm of his hand under his cheek. His eyes are soft and tender and he has the stupidest smile shining on his face.
“You…” she gasps. “You are back!”
“Of course I am”, Astarion leans to her and kisses her forehead, and then rests his head on the pillow. “You are so adorable when you sleep.”
“I thought you died,” she whispers. “Where were you?”
Astarion touches her cheek. “I was hiding.”
“But you could have returned to the inn once the night fell! I was looking for you!”
His face darkens. “It’s because of hunger. It…blurred my mind. The sun damaged me and once I got to the shadow I was starving and just forgot everything. Who I was, who you were. I fed on… something… I don’t remember what and my mind returned to me. And I was so embarrassed by what I truly am and was afraid to come back”
“But you did.”
“I did.”
They lay in silence contemplating each other’s faces. Tiriel's heart melts at how adorable he looks. He doesn’t pretend, doesn't play, doesn’t act. That’s him, that’s the real him. Hidden and concealed for two hundred years.
“How did you get inside?” she asks. “This isn’t the room we lived in. I thought you needed an invitation?”
Astarion shrugs. “I do need to be invited if I don't want to bump into an invisible wall I can’t go through. When I picked the lock I was sure I would just stand there unable to enter. But apparently… I was invited anyway.”
Tiriel nuzzles his collarbone and wraps her arms around him.
“Tiriel?”
“Hm?”
“You aren’t going to… break up with me, right?”
His voice sounds so helpless and vulnerable that it makes Tiriel hug him tighter. 
“Of course not.”
He cups her cheeks and kisses her. Tiriel leans to him pressing their bodies against each other.
Then Astarion starts talking.
He speaks about freedom, the future, the places they may visit, and things they can do.
“Tiriel”
“What is it, my love?”
“I need to… rest. Can you stay by my side until I wake up?”
Tiriel kisses the tip of his nose. “Sure. I will be right there.”
Astarion buries his nose in her chest, and Tiriel lulls him to his trance.
As she promised, she doesn’t go anywhere. Time to time she moves a bit not to let her limbs stiff.
Then, she notices Astarion slowly waking up. His eyelids are half-open, his mouth cracks a smile. Tiriel draws an invisible line along his nose.
“Hello, darling,” she whispers to him.
--
Tag list
@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume @brainfullofhotsauce @coffeeanddonutscafe @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen
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dishsaop · 2 months
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the thing abt astarion and baldurs gate 3 is that while i do like astarion, hes an interesting character with some cool plots, im fairly neutral on him compared to most of the cast. but. he rolls over a 30 nine times out of ten when lockpicking and disarming traps. which suits my playstyle so well.
when i started playing the game i first tried to regularly swap out characters (habits kept from rpgs where characters not in the party dont level up/dont level up as fast) but i realized pretty fast that the flouncy traumaguy is actually so useful. hes really reliable in battle and he destroys traps and locks with so much ease i just Cant leave him at camp. he disapproves of 95% of what i do bc im trying to smooch karlach this run, but im spending all my gold to put him in schmancy little outfits that keep him from getting one-shotted.
hes my little purse dog. if a purse dog had a gun and a set of lockpicks. sure im allergic to dogs and this dog hates me whenever i open my mouth, but look at him, look at how cute the gun is in his little paws when he snipes mind flayers.
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knife-gnome · 2 years
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We have names and classes!
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originalcontent · 5 months
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I can't find art of my ship anywhere so I GUESS that means I have to make it myself, here are some doodles.
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palilious · 8 months
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Take Your Daughter to Work Day @escapedaudios
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darlingrini · 7 months
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More of my DnD character Vanilla cause all I got is DnD doodles and I wanna share art TwT !! Its been TOO LONG SOB- (Vanilla is my barbarian fairy whos been isekai'd from a destroyed earth and is currently dealing with grief but also is now a chaotic demon fairy who is resistant to fire :D)
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ride-a-dromedary · 5 months
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The tempests and storms that lurk just beneath Halsin's skin; how ferociously he defends those who cannot defend themselves; how protection and defense is sometimes messy and blurry and blinded by fury even when coming on the heels of passion; how he chooses to be placid and calm and gentle - how he insists that violence is not always the answer - but poke the bear one too many times and he will maul you, no hesitation.
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reborrowing · 3 months
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dust prince, part one
poll story! they were kind of a trend when tumblr first added the poll feature so now that the concept is dying I thought I'd give it a shot. we'll see how well I stay on top of this. (there may be some weirdness because I'm still not sure if I want "you" to be just the rogue or both adventurers. For today? Rogue.)
rough sketch of the you's
part 2 -
In the middle of a long and lonely road sits a tavern. It's been here longer than any one person can remember, some even say it's older than the kingdom that now claims these grounds.
You are a fragment of a heroic party, a once-refined rogue shadowing a proud barbarian as you limp back towards society. You're both relieved to see this shabby, familiar tavern as you make your way through the sparsely populated wetlands. While the two of you have put yourselves in much more dangerous situations, passing through the area in such small numbers has been unpleasant at best.
But inside, the tavern is warm and blessedly dry. A silver-haired halfling at the counter greets you, while an invisible set of hands continues working behind her. You dimly recognize her as the owner and remember she makes some fairly impressive potions, if you had the coin to burn. For now, you take the cheapest meal that’ll satisfy you and sit near the fire to bicker over what to do next, as if the two of you hadn’t already exhausted the topic over the last few days.
You’ve worked together for years as part of the same party but the de facto leader recently decided to retire. Your party continued to work without her, until this last job, where the other two bastards abandoned you mid-quest when they got offered a more lucrative opportunity. Now you’re left to either find replacements out here in the middle of nowhere or slink back home with nothing to show for your efforts.
The barbarian is sizing up the handful of other patrons present, discussing their potential with all the subtlety of a flaming brick through a window. It’s getting you both looks and you doubt any of them will want to work with the two of you at all. You’re about to interrupt and say so to your companion when the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Your well-honed senses were trying to get your conscious mind to pay attention to something important.
You look up to see shifting dust in the rafters just as something falls off one of the beams. You lean to get out of the way before you even identify the object. It lands in your soup with a yelp, splattering broth across the table.
It thrashes for a few seconds, trying to find its bearings. If the small scream wasn't enough to confirm it, you're now definitely sure this thing is alive, though you don't recognize what it is. As you look down at it, you would almost swear it's a sprite of some sort, though without their distinctive glow.
It's about the size of a mouse with the face of a person. He's too drenched and frantic for you to notice much else. He stares back at you with fear in his eyes as he pulls himself onto a sinking piece of bread.
taglist @da3dm @mottinthemainpot @whumpsday
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stupidjaguar · 7 months
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Cats cats cats and more cats
Concepts of tabaxi barbarian from Chult, who's great-auncle (my once an archfey warlock Caramel) became an archfey and gifted their descendants with some fey magic as a treat. And for shits and giggles too. But they are especialy found of their's older sister's grandkid.
And later realization of what said archfey great-auncle is paralleling so much things from my khajiit HoK, Muraba. I love some butterfly themed madcats….
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akisell · 12 days
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Made a barbarian with lycanthropy in her blood for a souls themed dnd campaign!! 😋
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konfizry · 11 months
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AND
the sheer sexual horror of ganon now manifesting in the overworld as eyes and hands
eyes
and 
hands
EYES. 👁️
HANDS. 🖐️
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Note
Hey! It's my birthday today and it's been really good but it's been kind of the first birthday I've ever properly celebrated with my chosen family and friends in a long time since a lot of trauma/ab*se, and I really hope it wouldn't be too much to ask (take as long as you need obvs) for some headcanons with a Tav that isn't going to celebrate on their birthday, but Astarion makes it special for them somehow and maybe they agree it's Tav's 'first' birthday 🥹🥹🥹👉👈
I love all your work and eagerly await your posts, they make my day 🥰🥰🥰
Hi! Hope you will like it! Now, Tiriel's birthday is also in autumn!
Birthday Gift
Summary: Tiriel has no idea when her real birthday is and she's never receieved birthday gifts. Astarion finds it outrageous.
Pairing: Astarion x OC (Tiriel)
Tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, post-game, named Tav, established relationship.
Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!
Read on AO3
Masterlist
Headcanons
TW: a mention of abuse
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Tiriel looks around.
Autumn.
Leaves are turning red and yellow, the winds are cold and promise winter. 
It’s beautiful, though the barbarian feels uneasy – the childhood memories. Winters are merciless in such wild places as the Sunset Mountains. Hunger, sickness, death… Sometimes her stepfather, a cruel chieftain, would order to leave certain people outside (too old, too weak) – to let them die and not waste scarce food. 
He would often pull Tiriel outside when the autumn winds were particularly harsh and say: “Look at this, pixie girl, I can just order not to give you any food and you will die like a stray cat. But I am merciful – I told your mother I’d save your pathetic half-blood life!” With these words, he would let her go and Tiriel would run to hide somewhere dark and safe.
She was lucky there were no harsh winters during her childhood. She would be the first to be deprived of food and warmth.
Only half a human. The result of an affair between her mother and an unknown elf. She still wonders why she was spared in the first place. It would have been so easy to murder a newborn girl.
They didn’t.
They kept her.
Maybe it was a superstition that elven children would become evil spirits once they died, or fear that Tiriel’s elven relatives would return. 
Those are questions without answers, Tiriel knows that.
Maybe there was a moment when her mother loved her. Maybe there was a moment when Tiriel’s stepfather really did forgive his wife. 
Tiriel doesn’t have happy memories from her childhood. It’s all too dark and miserable.
And autumns like this remind her of it.
“Hello, darling,” Astarion grins, returning to the road from the woods. His shirt is stained and he licks his lips. 
“What was it?” she asks.
“A boar. Didn’t expect I’d jump on it from the tree.”
Tiriel smiles as she wipes his face from blood and brushes his messy curls. Astarion doesn’t see himself in a mirror and, of all forms of intimacy, he especially cherishes being taken care of. Brushing his hair, cleaning his face, making sure he looks beautiful.  
Two years. Two years of her own happy memories. Where she has a person to talk to, to hold, to love. Astarion is a troubled person, but Tiriel loves him at his worst and at his best.
Astarion rubs her ear, forcing her to giggle.
“Let’s go?” he suggests. “The weather is getting worse, I want to spend the next few days somewhere warm!”
“It’s five miles to Longsaddle if I’ve read the map properly.”
Astarion takes her hand, and Tiriel feels how warm it is thanks to the boar blood. 
“Then we will meet the sunrise in a comfortable bed!” Astarion chuckles. “And in each other’s arms.”
“I doubt they have good beds there, so far from Luskan and other big cities.”
“We have low standards, you and I. As long as there is a blanket and a bed, we are fine, Besides I love using your breasts as my pillow.”
Tiriel bursts into laughter and receives a peck on the cheek.
Unfortunately, it can’t stop bad memories.
… Her siblings asked her to help them with something on a cliff. She followed them, only to be violently beaten by her older brothers. Tiriel even thought for a moment they were going to rape her, but, instead, they pushed her down to certain death.
Tiriel woke up in dirt and blood, with her arm broken in half, shivering and coughing. 
And with a cave bear ready to murder her. 
That’s when Tiriel felt rage for the first time.
It filled her veins with fire. Tiriel barely remembers what happened that night but she knows she killed that bear– and was left with facial scars. Then she came back, limping and bleeding. She thinks she fought someone, maybe one of her brothers or the chieftain and then she ran.
She ran into the mountains woods – no armor, no weapon, only rags and bare feet. 
Then she collapsed on the ground, hurt and scared in the middle of the woods, forever lost.
Tiriel remembers that moment vividly. 
A young girl who had barely hit puberty (because half-elves grow slower) woke up all alone and cried like a child. Then she got up and walked, dying of cold and hunger. 
Two days later she was found by a group of adventurers who sort of adopted her as their party child. An old halfling washed Tiriel’s hair and healed her wounds. A water genasi cooked the girl food and offered the warmest blankets. 
And the tiefling paladin asked Tiriel what her name was.
“My sweet, I thought it was me who tends to wander into dark thoughts,” Astarion squeezes. “Remembering your misfortunate youth again?”
“Yes. Just – similar. To what it was back then. The same autumn when I ran from home. The same autumn when I got my name.”
Tiriel, the little girl told the party. My name is Tiriel.
Astarion does the same thing he always does when he wants to support Tiriel.
He gives her a hug.
“Hush, Tiriel,” he murmurs. “You will never be alone again.”
Triel relaxes. That is her Astarion – a simple hug, a kiss, an embrace, and her nightmares perish.
He pulls away and Tiriel catches his most adorable smile – he doesn’t pretend, doesn’t show off, doesn’t perform. That’s real him.
“I want to kiss you,” he says.
She nods. They don’t have to ask permission to do things with each other. Kisses, hugs, grabbing hands, touching intimate parts – but they still do.
Tiriel asks if she can kiss Astarion.
Astarion states he wants to kiss her.
Simple as that.
Permission and declaration.
Astarion grazes her lips. He is in his predatory mood, when Tiriel just needs to accept whatever is going to be done to her. His strong hands grab her shoulders and tug at her.
Astarion finally breaks the kiss and stares at Tiriel for a few moments.
“I am not going anywhere,” Tiriel murmurs.
“I know, Tiriel. You are mine and I am yours,” Astarion presses his forehead to hers. 
They go down the hill and find themselves on a road that connects scarce towns and settlements far from the Swords Coast. The road is more or less walkable but it soon will be washed out due to rains. Tiriel notices Astarion’s visible disgust.
“Honestly darling, we should have stayed in Baldur’s Gate and lived a life of comfort!” he chuckles.
“You would die of boredom – besides I thought you’d had enough of that place.”
“True, but there are many other comfortable places! Tiriel, you deserve to wear a nice gown made of the best fabrics and sleep in a huge master’s bed where I will ravish you till you beg me to stop.”
Tiriel turns around to see her partner better. “And then I would die of boredom. Astarion look at us – I am a nomad and you were enslaved for so long you deserve to see the world.”
“It doesn’t mean I can’t whine and complain!”
“You can whine and complain all day long, Astarion. Why even bother to be in a relationship, if you can’t do this?”
They bicker and laugh for the next hour until they see a town ahead. Despite it being close to midnight, the town doesn’t sleep and is rather festive.
“What is going on here?” Tiriel asks a passerby as they enter the town. “Some local celebration?”
“It’s our duke’s first son’s birthday,” the woman shrugs. “Not like we care about the spoilt brat but you can’t say ‘no’ to a celebration right?”
The woman disappears in the crowd and Tiriel points at the stalls.
“Astarion, look! So many sweets! Oh, and there are fireworks!”
Astarion looks distant, as if something plagued his mind.
“Love, what is it?” She asks and feels a wave of anxiety. What if it’s too much? Feasts like this used to be his hunting grounds, what if he has a painful flashback?
Two years against two centuries is almost nothing.
“Tirie,l” he finally asks. “When is yours?”
“What?”
“Birthday. I know this is a huge deal for humans and the ones who grew up with them.”
“I don’t know.”
Astarion looks at her with shock.
“You… what?”
“I don’t know when mine is, I was never told. Neither a date nor a month.”
“Oh,” Astarion didn’t expect this answer. “Well, at least you know the year, right?”
“I don’t.”
Astarion raises his index finger as if wanting to point at something, but then he shakes his head in disbelief.
“We have been together for two years and you are telling me now that you don’t… how old you are?!”
Tiriel ponders a bit.
“Well, I know it was 1472 DR when I ran away, I was told by the party who adopted me… and I had had my first blood only two months before that. But I am a half-elf and it took me longer to grow up… So I think I was… fifteen? Maybe, sixteen… Or fourteen? Definitely not sixteen… Because my older brother was sixteen… Damn, I don't really know. Don’t bother.”
“Darling, I can’t not bother with the fact that I don’t know how old you are!”
“You say it as if I was one of those little girls who look older than they are and get their one-night stands in trouble!”
“It’s not that, Tiriel! It’s just… I don’t know… wrong!”
“It probably is.”
“It is wrong.”
“I cannot do anything about that.”
The wave of sadness drags her to the bottom of her dark thoughts.
Beatings.
Insults.
Hatred.
Pain.
All at once, since she was born.
Suddenly, she is a little girl again – a little girl thrown outside in the autumn rain, in the wind, wearing only a nightshirt. Tiriel thinks she hears her stepfather's laughter from behind a thick wooden door as a seven-year-old half-elf who cries and begs him to let her in.
Tiriel stops. Tears prickle her eyes. Her face burns, and an adult half-elven woman who fought gods and demons starts ugly crying like a child. 
She collapses on her knees not caring about the dirt, wailing and sniffing.
“Tiriel!” Astarion drops his sack and kneels beside her. “Did I do… Did I ask… Oh, hells.”
He puts his arms under her shoulders and presses her to himself, lulling and swaying side to side. He murmurs all the words of love and care he is capable of.
“Let’s take you somewhere warm,” he finally says, helping her to get up.
Despite the fest, they manage to find an inn with a free room, a cheap and simple one. Tiriel has to go inside first to invite Astarion, and then he takes everything in his hands again making sure the innkeeper brings warm blankets and prepares a bath. 
“Love,” he says. “Look at me.”
Tiriel tries not to think about how bad she looks right now with her puffy face and snot but obliges.
“That's much better, now let’s take you to the bath”
An hour later, Tiriel submerges herself into the hot water and expects Astarion to join her, but instead he goes straight to the exit.
“Astarion!” she calls him out.
“I will be back soon, just relax while I am away, all right?”
Tiriel hates being alone. Too many dark thoughts, besides, now she feels guilty. Astarion went through hell and she dares to complain?!
Her past isn’t that bad in comparison with his. She has no right to pity herself. 
Time passes slowly, and Tiriel feels restless. What if something happened? What if there was a vampire hunter? Or something else…
When she finally decides to get out of the bath, Tiriel hears familiar footsteps.
“Close your eyes, little love.”
Tiriel obeys and then feels something soft and plush in her arms.
“Open” Astarion places his chin on her shoulder.
A plushie-owlbear.
Soft and cute, it’s a toy appropriate for a little girl to cuddle with. 
A toy she never had.
“Well,” Astarion explains. “Since you don’t know when your birthday is, it can be… today. 17 of Uktar. Happy birthday, love,” he kisses her cheek. “And I suppose we should decide how old you are.”
“Thirty-eight,” Tiriel says, doing mental math. “Let it be thirty-eight”
“Happy thirty-eight birthday, my lovely, darling girl.”
Tiriel feels like crying again. It’s just a toy, a plushie, a thing for a baby. But she was never treated as a child, she was never given toys or dolls. And this gift… is the best she could have received.
“Do you like it?” he asks carefully.
“Yes… I do love it! Thank you! Did you steal it?”
“I won it from the toymaker. Played cards with her.”
Astarion sits on the edge of the bathtub and Tiriel wraps her hands around his waist tugging him into water. He lets out a laugh.
“Darling, you know how long it will take to fully dry?”
“Eternity! And we will spend this eternity in the inn warm and safe,” Tiriel says. “Astarion, please! I don’t want to go back on the road now, so many bad memories!”
He sits in front of her fully in the water. “Ok my sweet, what else do you want for your birthday? Maybe I could return the favor and let you ride me in some place from your traumatic memories? I’ve seen a rather terrible-looking dirt of mud.”
Tiriel thinks for a while and then says. “I don't mind riding you, but maybe in the bedroom?”
“Whatever you say, darling!”
**
It’s sunlight outside, and Astarion feels the tugging feeling in his undead chest. He misses sunlight, that's true. 
Tiriel is asleep in his arms. They actually didn’t make it to the bedroom and had the first round in the bathtub, and now Astarion needs to repair his shirt and find missing buttons from a doublet. 
It causes him anxiety, but he shrugs it away.
He can lose all the buttons and rip all his clothes, and the only reaction he will receive will be Tiriel’s jokes.
Tiriel hugs him from behind, placing her cheek on his mutilated back. The plushie is pressed between their bodies as his warrior-love has decided to sleep with it. 
He actually didn’t expect her to like the toy. Initially, he was panicking and looking for something appropriate for Tiriel. A ring? A bracelet? Maybe a weapon? Maybe just something sweet? 
Everything he was putting his eyes on was off. Jewelry Tiriel would never wear, a weapon she wouldn’t fight with. 
And then he saw the toys. An owlbear plushie for a woman who is always treated like a brave hero. Who didn’t have a proper childhood? 
The first birthday gift for someone who has never had a birthday.
And Tiriel loved it so much she pressed it to her chest the moment they stopped ‘celebrating’. She wanted to give it a proper name, and they spent at least a few minutes discussing their ideas before they settled on Big Eye.
“Tiriel,” Astarion mutters knowing she is asleep and won’t wake up. “I love you. You will never be alone, I promise. I will be with you unless you grow tired of me, and I am sure you won’t. Thank you for … finding me. Saving. Helping.”
Suddenly he feels her wet lips on his scars.
“I will never grow tired of you,” Tiriel promises.
--
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asmallorb · 1 year
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I know something is going to be a massive fixation for a good long while if I find a way to tie into d&d or just fantasy roleplay in general. You did it PT, well done. 
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fischiee · 6 months
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rvb dnd game where wash is the dm and just gets increasingly angry as the game goes on bc every time church meets one of his npcs he just says “i cast brain damage” and then the whole table yells that it’s a valid spell and wash just screams internally
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