#halfling's tavern

[blujaydoodles]

#dnd #dungeons and dragons #character art #halfling #gordon ramsay meme #POV your fighter is about to ditch you for a tavern cook #the way to a halfling's heart etc etc #decided apropos of nothing that it's a Sketch Aubree Day today #actually can't believe it's never occurred to me before now to do this meme with her lmao #my OCs #aubree #dungeons and doodles #ruins of creation

[asdaricus]

A Tavern in the TTRPG of D&D is a place for people to mingle and sometimes share their confidences. In all three of these, we see a human and halfling in a discussion. Perhaps, it will be the start of some adventure or quest... by Midjourney v5

#AI Art #Midjourney #Midjourney v5 #TTRPG #Tavern #Fantasy World Tavern #halfling

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

I Want It All: Part 1

Part 2, Part 3; AO3 Link

Astarion x AsexaulBard!Tav Masterlist

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Asexual!Reader, Astarion x Bard!Reader

Flirting, Light Angst, Longing

Summary: You and Astarion had been playing this little game of yours for a while; he pretends to care, you pretend not to fall for it. It's easy, even fun at times. The trouble is, what happens the moment you can't pretend anymore?

A/N: This turned into a monstrosity. For my own sanity I need to break it up into three parts. I also apologize in advanced, the stuff in the preview won’t pop up until part 2. And please, REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THIS! I NEED VALIDATION TO LIVE!!!

Word Count: 4.8K

The day really couldn’t decide whether it was going to be terrible or tolerable. 

On the one hand, it had been pouring rain for hours, leaving you and your party drenched as you searched for some place dry to sleep. On the other hand, you were able to find an inn with more than enough rooms to accommodate all of you. On the other, other hand, rooms cost money, something that was in short supply. 

“How much does that make?” Karlach asked, placing her share into the pile. 

Gale counted out the coins. “Enough for our own rooms, but not much in the way of food.” His brow furrowed slightly. “Hold on, this can’t be right. Who forgot to pitch in?”

All eyes turned suspiciously to Astarion. 

He raised his hands in surrender. “I put down enough for the room. Food is something…you all have to deal with.”

Lae’zel gave him a hard look, the threat obvious on her features. 

“We could always share a room or two,” Shadowheart cut in. “That will at least hold us over until we can find a way to make more coin.”

A devilish smirk formed on the vampire’s lips as his eyes turned to you. “I’m not opposed to the idea. Certainly would make it easier for me to get a little midnight snack.” 

You gave a theatrical sigh. “Not tonight dear. I have a headache.” 

“Teasing minx.” 

“Can the pair of you not for ten seconds?” Wyll complained. 

You bit back a laugh, turning your gaze to the dining area of the tavern. Gods you could smell something delicious cooking over the fireplace. When was the last time you had a proper hot meal? 

It was then you turned your eyes to one of the empty corners. The solution to the issue of food suddenly became obvious. 

“Not to worry everyone,” you announced, swiping the coins from Gale’s hand. “Dinner is on me.” 

Before anyone could speak, you stepped towards the bar, making a point to put on your best smile. 

A elderly halfling woman regarded you as you approached. “What can I get you deary?”

“Actually it’s a matter of what I can do for you,” you said. “I see you have some instruments sitting much too idly.”

The old lady shrugged. “Not really. Night like this you don’t need music to bring people in.”

Your smile faltered a moment, but you pushed on. “That may be, but nothing keeps people drinking longer and deeper than a good song.”

She gave you a disparaging look. “Don’t tell me, bard right?”

“Guilty.”

“If you don’t have money for the rooms, we don’t comp that.”

You waved the comment away. “The rooms aren’t the issue. However, if you’re willing to part with a cauldron of stew, I’ll consider it payment enough.” 

Her eyes remained wary, but you knew you had her as a twitch came to her lips. “That’ll do.  Thirty minute set. You eat after.” 

She held out a hand which you took, striking the bargain. 

It didn’t take long after to secure the rooms. They were nothing fancy, but a mattress was a mattress and with the guarantee of true privacy for the first time in weeks, none of you were complaining. 

“How’s this about food then?” Karlach asked, taking a seat at one of the few tables large enough to accommodate all seven of you. 

“All taken care of,” you assured. “Just need to pluck out a quick set and we can eat.” 

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Astarion said. “I don’t mind it myself, but your songs have a tendency to be a bit, well…destructive. Frankly I’m surprised you didn’t use that cutting mouth of yours to simply insult the woman into feeding you.” 

“As it turns out, I have a little thing called restraint. Unlike some people,” you countered. 

“Oh trust me my dear, I’m well aware of that.” 

You rolled your eyes, deciding to ignore the slight twist of guilt in your stomach. 

He couldn’t seem to help making those kinds of jabs ever since you had declined his offer for a midnight tryst; always alluding to the theme of “untapped passions” or “delayed gratification”. It was starting to wear on you. 

Gods knew you liked him. He had so many qualities you admired; insight, intelligence, charm, the way he could make you laugh. The more you learned, the more you wanted to know and the more you were willing to give for answers. The trouble was his idea of a night of passion and yours were so very, very different.

A part of you knew the honest thing to do would be to spell it out for him.  You understood him well enough to know he’d respect those boundaries. At the same time, you didn’t want to lose this, whatever this was, between you. If suddenly that night of passion was off the table, all those moments, all his attentions would be lost. He’d be a friend, certainly, but nothing more. 

It was selfish. You knew it was. You couldn’t imagine finding the words to explain it to him. It would leave you too exposed, too vulnerable to that insistent burning want that had a way of tearing you apart from the inside out. It was better to leave him to his assumptions of suppression and prudishness. You’d keep your dignity at least. 

Pushing those thoughts away, you took your place in the unobtrusive corner and the spare violin waiting for you. 

A smile spread across your face as you tucked the familiar instrument under your chin. Since this whole adventure of yours began, you had little opportunity to apply your skills. Music had always been a source of comfort to you. It felt right to indulge in it now, some place safe and filled with warm firelight. 

With a flick of your wrist you began, the resonating tone of the strings filling the room. 

You allowed your eyes to close as you slipped into the melody. The sounds of conversation and laughter fell to an idle murmur. It was a simple tune, something easy to match the atmosphere, but one you loved all the same. You always found it best to start with something familiar. If the patrons could see you get lost in the music, they inevitably followed. 

As the first song came to an end, you chanced a quick glance at your audience. 

Most of the patrons still prattled on, but enough turned your direction to encourage you to try something a little more daring. 

Your fingers flew, igniting a livelier rhythm. More eyes found their way to you. A pleasant bubbling sensation filled you. They were falling right into your hands.  

Rising to your feet, you glided across the floor, moving with the music towards the center of the room. 

Patrons shuffled out of the way, transfixed by your performance. Even your companions had stopped their chatter. 

Karlach and Shadowheart’s faces lit up in delight. A smile touched the corner of Gale’s mouth. Even Lae’zel and Wyll looked on with admiration at your skills. As for Astarion…Astarion just stared. 

You couldn’t quite read what was going on behind those scarlet eyes. It was a look you had caught him wearing more than once, always blinked away before you could fully comprehend its meaning. All you knew was how it made that dangerous hope spark in your chest. 

He caught you looking and quickly morphed his expression to its familiar smirk. The bastard even had the audacity to wink. 

You rolled your eyes pretending not to have seen. It was all part of the game after all. He pretended to care, you pretended not to fall for it. 

A lute suddenly joined you from one of the corners, strumming its way into a new song. 

You turned as a cheer rose, encouraging the intrusive lutist forward. He was human by the look of him and certainly skilled in his own right. He took a moment to embellish your solo before taking over with one of his own. Soon enough you joined the conversation again with a counter melody. It wasn’t as clean as you would have liked it. The lad clearly had meant to upstage you, but you made sure to put him in line, allowing the impromptu duet to end in some kind of harmony. 

You transitioned easily to a new song as he took a seat, bowing to you as he did.

Remembering your showmanship, you made a point to bow in return, schooling your expression into a flirtatious grin before pulling away. That earned the man a round of cheers from his friends and a few obvious oohs from the crowd; exactly as you intended. 

You continued on with the remainder of your set. Requests were shouted from the audience, all the pieces of music moving to and from your fingers with practiced grace.  By the end of it, your arms were exhausted, but your face hurt from smiling. Gods you had missed this. 

As you took your bow, applause followed you back to your table as well as a handful of extra coin. 

“That was amazing!” Karlach said, beaming at you. “How’d you learn to play like that?”

“Years of practice,” you said, with pride. “Had to find an honest living somehow.”

“Well, it was beautifully done,” Gale added. “Maybe next time we make camp you could grace us with another performance. Provided we’re not all about to die of course.”

You shot him a grin. “I could be persuaded.” 

The wizard turned his gaze away, his lips turning into a knowing smirk. “You’ve been unnaturally quiet Astarion. Been bewitched have you?”

The vampire blinked as if coming out of deep thought. It was only in those last moments did you realize just how intently he had been looking in your direction.

“Yes,” he said, a little stiffly, “you were quite…good.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Be careful there. You wouldn’t want to overwhelm me with praise.”

He regarded you a moment before a sly smile turned at his lips. 

You were almost relieved. That look you understood at least. 

“If it’s praise you crave, you need only ask,” he purred. “You, my dear, are an unparalleled talent. Your beauty and grace alone should have brought you into the presence of kings. A true diamond in the rough.”

You snorted out a laugh.

“No good?” he continued. “How about this one; if I die tomorrow and the gods grant me mercy it will be your song that brings me into the beyond.”

You gave him a slow clap. “Brava.” 

He inclined his head in a little bow. “But seriously, you were good and you didn’t even destroy the furniture. Admittedly though, I wouldn’t have minded if he had met with a little accident.” 

You followed Astarion’s eye line to the lute player chatting with his friends. He perked up as he felt eyes on him. Without the distraction of playing, you could easily tell he was handsome in that sun kissed farmer’s son kind of way. Probably had most of the girls in the village swooning. 

He raised a tankard to you in toast.

You met the gesture in acknowledgment. 

“He wasn’t that bad,” you said, taking a sip of your drink.

“He was the worst part of your performance,” Astarion insisted. 

You knew he wasn’t wrong, but you couldn’t help but have your fun. 

“Oh my darling, don’t tell me you’re jealous,” you said, placing a hand over your heart.

“Certainly I am,” he said, clutching his own chest in turn. “He’s the only person I’ve seen you willing to make sweet music with. And judging from his looks, he would have much preferred it to be a private performance.” 

You didn’t bother looking over to the other table to see if he was telling the truth. It didn’t matter either way. It never did. Your answer was always the same. 

“He’ll have to keep waiting.” You shrugged. “Not my type.”

Astarion’s eyes narrowed slightly, leaning in closer. “And what exactly is?”

You didn’t answer, deciding instead to take a long sip of your ale.

He continued to eye you, his lips pursed as if trying to solve a puzzle. After a few moments he let out an exasperated sigh. 

“Fine, keep your secrets, but I will figure it out eventually.”

Your lip twitched up into a half smile. “You may certainly try.” 

It was then one of the staff brought out a truly enormous cauldron of the most delicious smelling stew you had smelled in your life. 

You didn’t think to wait as you greedily poured a ladle full into your empty bowl. Two full days on the road with nothing but a handful of nuts and berries to sustain you had taken its toll. The rest of the group soon followed, each taking their share. You ate yours so quickly that by the time the ladle had made the circle, you were grabbing for seconds.  

“Hungry are we?” Astarion observed. 

You paused mid bite, heat rising in your cheeks. You took a quick look at everyone else. Nobody seemed to have noticed how you inhaled your food. They were content enough in their own bowls and conversation. Carefully you swallowed before self consciously setting down the spoon in your hand.  

           “I am the one who worked for this,” you said, more defensively than you intended. 

Astarion regarded you with a raised eyebrow. “Even so, it’s not going to disappear the second you look away.” 

“Says you.” 

“Clever,” he said, dryly. “Devastating really. What’s next? Are you going to hit me with an “oh yeah” or Gods forbid a “your mother”?”

“I was actually leaning towards, “leave me to eat in peace you pompous jackass”.”

“Oh yes, that’s much better.”

You breathed out a frustrated sigh. Hopefully it would distract from your obvious embarrassment. You had thought you’d tucked those bad habits away. 

Years of living on your own had left you going to bed hungry more times than you cared to remember. There was a time food had disappeared from your plate if you didn’t eat it fast enough. Of course, things got better. You found music and people willing to listen. It gave you fire and shelter and a contented stomach on good nights. Still, there were the bad ones and old instincts took over. It took practice not to be as ravenous as you knew your nature to be. 

“Do I need to worry about your hunger?” you asked, deciding to change the subject. 

“Oh you of all people should know by now. I’m insatiable,” he crooned. 

Your eyes narrowed, unamused. “I’m being serious, when’s the last time you ate?”

He shrugged. “Few days. Last time I fed on you I imagine.” 

Your stomach gave a sudden guilt ridden twist. If that were the case, it had to have been at least three days ago. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because as much as the image of you swooning in my arms is appealing, I’d rather it be over my charms rather than blood loss.” He nodded his head towards the bowl. “From my own experience hunger and restraint don’t mix.” 

You tried to fight it. You really did. Years of instinct and reason told you not to fall for the softness in his eyes and voice. He simply didn’t want to explain a dead body to the rest of the party. It wasn’t out of some concern for your well being. And you absolutely could not allow yourself to believe he recognized the desperation in your actions and not pass judgment. If you believed that, you’d be in much more danger than you already were. 

“Excuse me deary,” an elderly voice asked. “I was wondering if I could have another moment of your time.”

You turned to see the barkeeper at your shoulder. 

“Oh,” you said, surprised. “Of course.” 

You moved to stand, but she gestured you down. It was then you noticed she was carrying a case. It was worn with age, but clearly lovingly maintained as the edges shone with intricate gold inlay. 

“I know you already paid for your meal,” she said. “But I was hoping I could ask for one more performance tonight.”

She opened the case to reveal the most beautiful violin you’d ever laid eyes on. The wood was a carefully polished chestnut interrupted with carvings which matched those on the case. The strings shone like gold and the pegs carved marble. You may not be a trained wizard, but could feel the magic pulsing from every square inch of it. 

“What is this?”

“It was my father’s,” the woman explained. “He was a bard you see, best in these parts from what people told. He had so many stories and songs. Built it himself to help tell them. Try as I might though, I could never get it to play as sweetly. I was hoping you might.”

You looked to your companions. The obvious curiosity played on all their faces. 

With a cautious hand, you plucked one of the strings. 

It was perfectly in tune. The sound echoed, rich and vibrant even with so light a touch. The instrument itself seemed to glow as if happy to be played once again.

Slowly, you lifted it from the case, taking the bow in hand. You placed it on the strings and with an exhale drew the first notes. 

It was the loveliest sound you’d ever heard.  

The vibrations resinated in your fingers, moving through your arm and into your chest. 

You decided to start simple, a handful of scales to get the intonations just right. 

Color danced across the strings, rippling from your fingers like raindrops in a pond. 

“Woah,” Karlach said, her eyes widening in awe. “Are you doing that?”

“No,” you said, pausing your motions, as you let it fall slack in your hands. 

The elderly halfing smiled. “My father always said an artist puts their truth into every stroke of the bow. This here helps one’s heart shine. I saw the way you performed earlier, you’re not afraid to play what’s true.”

Color rose in your cheeks, unsure how to take such praise. “Thank you.”

She just smiled, nodding towards the instrument. “Keep playing. See what happens.”

You were suddenly aware of the rest of the party’s eyes turning expectantly towards you. Some with caution, some with anticipation, and one pair of red eyes with unreadable intentions. 

Knowing there was no way you were getting out of this now, you rose from your seat, placing the violin securely beneath your chin. 

You started slow, picking a tune every beginner memorized in their first lessons. 

The music sparkled in front of your eyes, twirling outward in melodic waves.

The hum of conversation began to die down as you spotted the barkeeper beckon for silence. 

You continued on, moving to something a little more complex, allowing yourself to let the rest of the room blur in the peripheries. 

The sound of boots on cobblestones met your ears. Glancing down you saw stone where hardwood floors had been. 

You took another step. 

The stones followed. 

Around you the room fluctuated between firelight and the brightness of morning. Looking up you could see a clear sky had replaced the hatched ceiling. 

A smile spread across your face as you stepped away from your bench. 

As if waiting for your queue the rest of the bar quickly moved tables and chairs out of the way, clearing the center floor. 

The sun followed as the cobblestones spread out in front of you like a stream. With every flourish, finer details were added. You changed the direction allowing a building to form beside you, then another and another. Images of people faded in and out like memories, coming and going with the flow of the music. 

You never felt anything like this before. The strings sang inside you, drawing out a melody you knew was there, but had always managed to slip from your grasp. 

You surrendered to its current, following it deeper and deeper until all you could see, all you could touch was the music. 

Behind your eyes the streets began to turn and change. Buildings loomed large overhead. You could hardly see the stars. A cold swept through your clothes, the chords of the melody vibrating with the shivers in your hands. The world was so much bigger and you were so much smaller. 

No instrument laid in your hands, but still the music played on as if you had slipped into a dream. 

You continued to walk unsure of where your feet were carrying you until something warm pressed against your back. Light reflected behind you, casting long shadows on the ground. A melody played, soft and soothing against your own. You turned towards it as the voices of long forgotten conversation and laughter accompanied the strings of a quartet.

Your chords and theirs brushed up against each other, a new light shining in the darkness, but just as soon as it began, it moved away, leaving you on your own once again. 

You continued on, brushing against others. Sparks would fly, fire would ignite only for them it fade in front of your eyes. 

Your own melody grew more desperate, moving and shaping itself to match whoever you found next only just able to cling onto the barest sense of itself. 

An ache grew in your chest as you wandered, always searching, never finding. Something warm trailed down your cheeks. You let it flow, unable to stop. You wouldn’t end the story here, even as swirls of blues and blacks surrounded you. They wrapped around your body, filling your vision and squeezing tight around you until you felt the air being pushed out of your lungs. There was nothing else.  Even the music had gone dead. 

For what felt like a moment and eternity you sat there, alone in the dark. 

A voice came to you then, but it didn’t come from the instrument tucked somewhere under your chin.  No melody accompanied it. It was so far away. Something about it was so familiar. It spoke your name like a desperate prayer. You reached out for it.

The air itself moved around you as if you had plucked the very strings of the universe. 

A low hum came next bringing with it two pin pricks of light. A red fire glowed in the darkened space, growing until they sat as two eyes burning in the air. 

You cocked your head to the side. Your own song started again, cautious as it curled around the eyes, examining them from different angles. 

The eyes crinkled at the edges, amused by your persistence. 

With a blur of motion, it turned to the side allowing a profile to form and beginning an enticing melody of its own. 

You and the face took turns, calling and answering in playful antagonism. 

The lines of light continued downward as its counter melody grew in strength against your own, forming the outline of a man.

He stepped towards you, his own head turning to the side as yours had done before, examining you from every angle. 

After a moment, he bowed. You curtseyed. And then you did what only felt natural. You danced.

The heat of his touch burned your skin, but you didn’t dare pull away. You had been cold for so long you hadn’t even known you were cold. Even when it became too much, the fear of the darkness kept you in his light. 

The man in turn held you close, his song teasing against your own. So unlike the duet from before, this was a true conversation, the pair of you giving and taking in equal measure. You didn’t want it to stop, holding the feeling tighter and tighter until you felt the pulse of his fire inside you. 

You looked up to find the embers of his eyes pouring into you.  He moved your hand to his chest. A heart pumped beneath and you knew then it wasn’t his own. Just as you had taken from him, he had taken from you in equal measure. 

His face came into focus, forming a familiar knowing smirk and playful scarlet eyes.

He stepped back from you, his hand holding yours as he bowed, placing a kiss on the back of your hand. 

The song faded away and you were once again in your own body, a violin tucked carefully beneath your chin. 

You blinked your eyes open to find the tavern standing as it had been moments ago.  Patrons surrounded you, their eyes wide and mouths open. You glanced around the room, quickly finding your companions. Horror struck you as you read their expression. 

They’d seen it. All of it. 

Before you could register what was happening a wave of applause erupted from the crowd. People began to cheer. You heard awed whoops and hollers. The adoration was overwhelming and completely miss timed. You needed to lie down. You needed to think. 

Numbly you bowed before making your way to the side of the room where the barkeeper stood. 

You held the instrument out to her, unable to look her directly in the eye. 

“Thank you for letting me play this,” you said. 

To your surprise she didn’t take it, instead pushing your hands away with a shake of her head. 

“Keep it love,” she said. “After seeing all that, feels wrong to take it away from you. You’ve more than earned the right to it.”

You wanted to argue. You wanted to scream. You wanted to curse her for ever asking you to touch the damned thing. Somehow you managed to swallow all of that down, mumbling another thank you before slowly turning towards your party. 

There was still a chance to salvage this. Astarion hadn’t seen his own reflection in centuries. He didn’t know what he looked like. You could play this whole thing up to artistic license. You just carried a general feeling of desperate longing. No need for you to clarify its direction. 

Making a point to keep your head down, you put the violin away and slid it over to Gale. 

“Feel free to eat this one if you want,” you said. It was meant to be a joke, but even you could feel it fall flat. 

“I don’t think I can do that,” Gale said, his tone holding nothing but sympathy. 

“It really was lovely,” Wyll said, gently. 

“Beautiful really,” Shadowheart added. 

Your jaw tightened, caught between the urge to scream or weep. Why couldn’t everybody do you the favor of the lifetime and forget they saw anything. 

“Personally I don’t understand your choice in the spawn, but–” Lae’zel started only to be hit hard in the arm by Karlach.

“What?” she snapped. 

Your whole body cringed, knowing exactly what was coming next. 

“That was…me?” 

You were in hell. This was hell. You didn’t have to look up to see Astarion’s self satisfied expression. His tone made it clear enough.

In a flash you stepped back from the table, putting as much distance between you and the party as possible. 

“I need to go,” you managed. “Goodnight.” 

You sprinted out of the tavern, taking two steps of the time to the upper rooms. You didn’t stop until your door was firmly slapped behind you. 

Your breaths came hard as your heart pounded in your chest. Honestly you didn’t know how you locked the door. Your hands were shaking so badly as tears blurred your vision. All the emotions the violin had pulled from you returned, overwhelming you in their intensity. 

The instrument had done as advertised. It had shown the truth of your heart, putting it on display for the whole world to see. Gods you were an idiot. Why did you even pick up that damned thing? 

You kept your ears open, listening as everyone made their way to their rooms. Their murmurs never made it past the walls, but the way they paused as they passed your door made it clear enough they were discussing you. Thankfully they were kind enough to leave you be. 

Counting, you waited until all six doors shut before rising to your feet. 

As you did, you felt a small pull at the back of your mind. A vision of a door number and the feeling of anticipation sat on your tongue. The invitation was clear enough; Astarion was waiting for you. 

You wanted to ignore it, but you knew you couldn’t. There was no use in pretending any longer. The game was over and you would have to face the consequences.

With a steeling breath, you walked out the door. You could only hope Astarion wouldn’t hate you when it was all over.

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 #astarion bg3 #astarion baldurs gate #bard!reader #asexual!reader #asexual #bard!tav #astarion x ace!tav #astarion x evie

[ameliathornromance]

Travelling Orc, who prefers to walk alone. He is a nomad with no name and no company. Who needs other people, anyway? They only hurt and lie.

Travelling Orc, who knew he shouldn’t have helped you out of that cell. He was solely responsible for his carelessness. He shouldn’t have got caught by that wizard.

Travelling Orc, who’s own damn bleeding heart couldn’t leave you there to suffer.

Travelling Orc, who lets you come along with him when you tell him you have nowhere else to go.

Travelling Orc, who gets used to your company and learnt that you have your own set of useful skills - spells, potion making and astrology.

Travelling Orc, who doesn’t understand why he gets annoyed when others speak to you in Taverns. He punched a halfling once for daring to offer to pay for your drink.

Travelling Orc, who grumbles in (fake) annoyance when you fret over injuries from trying to get a bounty. He won, don’t worry. But that’s not what you care about. He knows that.

Travelling Orc, who almost murdered a royal company. Upon realising that they chased you down on horseback after using magic to heal a wounded rabbit.

Travelling Orc, who had no choice but to tell you how he felt when he believed he was on his deathbed. Bleeding from his wounds he sustained from the battle with the company.

And who was happier than ever, when he awoke in your arms.

#monster lover #orc fiction #orc x reader #monster x female #orc boyfriend #orc romance #monster romance #monster x you #monster x human #monster x reader #orc x reader headcanons

[frantic-fiction]

May I request some Jealous!Fem!Reader x Astarion? Maybe one where someone from Astarion’s past makes an appearance and while Astarion sees this woman as just a friend, reader can see the woman blatantly flirting with her vampire spawn and she doesn’t like it one bit. ESPECIALLY if Astarion’s oblivious to the woman’s advances and innocently engages (because let’s face it, our boy loves being praised & complimented 24/7). Reader decides it’s her turn to stake her claim on our little sassy vampire and remind everyone who he belongs to ;)

Yes! Yes! Thank you for the request!

Jealous

Astarion x gn!reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.5k

Masterlist

It was nice being back in the city. Yes, there was still the ever-looming threat of the Absolute, but most of the party was back home, and for once, it felt like, for a moment, everyone could breathe. You had a fluffy bed to sleep on instead of a lumpy bedroll. And while Gale always made whatever perversions the party scavenged taste good, the warm, hearty tavern meals you've been treated to as of late were too good to beat.

But the best part of being back was taking any moment to drag Astarion out into the city to wherever he fancies so he can explore Baldur's Gate in the daylight without the darkness of Cazador. He wanted to visit the farmers market today, so you wandered the vendors' stalls, stopping to take moments and smell flowers and sample wares.

Astarion politely conversed with a tailor about the fabric quality used for a shirt he wanted. Frankly, they had been talking longer than your attention span could handle, so when your eyes wandered to a stall full of beaded jewelry, you wasted no time giving Astarion a quick peck on the cheek and telling him where you'd be.

The pieces were beautiful and skillfully crafted—brightly colored beads and gold inlays, gems of various minerals, all catching your eyes. The older halfling woman propped highly on the stool, greets you politely, and gives little details and facts about each one you set aside for closer inspection. Maybe you should get something for Shadowheart and Karlach? Probably not Lae—

"Astarion!"

A feminine voice has you snapping your head back to your partner. A frown instantly settles over your features when you see a tall, elven woman pull Astarion's hug. Her brown hair is intricately braided into a top knot decorated in sparkly chains. Her dress hugs her curves, framing her body perfectly.

Why are they still hugging?

"Oh Gods, it's been too long. You're looking amazing." Her nasal voice filters down the markets. "How are you, love?"

Astarion finally manages to break the hug, giving the woman an automatic flirtatious smile, the tailor long forgotten. "Eleanor, I've been well. I do hope the same can be said for you."

Dropping the beads with little care, you leave the stall, ignoring the halfling. You don't like this woman. You don't like how her hand still lingers on Astarion's forearm or how she leans ever so slightly closer as if daring him to kiss her.

"I've been fine, though I'm upset you haven't visited in quite a while. It's been rather dull without you." She runs her hand up his arm.

Astarion laughs, flicking his hand in the air and clearly enjoying the woman's words. "I could only imagine, my dear. Those brutes are fowl at their best. Who wouldn't miss me."

Your jaw clenches when her obnoxious laughter rings in the air. Pushing past a family of four throwing a half-ass apology, not paying mind, too pissed off. Who does this woman think she is putting her hands on Astarion as if he's hers?

"Astarion, you always knew how to make me laugh." Elenor ducks her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "If I'm being honest, I was always jealous of the ones you took home. But now that we're here, maybe…"

Oh, hell no! You practically jump the rest of the way and run into Astarion's arm. He lets out a breathy oof, arms tightening around your waist to keep you from tumbling to the ground. Pretending you weren't aware of the woman, you capture Astarion into a chaste kiss before beaming up at him.

"I hope you found what you were looking for, my love." Your voice is sickly sweet as you trail your thumb across his cheekbone. Then you turn your head and feign innocence, looking at the elf. "Oh, I'm sorry, Star. Who is this?"

Astarion gives you a look but recovers quickly. Clearing his throat, he speaks, "Darling, this is Eleanor. She owns a tavern I frequented. One of the only decent companies I've had before we met."

Moving away from Astarion's side, you reach your hand out in greeting, giving her your name, "It's a pleasure to meet a friend of my Star,"

Eleanor looks a bit taken aback, staring blankly at the two of you, clearly not expecting this change in her plans. You're internally preening. She takes your hand in a limp shake before dropping it and stepping back. Eleanor quickly wipes her hand on her dress slyly and chuckles.

"That explains why I haven't seen you in a while."

You sneer at her, wanting nothing more than to punch her. Instead, you drop your hand onto Astarion's chest, nuzzling warmly into his side. "Yes, sorry about that. I've been a bit selfish. Sometimes it hard to get out of bed."

"Right…" Eleanor says. Astarion, I never took you as one to settle down, especially someone as… unique as them."

"What is that supposed to mean?" The venom drips from your words, and Astarion has to keep you in place.

Eleanor smirks. "Oh, I meant nothing bad." The mocking tone alone reinforces that she meant this to be as insulting as possible. "I'm just stating you're rougher around the edges."

Astarion's hold on your waist tightens as you move to step forward, hand reaching for the dagger discreetly hidden against your thigh. There is no possible way this woman values Astarion in any way more than as a body to conquer. That thought alone has you practically baring your teeth.

"What the fuck does that mean!"

Astarion steps in before you can do anything extreme, "Eleanor, it was lovely seeing you again. We'll have to come and visit sometime for a drink, but I'm afraid my love and I must make our leave."

"Oh yes, of course!" Elenor says, her voice a bit too filled with fake cheer. Her smile is strained, and her eyes stare daggers into your skull. "I hope I can see you at the tavern sometime soon."

"Yes, we'll come down for a visit sometime soon. " Astarion calls over his shoulder, practically dragging you down the cobblestone. You think about ripping your arm out of his hold and turning back, but you let him pull you along with only a death glare sent toward Eleanor.

As soon as the two of you are in a secluded place, Astarion drops your hand and turns on you. "Darling, what was that?"

Picking at your nails, you shrug your shoulders. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Astarion takes your hand and, with a finger, tilts your chin to force you to meet his eyes. He has a shit-eating grin, and his fangs are even more prominent in his smile. "You were jealous."

Swatting his hands away, you step back. "I was not!" You lie and storm down the alleyway. You didn't get far before Astarion caught your wrist and spun you into his chest.

"You were jealous." He repeats. "But you really shouldn't be."

"She was all over you."

"It was a hug, my dear, from probably the closest normal friendship I had before the tadpole."

"Friendship? She was practically begging you to fuck her." You huff, fiddling with the lapels of Astarion's shirt.

Astarion chuckles deeply and presses a kiss to your forehead. "Gods, you're cute when you're jealous."

"Don't make fun of me, Astarion."

Ignoring you, he continues. "For argument's sake, if she was begging me to fuck her, as you so eloquently put it, who cares? I certainly don't, not when I have this beautiful, strong, incredibly understanding partner who knows all the darkest parts of me and still stands by my side?"

"Well, I am pretty noble for putting up with you when you're hungry." You smile, looping your arms around his neck, all jealousy draining from you like water from a colander.

"How could another soul handle me in that horrid state." Astarion runs his nose against yours. "I love you and don't plan on stopping soon."

You beam and kiss him breathlessly before mumbling, "I love you too," against his lips. "I think we should head back to our room."

Astarion chuckles under his breath, running his hands down the curve of your spine. "Oh, what for my sweet?"

"Well," Crawling your fingers up his chest, you press your lips to his ear and whisper. "If you'll let me, I want to mark every inch of your neck." "Mark me as yours, darling?" Astarion hums.

"Mhmm, we could go further, but" you continue. "Tonight, I want you to show me this tavern Eleanor owns. I think we deserve a date night."

"You are jealous."

"If I agree, will you take me out?" You lean in for a kiss.

Astarion presses forward, brushing his lips against yours. "As long as I have a necklace of your pretty love bites."

"Then yes, my love, I am very much jealous."

I've been struggling with inspiration lately. Moving was super stressful and I had to leave a hostile work environment very quickly so life's been a bit messy. But I've got my kitty cat and don't have to deal with a shitty boss so hopefully things will go up from here.

I'm kinda iffy on how I feel on this one but that might just be my current mindset. I hope you all enjoy it regardless, and stay tune because I plan on have something spicier posted soonish...possibly Astarion discovering his breeding kink 🫣❤️

Taglist: @heartfully10@ayselluna@marina-and-the-memes@anixson@canonicalchaoticneutral @toadsbitch @meulinkitten-blog @ambr4armr @lotusandcrystals @venussakura @synapticjive @skittleabyss@asterordinary@lariatbunny @whispering-depths@butchboi-chihuahua-slumlord@darkest-part-of-the-forest@queenofcarrotflowers-s@sessils @d20bunny@cherifrog@ophelia-ophelian@bgthree@darlingxdragon@mothynyx @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf@babyqnn @mmendez0124@kokoyu-art@lilah-asteria

Want to be added to the taglist? DM me please!

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #reader insert #astarion #bg3 astarion #bg3 #astarion ancunin #astarion imagine #baulders gate 3 #fanfic #frantic fiction

[crunchycat6]

some more pizza dungeon stuff :]

Gus is the whole reason this au exists in the first place, he’s so gnome. i loved giving him a big ol’ robe :] and brick was super fun, i love making her a bit more realistic but still silly <3 don’t know how i feel about his cap, i might go back and change it a bit

Again trying to keep the mask silhouette with hazel’s hood, although it’s easier to justify her having a cute outfit for the sake of it being cute :3 took some cues from marcille’s outfit but made it much much pinker

more stuff under here

gus, being a regular at peppino’s tavern, heard theo trying to strike up a deal with peppino, burst into the conversation, and demand that he and brick tag along. gus is super into animals/monsters (if you couldn’t tell from his giant rat familiar) and is mostly going dungeon diving to document and study all the monsters, plus theo needed a better healer than hazel so gus is getting paid well.

Brick is brick. being a familiar, she’s happy to come with gus to the dungeon and is generally a big help to the party even if she’s not the most traditional party member (she’s perfect for carrying people when they get tired) she’s clearly pretty smart but to what extent no one really knows

hazel has been exploring the dungeon for the longest, she’s not exactly trying to become a dungeon lord (although she’s certainly not opposed to the thought) she’s just making a living and enjoying the exploration along the way :]

she and theo have been married for a bit and again, she’s happy to explore the dungeons without needing to become a dungeon lord, but she’s also happy to accompany her husband :] also both being beastmen, they kind of serve as the halflings of the party, with their raised senses and stuff. not as good as the real thing but it works

#pizza dungeon #pizza tower #dungeon meshi #gustavo and brick #gustavo pizza tower #noisette

[swordshapedleaves]

This is I think, my best prep tip as a DM:

When the players are about to visit a new town, pre-generate several NPCs who fit the demographics of the town, but don't give them jobs. Your town is Mostly human, with a number of halflings and gnomes? Make a list that's mostly humans with some halflings and gnomes mixed in, with names that match the vibe you're going for and maybe the barest description + a quirk of some sort.

So the list would look something like this:

Ophelia Bracegurdle, older Halfling woman who laughs a lot

Norabecka Johnson, a young human woman who seems tired

Geraldofinio Babblecock Nimsy, gnome gentleman who takes pains to maintain a fabulous mustache

Etc.

Then, when the players are like, "Can I go to the blacksmith?" You look at your list of NPCs and the one at the top is Ophelia Bracegurdle. She's your blacksmith now. Then they want to go to the tavern, where Norabecka is the innkeeper and Geraldofinio is a patron having a drink at the bar. He's using a straw so he doesn't mess up his mustache.

If they had gone to the inn first, Ophelia would have been the innkeeper with Norabecka as the patron, and then Geraldofinio should have been a blacksmith with some sort of mustache guard to keep the sparks off.

Making the list ahead of time doesn't take much time, and you can often re-use the people you never got to at the next town.

Your world will seem vibrant and interesting and like you have everything planned out.

Have fun!

#dm tips #i love dungeons and dragons #dnd #d&d #dungeons and dragons

[spacebarbarianweird]

I Want to See the Sea of Fallen Stars

Summary: The events of the game through the eyes of Tiriel and Astarion

Pairing: Astarion x OC (Tiriel)

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

It hurts.

It always does.

His wrists are chained to the wall. Astarion’s bones are broken, and his flesh is flayed. From the little he can see through the piercing pain, there is no skin left on his body. 

Slowly, it starts regenerating—if he were allowed to feed, it would have happened much sooner, but the master has decided to make Astarion dance on the verge of madness. Whenever the blissful insanity is ready to take away his reason and mind, Cazador gives his favorite spawn a droplet of blood squeezed from a flea. 

It’s never going to end, is it?

Two centuries. Astarion counted. It’s 1492 DR. The world has changed within those years but nothing ever changes in the vampiric mansion. It’s always the same.

Always.

There was a time when Astarion prayed. He prayed to the elven gods, the powerful Seladrine. He prayed to the human gods, merciful and accepting.

Gods never hear. They especially don't hear the undead. Once Astarion was put into his grave, the gods forgot about him.

There was a time when Astarion hoped a savior would come. Faerun is the land of adventurers and heroes! How come none of them wants to challenge a vampire lord? 

There was a time when Astarion hoped there was a hero to get him out of this. Whatever his sins were, he paid for them fully. Why does he keep being tortured, raped, humiliated, beaten? 

He can’t even find peace in his sleep like other spawns! He is doomed to get into reverie and relive these tortures.

Over and over again.

Cazador orders Gaudey to unchain Astarion and he falls onto the dirty stone floor, shivering and weeping.

Cazador laughs and Astarion wishes for a final death.

**

“More ale!” Tiriel the Barbarian bellows. The people in the tavern cheer—and her pain sinks to the bottom of the mug.

By the time the tavern closes, Tiriel the Barbarian is completely wasted.

Well, such is her life. And it will always be, until she meets a monster who will finish her.

She just doesn’t belong.

She isn't human. Her family tried to kill her and she hopes they all die of some fever. She isn’t an elf—she learned it the hard way by encountering hostility from the Tel’Quessira. The groups of adventurers see her only as a means to an end. Someone who can do the dirty and dangerous job,the one who rushes first into a fight. 

People like her waste their money on prostitutes, paying for the bits of warmth they are deprived of. But the very thought of undressing in front of a stranger makes her sick.

Thirty-six-year-old, Tiriel bitterly thinks. No home. No friends. No purpose. It’s probably her fault because she has never let anyone close—the last man who approached her ended up with a broken skull.

She never fits in. And she never will.

Tiriel needs more ale to numb those thoughts.

And she needs another job.

Her innate wanderlust calls upon her, making the very idea of staying in a comfy inn sickening.

The notice board is pathetically empty. Seems like other adventurers have taken everything decent.

“Looking for a job?” a halfling waitress calls her out. 

“Yes. Do you have any?”

“My asshole of a cousin needs a fighter to accompany his caravan to Westgate. If you aren’t afraid of spending half a year on the road, he will pay you decently.”

“Is it on the shores of the Sea of Fallen Stars?” Tiriel asks to draw a map in her mind. It’s indeed far away from that wretched town—but gods! She will finally see the sea! Not a lake, not a river! The sea!

“Indeed. So, do you agree or not?”

“Yes! Of course, I agree! This ax is hungry for blood! When are we leaving?”

“In the morning. Well, I have something more for you—and if I were you, I would choose this,” the halfling leans on the bar table. “I have a friend in Baldur’s Gate,he owns a ship that traverses along the Sword Coast. It will take you three weeks to get there—just tell him I sent you, and he will hire you. Trust me, woman, six months in the company of my asshead of a cousin aren’t worth it. And adventurers can make a fortune in Baldur’s Gate.”

“And what if your friend doesn’t hire me? Or there is no friend?”

“Then you will have another rewarding job in the blink of an eye. And you can always return here and trash my tavern. Anyway the choice is yours.”

Tiriel grins.

“Well, the night is young! Bring me more ale!”

**

The mindflayer pod lets Astarion go and he collapses on a floor that resembles living flesh.

The master will torment him for his disappearance. He must get back, he must return!

Astarion presses his legs to the chest.

Is it a fucking spelljammer he is inside? The astral ships from the Wildspace? Aren't they just a story? A work of fiction?

He manages to stand up. He sees people locked in the capsules being slowly turned into disgusting mindflayers. 

He needs to get out of here. Now!

Astarion looks out - he can't be the only one to be “not transformed”. There must be others. 

“FUCK!”

A loud female voice echoes through the ship. 

“FUCK! I KNEW I SHOULD HAVE GONE TO WESTGATE! BUT NO, I NEEDED TO GO TO THAT WRETCHED CITY!”

Astarion carefully looks behind the corner. He doesn’t want to show himself yet.

It’s a half-elven woman with a two-handed ax. She holds it with a very clear message on her face, “I will turn you inside out if you dare to approach me.”

She is beautiful.

This thought invades Astarion’s thoughts. He never paid too much attention to the people he wanted to seduce. And he is sure he slept with much more gorgeous females.

But this one…

This one is a vision.

**

Tiriel could have easily gotten up from the ground but, for some reason, she doesn’t want to. The man who holds a dagger at her is weirdly handsome and she is sure she’s never met anyone like him.

Astarion.

Such a beautiful name.

And he doesn't resemble those elves she’s met before. There is sadness in his eyes, fear, desperation. He looks like a person who has been imprisoned for years and forgotten anything but how to survive.

And these curls of his.They must be so soft.

Tiriel has never felt anything like this—but she thinks she is in love.

**

Astarion feels like a bloody fool.

All his thoughts are occupied with Tiriel. How she laughs, how she talks. Whenever he closes his eyes he relives that night in the clearance,her skin, her warmth, her freckles, her moans. He’s had thousands of victims and he performed the same things over and over again

But he never felt so good, so blissful. He didn't even leave her side when she fell asleep.

She isn’t afraid of him. She doesn’t make him feel weak.

Her name sounds like a prayer.

Tiriel.

Tiriel.

Her name howls with the winds of Tunlan and jingles like fey bells. There is something delicate in it and something wild at the same time. He rolls her name on his tongue and jumps on his feet any time Tiriel wants to talk to him

She always talks to him first. She always listens. He…

He wants to be hers.

**

Tiriel is angry. Gods, she knows the cruelties of this world. She has heard of horrors that might happen…

But this…

This is different.

This is terrible.

This is unfair.

Astarion sits beside her, his torso naked. The symbols in Infernal carved in his skin make him look vulnerable and Tiriel has to suppress the desire to hug him from behind.

Now she understands why he is so bitter, so cruel, so distant. He’s been a slave for two hundred years and the world is hardly the same it was when he was alive. 

“I will help you deal with your master,” Tiriel says. 

Astarion squints his eyes. He is looking for a catch, she understands. The reward she wants.

“I will help you,” she repeats. “I promise”

**

Astarion doesn’t understand what he feels. 

Sadness? Anger? Pity? 

Tiriel lies on her back, pressing a bandage to a fresh bite mark. She lets him feed on her almost daily even though it affects her battle skills. 

He was abused as an adult and he suspects he wasn’t a good person back when he was mortal, but Tiriel was beaten and neglected as a child.

Astarion bends over and looks at Tiriel’s right ear—there is a thin line of a scar left by her drunk stepfather, a pathetic chieftain who never forgave his wife’s unfaithfulness and lashed it all on his “bastard daughter”.

“Astarion.”

“Hm?”

“Could you stay with me tonight?”

Her voice is weak, she is already half-asleep. His body reacts faster than his mind—to stay with her, with the warmth of her body! It sounds like heaven.

But what if she wants something in return?

What if? Hells, he can think about it tomorrow.

He curls at her side, putting his head on her chest.

Thump-thump-thump

Her heart is close; he can mistake its beats for his own.

**

Tiriel has to make an effort not to laugh. Did he really think he managed to fool her? Did he really think she didn’t know what he was doing? And he thinks she’s going to be angry?

Gods, and she thought he was smart!

“I care about you,” she finally says. “Deeply.”

“Really?”

This is the voice of a condemned person who has been pardoned.

**

Astarion is numb. There is a hollow emptiness inside him. He thought he would rejoice once his master was dead. He thought it would compensate for all those years of horror and misery.

But there is nothing but darkness.

Astarion hears steps. Tiriel approaches but doesn’t touch him. Years later, he will be grateful for that.

She limps a bit—her face is covered in blood and bruises. Tiriel is exhausted and visibly wounded. He isn’t sure, but it appears she was in rage for the whole fight and it completely drained her.

Tiriel approaches the vampire lord’s body and contemplates for a bit.

And then smashed his ribcage with her boot. The disgusting sound of broken bones echoes through the chambers.

Tiriel spits on Cazador’s face and then picks up Astarion’s shirt from the floor.

Without saying anything, she helps him dress. Then she takes his hand and doesn't let him go till they reach the inn.

There, he collapses on the bed and curls in a fetal position. 

“I am going to be downstairs,” Tiriel says, covering him with a blanket. “Rest.”

“Tiriel.”

“What is it, love?”

“Thank you,” he barely manages to spell it out.

But for what? For saving him in the dungeons? For believing in him? 

For loving him?

Astarion doesn’t know.

Tiriel kisses his forehead as if he were a little child and leaves him alone with his thoughts.

**

Tiriel is scared.

It’s been too much. She was never fit to fight cultists, monsters, and dragons… and yet now she has to fight the mindflayers.

A kick in the stomach and she falls on the surface of the brain. She feels pain even through the armor and she knows there is an acid burn on her skin. The tadpole suppresses it, but it still hurts.

“Don’t you dare die!” Astarion helps her to stand up. “We will win this fight, you hear me?!”

She nods. She can barely hear anything because of the pain. Her ears ring, her throat burns—her rage… She can’t do it anymore. She is too exhausted. Whatever the source of her abilities is, it's been drained.

“Tiriel!” Astarion still holds her. “Tiriel, you’ve promised. We are going to see the Sea of Fallen Stars together. Remember?”

The Sea of Fallen Stars… yes… that faraway western waters known for pirates and treasures… and ancient cities… and forgotten islands…

“Yes… we are going to see the Sea of Fallen stars.”

***

The last rays of the sun wash the ground and then the world is taken by darkness. The distant lights of Westgate shine to the east.

The sea looks like a night sky reflecting stars and living up to its name.

Tiriel submerges herself in the salt water. Before she would never dare to swim naked—even though she is capable of protecting herself without armor and weapons, she still never felt safe enough.

Astarion approaches the water's edge but doesn’t dare to proceed.

“Come on! Those aren't running waters! They can’t harm you!”

He hesitates but Tiriel already makes him get into the water despite his protests. Then she jumps on him, wrapping her hands and legs around his torso and forcing him to put his palms under her bottom.

It’s been one year and a half since she woke up in that pod. One year and a half since she met him—her star-crossed love Tiriel is sure she was intended to meet.

She kisses him and Astarion answers with the same tenderness and love.

“I love you,” he mutters and kisses her neck.

“I love you, too, my heart,” Tiriel caresses his curls and smiles.

--

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 @queenofthespacesquids

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion romance #bg3 #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x tav #named tav #baldur's gate tav #baldur's gate iii #astarion established relationship #barbarian tav #half elf tav #hurt/comfort #tiriel of the sunset mountains #tiriel the barbarian #astarion x tiriel #oc tav: tiriel #astarion ancunin #astarion baldurs gate #astarion baldurs gate 3 #astarion brainrot #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion fluff #astarion fanfiction #astarion imagine #baldurs gate 3 astarion #astarion fics

[y-rhywbeth2]

Lore: Common Phrases & Words

Accuracy Disclaimer & The Other Stuff [tldr: D&D lore is a giant conflicting mess. Larian's lore is also a conflicting mess. You learn to take what you want and leave the rest]

Abeir-Toril Why it's called the "Forgotten" Realms History | Time & Festivals | Lexicon [1] [2]| Languages | Living in Faerûn [1] [?] | Notable Organisations | Magic | Baldurs Gate | Waterdeep | The Underdark | Geography and Human Cultures --- WIP

Translating some earth phrases and words into their Faerûnian equivalents, plus some words specific to Faerûn; Here's how make friends and insult people in Faerûn. Also they have coffee, guitars and health insurance.

Also included a handful of Waterdhavian phrases and words.

-

Phrases and curses:

"Before all the gods..." - "I swear to god..."

"Well met" - default greeting; hello

"Well again" - greeting between acquaintances, business partners and friends.

"Well enough" - agreement; "ok", "that's fine with me"

“Never undress in a room with a window, a Harper may be near!” – "Be careful what you say, you don't know who's listening. an interesting warning courtesy of Waterdhavian noble matrons.

"Haularake!" - The polite way to say "gods fucking damn it!" while in front of small children.

"Hrast!" - Damn it!

"Hrasted [thing]!" - Damned [thing]!

"[Deity]'s Blood" - eg "Cyric's Blood" Religious oath, rather like jesus christ. Contracted version of Blood of [deity]

I swear that I have seen "Umberlee's Teats" and "Cyric's Balls" said somewhere...

"Being an ox-haunch" - "Being an asshole"

"a breath" - a moment, a second; "wait a breath"

"A breath or two" - A moment/second; eg, "give me a breath or two to finish this."

"A goodly breath or three" - a minute. (Waiting for a notable amount of time, maybe ten minutes, but not that long.) -- The dwarven variant is "but a little while" -- Halflings call it a "long song"

"Counting like a halfling" - Being contrary just to be difficult Most of the Realms counts on their fingers starting with the thumb, halflings do it the other way around.

"Naeth!", "Naed!" - Shit!

"Sabruin" - Fuck you, Fuck off.

"Lay down [good] coin" - "pay [a lot] for something"

“Resourceful as a bard”

"Life's better when you're not a frog." - "Avoid wizards."

“Sweet water and light laughter until next we meet” - A goodbye said between nobles. Technically an elven farewell, but human nobility decided it made them look cultured or something.

"Gone to Daggerford" - Waterdhavian phrase meaning to hide from the law by lying low outside the city

"Black as a black opal" - used to describe people who seem evil, but aren't really. (Especially if they'd dislike you saying so)

- Faerûnian Lexicon:

Scorchkettle - a Karen.

Dining-house - a Restaurant

Glim - Eye-catching, beautiful, flashy

Kaeth - Coffee ~Fireswallow - a colloquial term for Coffee.

Yarting - acoustic guitar

Short scroll - Newspaper

Nandra - mediocre, meh.

Dael, daelin - a year, years

Saer - a term to address nobility when you don't know the proper title, or when they're children

Lackwit - Idiot

Roundskull - a prejudiced idiot who doesn't use their brain; "often applied to local folk who sit drinking in their tavern displaying prejudices and repeating the words of their parents and grandparents, rather than making their own judgements about changing conditions around them, and new concepts, items, and customs."

Handfast - an engagement (to be married) Handfasted - engaged

Goldnose, Goldnosed - Haughty. aka. "Has a stick up their ass." Highnose - as above

Lackcoin - a derogatory term for those living in poverty.

Darkmorning - the early morning hours between midnight and sunrise

Highsun - Midday

the Eavestrough - the Gutter

a Bell - an Hour

a Candle - an Hour

Festhall - a type of establishment found in the Realms. A kind of fusion between an inn, laundromat, spa, night club, brothel and casino. I'll explain these in another post. Suffice to day that BG3 is the most accurate portrayal of how damn horny this setting is that I've seen in a CRPG so far.

Blesséd - an elven loanword referring to immediate family.

Harhand - a labourer (minimum wage employee)

Healthshield - Health insurance, also known as a "healing-bond"

Fire-bond - Fire insurance

Rivvim - horny

Dawnfry - colloquial term for breakfast A common breakfast, especially for travellers at camp, is to quickly fry the leftovers from last night's meal.

Highbite - colloquial term for lunch Long variant is "Highsunfest."

Latebite, Evenfest - Dinner Abbreviation of "Eveningfeast."

the Art - Magic

Lackspell - a weak, or novice wizard

Aloft - Upstairs; "she went aloft/upstairs."

High-coin - Expensive; or referring to a high paying job Low-coin - Cheap; or paying minimum wage

Finework - intricate and valuable metalwork. Silverware and jewellery, for example

Finesmith - a smith who works with precious metals.

Hiresword - Mercenary

Stareyed - naïve

Shraehouse - a type of very small tavern

Fastmud - Cement

a Swords out - a brawl or violent argument

a Smur - a light, misty rain

Beast-men - common word for ogres

Big Folk - Term used by gnomes and halflings to refer to the other races

Longears - term for an elf

Little man - insult aimed at dwarves

a Blackstick - something like a grease pencil. A writing utility made of a stick of thorden (juniper) wood that can be sharpened on one end, which is then slightly charred and used to write with.

a Blandreth - a three legged cooking pot

a Boot - a Traveller

Dadacky - Rotten, Decayed

Heartstop - a Heart attack

Coin - Money; "I've got no coin until I get paid next week."

a Broad Cry - Headline of a newspaper/broadsheet

Holy hand - a temple guard

Tenday - equivalent of a week (10 days instead of 7) Other, less commonly used terms include; an "eve," "hyrar", "ride" or a "domen".

the Elf day - the Weekend. The tenth day of a tenday, sometimes a day of rest.

House storming - a burglary; home invasion

the Realms Below - the Underdark

a Black Robe - a magistrate [Waterdhavian dialect]

a Sun - a platinum coin [Waterdhavian]

a Dragon - a gold coin [Waterdhavian]

a Shard - a silver coin [Waterdhavian]

a Nib - a copper coin [Waterdhavian]

[reborrowing]

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

#g/t #giant tiny #g/t community #g/t writing #sfw g/t #poll story #my writing #I don't have a Definite plot but I've got directions to go #lemme practice pants writing for a minute #also I should name these people huh #temp oc tag: rogue #temp oc tag: barbarian #temp oc tag: shana? #dust prince #may change title? I really hate names man #and oh my god im anxious about whether or not the choices are stupid isn't that weird? #like if I just write what we're doing that's fine but do the choices look ok?? am I stupid??? i hope not

[dailyadventureprompts]

Dungeon: How Grief Blooms

After the tragic death of his wife, the halfling Earl of Eastbrook has become a recluse, abstaining from social functions, seldom seen in public, and conducting much of his concerns through various agents. Agents like you, paid well so that you conduct the Earl’s business promptly and without asking too many questions. However, after some weeks of gruntwork and strange favours, you can’t help the feeling that something rotten is going on at the Eastbrook estate.

Adventure Hooks:

Most of the party’s assignments are doled out by a Mr. Moiler, a functionary of the Earl’s who always seems to be under the weather and insists that they have their meetings while he takes lunch at a local tavern. Presumptuous and frequently unpleasant, Moiler is quick with the money when he has proof the work’s been done not wanting to waste any more of his finite time with the party than he has to.  It’s during one of these meetings that the functionary begins choking and coughing like he’s going to hack up a lung, and right there on the dinner table spits up a mass of rotten plant matter that bears an uncomfortable resemblance to a human hand. While the party is paralyzed with shock, the limb begins to skitter away, barely recovered Moiler demanding that they catch it before it escapes or the other inn patrons see it.

Eastbrook has many concerns that need tending to: Mines that must be checked on, merchants that must be negotiated with, monsters that must be driven off from tenant lands. Then there the more unusual jobs: travelling to nearby towns and escorting a member of the royal horticultural society to the Eastbrook estate without ever being invited in themselves, having a stern chat with a local priest who’s rabblerousing about all the body-snatchers that’ve been plaguing local cemeteries lately. These odd jobs pay the best, but there’s only so much weirdness the party can take right? ... Right?

Dressed fancy and forced to leave their weapons at home, the party are finally given a chance of meeting their employer when tasked with escorting him to a social function at which he needs to show some muscle. They’re given a very brief impression of the earl: tired eyes, fingers are stained with green and soil as if his servants plucked him out of the garden and threw a bit of finery over his thinning frame. Leaving them to attend whatever business he left his secluded estate for, the party are approached by a young woman with a knowing smile and a lot of interesting questions about Eastbrook. If the party are willing to do a little snooping on her behalf, she’d be ever so grateful, and is sure she can arrange some work for them in the future should  their current arrangement fall through.

Background: Before the death of his wife, Earl Wennley had a deep and abiding love for growing things. Taking far more interest in the upkeep and administration of his tenant lands than any of his peers, the earl would forgo social functions and ditch his noble finery to lend a hand when there was planting or fieldwork to be done, simply to feel the dark earth beneith his fingers.

His wife Ren was a firebrand and world traveller, and originally began courting the earl by brining him exotic flowers from distant lands to cultivate in his hothouse. They were different people who wanted different things from their lives, but they also wanted eachother, and that was enough for love to take root between them.

That was before the sickness caught up to lady Ren, one of those bitter hereditary things that lurks around in the family tree like a viper. In a matter of months it claimed Ren of Eastbrook and took Wennley’s every joy with it, but not before he discovered that one of the flowers she’d brought him was thought to have restorative properties, claimed by some occult scholars to be able to even be able to resurrect the dead.

Thus began Eastbrook’s decent down a dark road, cultivating the plant’s growth in his lover’s dirt-packed casket, fetching more cadavers for its trailing roots to feed off of while trying to bring its many strange flowers to fruit.  The process has taken years, resulting in spasmodic gasps of resurrection, twitches and mutterings, but no true return of the vitality or wholeness that haunts Eastbrook’s memories.

Further Adventures:

a sick vitality has spread throughout the Eastbrook estate, twisting the plants he once took such judicious care of and bringing forth strange hybrids and mutations. While most of this dangerous flora remains on the estate, a few have spread their seed over subsequent seasons and ended up popping up in surrounding lands. The disruption caused by such plants may inadvertently put the party on their employer’s trail.  

What poor Wennley cannot know is that his lover wasn’t merely taken from him by chance, but by the insidious will of Zuggtmoy, demon queen of despair and decay.  Eastbrook was unwittingly chosen as a saint of Zuggtmoy, who now awaits the moment she is summoned into Ren’s resurrected body to walk the world of mortals and enjoy the people’s sorrow first hand. 

Many of the Eastbrook estate staff are sick, some fungal infection that’s taken up residence in their lungs and produces a purple-green rash they’re all too quick to conceal. This sickness makes them dosile and unquestioning, and is spread by Moiler, a demonic agent of Zuggtmoy in disguise, who was likewise the one to slip Eastbrook the particular texts that hinted at the flower’s potential uses. Should any of the staff fall ( or be slain by Moiler should he be discovered) their bodies will rise as mould covered undead.

#dnd #dungeons and dragons #d&d #5e #zuggtmoy #demon #mystery #patron #haunting #town #Village #low level #mid level #intrigue #fiend #undead

[80linesofvirgil]

Do all your characters have names/backstories yet? I'd loooove to hear them!!

Ok let's fuckin do dis.

This is Warwick the ranger. He/him. Raised in the countryside by a miller who found him as a baby floating in a boat. Possibly an heir to the throne. Drinks too much. Wants to be a slut but a bit too insecure to follow through.

This is Mersilde the Sorceress. She/her. Raised as a herb witch in the wilderness by her grandfather. Discovered and trained by the previous magical advisor to the throne, the position to which she has recently ascended.

This is Dami the Paladin. She/her/they/them. Born of a noble house. Likes to punch above her weight class. Renowned draugr slayer. Enjoys tournaments a little too much, reigning champion in the sword and shield bouts for three years running.

This is Frett the Bard. Half-orc. He/him. Abandoned as a baby at a tavern in a busy town and raised by its halfling innkeeper. Learned his bardic and bedroom skills from the many wandering bards who frequented said tavern. Absolute himborc. Wants you to enjoy his baking. Frequently forgets how big he is.

This is Reuben the rogue. He/him. Trans. Raised in a thieves guild. Sardonic, deadly, guarded, big cat energy but secretly just wants you to hold him in your big strong green arms.

Shabbir the mage. They/them. Naturally magically gifted, fled their home city where they grew up as a street orphan. Learned the ways of the nobility and is now a magical advisor to the throne.

David the knight. He/him. Working class hero. Worked his way from squire to knighthood. Second place in the tournament circuit for the last three years. Would like to slay a dragon.

Prince Kirian. He/him. Heir to the throne. Complete slut, tamed by the charms and backtalk of Shabbir. Loves his horses and his armour. Rumours of a lost twin.

Aaaaaaaand more to come 🤠

#asks #gay fantasia #worldbuilding #my ocs

[frantic-fiction]

More Than

(Pic cheekylittlepup)

Astarion x Tav, Astarion x gn!Reader

Summary: In the midst of battle a stray fireball hits you causing damage to your hair. Your hair is part of your identity, losing it seem unimaginable. But it's just hair right?

Notes/Tags: Tav has curly hair (I have curly hair, this is purely self-indulgent, hurt/comfort, Astarion being a good partner

Word Count: 1.1k

Masterlist

The delicate flakes crumble between your fingers like tiny wisps. You gaze into the porcelain sink, transfixed. Another pass of the brush sends singed strands cascading into the bowl.

"It's just hair."

Dropping the brush onto the counter, it bounces and clatters to the tiled floor. You don't bother to pick it up because all you can see is the stranger in the mirror. Red swollen eyes and chapped lips, blood splattered across their face. But what caught your attention was the strangers' hair; what were once long beautiful curls—the types of curls people envy after—were now choppy and uneven. Your face was framed with uneven fried tendrils, and the right half of your head was singed so close to your scalp that you're just now registering the painful burn that grazed your face.

"It's just hair."

It could have been worse. You've dealt with broken bones and stab wounds. Experienced moments where you'd be dead if magic did not course through Faerun. So why does this feel different? It was a simple fight. It was child's play for the party, just a couple of cultists. But you didn't see the halfling. At least not until his firebolt burnt half your hair off.

"It's just hair."

Karlach and Wyll tried to assure you that something could be done, that a new hairstyle could be salvaged with what's left of your hair. You disagreed and promptly ignored the two for the rest of the journey back to the Tavern. After you asked, Gale gave you his spare cloak, and you threw it over your head. You took the back stairway, too afraid to face the others. To face him.

Taking a deep breath, you pick up the pair of shears, the cold metal feeling daunting in your hand. You grab a chunk of hair with shaky hands and snip it off. You grimace, squeezing your eyes shut. Biting your lips hard, you force yourself not to cry, not now. Because if you cry now, you'll never be able to finish what needs to be done. But the tasks get hard the more hair clogs the porcelain basin.

Inch by inch, your best qualities and attractiveness are cut away because no one says how much they like your eyes or your skin. No, it's your thick curls and long hair. Hair. Your identity, your safety blanket, is now ruined because you didn't pay attention. Why were you such an idiot?

Tears blur your vision, and you throw the scissors with a scream. The mirror cracks, and you slide down the wall. Hugging your knees to your chest, you allow yourself to cry. Why bother anyway? A haircut isn't going to help anything.

"Tav?" Astarions's voice is concerned. He presses up against the door, and the handle jiggles against the lock.

You stiffened and pushed farther away from the door until your back hit the tub. You uselessly wiped the tears away. "I want to be alone." Your voice betrayed you, and you know Astarion will not be leaving.

"Darling," he sighs softly, and the door clicks open because, of course, it does. "The wizard mentioned…" Astarion trails off when another sob rolls through you.

He quickly drops to his knees and scoops you into his arms. Astarion cradles you against his chest, and you sob, crying as he rubs your back and kisses your face. He tells you he loves you until your wails are reduced to sniffles, and you have nothing to give. The two of you sit quietly in each other's embrace until Astarion speaks.

"Do you mind if I do something?"

Furrowing your brows, you nod hesitantly and allow Astarion to pull you to your feet and lead you to a chair outside the bathroom. He sits down and retreats to the bathroom to grab your brush and the shears. You curl in on yourself under Astarion's gaze.

"I'm very sorry this happened, love," he said, pressing a sweet kiss to the apple of his cheek. "I won't be able to undo the damage, but if you'll let me, I can even it out and get rid of the damage."

You reach for Astarion's hand, and tears trickle down your cheeks. "Do what you need to do."

He works in silence, and you have nothing to say; the only sound that breaks the room's stillness is your sniffles and the sound of the shears. You try to ignore the sight of your curls falling to the ground, but the pile keeps growing. When Astarion finishes up with the back of your head, he moves to the front and begins to fix your bangs and tackle the right side of your head. His lips are in a concentrated pout as he intently layered your hair.

After what felt like an eternity, Astarion stands up, dusting your hair off your shoulders. You're on your feet and rushing to the floor-length mirror across the room. You freeze midstep just before the mirror; swallowing hard, you fist your shirt.

At first look, you're genuinely startled; it takes you a moment to recognize yourself—your face, skin, eyes, mouth, everything all the same. But your hair is so drastically different it's like you're a different person. Once down to your mid-back, the hair sat just above your shoulder, gentle curls falling in ringlets. Strikingly, half the hair was shaved, giving the whole look a sharp edge. It was much thinner than before, and you felt somehow lighter. It didn't look bad, but you weren't sure how you felt.

"What do you think?" Astarion whispers from behind you, reflection absent in the mirror.

You raise your hand and run it through the curls; they jump back up upon release. Turning around, you look up at him. "Do you think it looks good?" You redirect, not knowing how to answer his question.

Astarion smiles and pulls you in by the waist. Cupping your jaw, he gives you a sensual kiss that has you melting. He quickly pulls away, "I am quite a magnificent hairstylist. It's just another of my many talents."

You shove him, and Astarion laughs brightly. You try to move away, but Astarion tightens his grip. "My love, your hair is just a small part of you. You could have all your hair fall out this instant, and I would find you just as beautiful."

"Really?" He nods, and you tackle him with another kiss. Gods, you loved this man.

"Though I would certainly miss pulling your curls when I-"

"Astarion!"

"Did I forget to mention this look suits you very well. Make you look positively delectable." And then your lost in each other.

So... yeah this is kinda what I wish I had when I cut my hair. Not that I burnt my hair off but after i cut my hair, all I heard was how people miss my curls, and that I shouldn't have cut it. Got me thinking about if my hair was really that important. I don't know what i'm trying to say anymore........

Let me know what y'all think

Taglist: @heartfully10 @ayselluna @marina-and-the-memes @anixson @canonicalchaoticneutral @toadsbitch @meulinkitten-blog

Want to be added? Interact with this post.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #reader insert #bg3 #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion imagine #fanfic #writing #hurt/comfort

[juimondraws]

A new piece featuring my sweetest Astarion! Ahhh! This is Bree, a client's bardly halfling tav! They're having a break in a tavern along their quest to cure Astarion's vampirism!

#baldursgate3 #bg3 #astarion #tav #characterart #commission #bg3 fanart

[the-twisted-tales-tavern]

Twisted Tavern Specials

Critical Failure

Female Muses: Keyleth of the Ashari, Vex’ahlia DeRolo, Pike Trickfoot, Cassandra DeRolo, Jester Lavorre, Yasha Nydoorin, Beauregard Lionette, Marion Lavorre, Nott the Brave, Yasha Nydoorin, Fearne Calloway, Imogen Temult, Laudna, Deanna Leimert

Yang Xiao-Long (Human Barbarian/Monk), Blake Belladonna (Tabaxi Assassin Rogue), Nora Valkyrie (Dwarf Storm Herald Barbarian), Pyrrha Nikos (Human Champion Fighter), Cinder Fall (Human Undying Warlock) // Hinata Hyuuga (Human Open Hand Monk), Tsunade Senju (High Elf Life Cleric), Naruko Uzumaki (Kitsune Barbarian/Monk) // Lucy Heartfilia (Aasimar Celestial Warlock), Juvia Lockster (Water Genasi Storm Sorcerer), Erza Scarlet (Human Battlemaster Fighter), Mirajane Strauss (Human Lycan Demon Blood Hunter) // Rukia Kuchiki (Halfling Bladesinger Wizard), Rangiku Matsumoto (Human Glamour Bard), Tier Harribel (Triton Shark Totem Barbarian), Neliel Tu Odelschwanck (Satyr Ancients Paladin)

Clover Beandyburke, Peregrine Weis, Jaerik Aldraeyds, Terra Verdell, Twilight Obsidia

Kinks: Non-Con, Monster-Fucking, Mind-Break, Bad Ending

Memes: Fucked Stupid, Rough Sex, Punishing Sex

#dungeon master's notes (important posts)

[no-more-tales-tavern]

Twisted Tales Tavern Special:

On the Road Again~

Unless you're getting shot out of a cannon every time you and your party sets off on a new quest, the journey to your destination can be a long one. Townships are often days— sometimes over a week—of hard travel apart from each other, and between random encounters and general boredom, there's a million different ways to fill the time between point A and B. Just try not to lose yourself so much in the journey that you forget your destination entirely~

Canon Muses: Keyleth of the Air Ashari (Half-Elf Moon Druid), Vex'ahlia Vessar/DeRolo (Half-Elf Beastmaster Ranger), Jester Lavorre (Tiefling Trickster Cleric), Nott the Thicc (Goblin Arcane Trickster Rogue), Yasha Nydoorin (Aasimar Zealot Barbarian), Fearne Calloway (Satyr Wildfire Druid), Deanna Leimert (Gnome Life Cleric)

Ruby Rose (Human Ranger/Rogue), Weiss Schnee (Half-Elf Lore Bard), Blake Belladonna (Tabaxi Assassin Rogue), Yang Xiao-Long (Human Barbarian/Monk), Pyrrha Nikos (Human Champion Fighter)

Ochako Uraraka (Human Graviturgy Wizard), Momo Yaoyorozu (Human Monk/Rogue), Mina Ashido (Tiefling Spores Druid), Nejire Hado (Air Genasi Long Death Monk), Rumi Usagiyama (Lagomore Barbarian/Monk)

Test Muses: Anko Mitarashi (Half-Elf Assassin Rogue), Naruko Uzumaki (Half-Elf Beast Barbarian), Rukia Kuchiki (Halfling Bladesinger Wizard), Rangiku Matsumoto (Half-Elf Glamour Bard), Neliel Tu Odelschwanck (Satyr Ancients Paladin), Lucy Heartfilia (Aasimar Celestial Soul Sorcerer), Erza Scarlet (Human Battlemaster Fighter)

OC Muses: Jaerik Aldraeyds, Yora Vor’ziira, Esper Willowwind, Jade Ren, Terra Verdell

Kinks: Outdoors, Monster-Fucking, Hiding, Cheating, Mind-Break

Memes: Some Like it Rough v1, Overwhelmed, The Great Outdoors

#brewery tour (important posts)