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creative-frequency · 3 months

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Raphael x Reader: Act I: The Ring

Summary: It's always the terms and conditions that you get into a mess. And with Raphael, there always seems to be a lot of those. This is the second flashback oneshot for the main story of the series. Word count: 2269 Notes: Some romantic tension, warning for (slightly drunk) int8 Tav.

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Your rounds walking around the merrymaking camp had begun to resemble the tottering of a deep rothe kid. There was drinking, dancing and as tasty a cuisine as one might expect in the middle of a forest, but most importantly, everyone was alive and well. The three goblin leaders were dead, so the tieflings were free to continue their journey towards Baldur’s Gate. Your group had a little pit stop to make on the way at Moonrise Towers, but the plan was to eventually follow them – to go back home.

Wine had been flowing a bit too generously in the course of the evening, so you stepped away for a breather by the water. You had just leaned down to wash your hands in the river, when out of the corner of your eye, you saw the grass rustling.

“Who’s there?” you asked, straightening up and ready to summon a weapon into your hand.

In the grass before you stood a dark-haired dwarven woman, smiling benignly and fully given up on trying to hide. She looked at you up and down with curiosity. The woman didn’t seem to pose a threat, but you sharpened up as best as you could, already feeling dishearteningly sober.

“You’ve got keen eyes, warlock,” she said, not at all taken aback by being discovered, “Korrilla Hearthflame. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.” She bowed her head down slightly as a mark of respect.

“And why is that?” you asked in suspicion, still ready to sling a bolt of fire at her if needed.

“Raphael is terribly excited about you… and your condition,” Korrilla explained.

Your shoulders relaxed at the implication.

“He is your patron too.”

“Yes, the respectable Raphael is my master.”

Out of courtesy, you fought back the urge to raise a brow or snicker at her choice of words. You were quite new to this warlock deal, but if Raphael started insisting you call him ‘master’, the deal would be off, no matter the consequences.

“You and I will have time aplenty to speak – but not tonight,” Korrilla continued and a fiery portal opened behind her, “This night is one of celebration – enjoy it while you can.”

Without any further explanation, she stepped into the portal and disappeared with a small wave of her hand. You quickly looked around, wondering how no one had seen your little talk or the light of the portal. The noise your companions and the tieflings were making was gradually increasing under the starry sky.

You decided to bring the matter of Korrilla up first thing in the morning, but for the time being there was nothing else to do besides splash some cold river water on your face and get back to the party.

Idly, you wondered would your patron himself even deign to visit you. Surely Raphael had more important matters to attend to. You tried not to be disappointed at the thought.

The party got noisier and rowdier with each passing cup of wine as you continued your rounds, chatting with your drunken companions, the celebrating tieflings, the druid Halsin and inexplicably melancholic Zevlor. From afar, you cast a wide side-eye at Withers, the skeletal companion who seemed to always know where you were going to camp next. He was the only one you had not talked to yet. No one else seemed to notice or care about him. You opted out of a discussion about the ever turning wheels of fate and paced into another direction.

Astarion was standing by his tent, nursing a cup of wine and looking uncharacteristically bored for a night of celebration. With everything he had told you about himself and his past, you would’ve thought he would be delighted in an event of such revelry.

The moment he saw you approaching, his face lit up with a charming smile. “Ah, there you are, darling.”

“Having fun?” you asked in lieu of greeting.

“Not quite as much as I would like,” Astarion said and sipped the wine. His cunning eyes scanned over you.

“Hah. Not enough of a party for you?”

“It’s missing the key element of a blood sacrifice,” he deadpanned, “The music could be… better, too.” He glanced at the bard Alfira in the middle of camp. She had been strumming her lute and singing with some of the other tieflings for hours.

Smiling playfully, you said: “Well, the night is still young. I’m sure we can find a proper sacrifice for you yet. Let’s see…”

Playfully, you looked around to complete the joke. Before you could comprehend what you saw, your heart started beating faster and you had to do a double take. The grin faltered on your lips, but Astarion was too busy draining his cup of wine to notice.

“You’re always such a delight, darling,” Astarion purred and stepped to lean in closer.

Chatting with one of the drunken tieflings, was Raphael. Your eyes met. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips and his one brow elegantly, invitingly arched.

“So, I was thinking… we could make our own entertainment,” Astarion drawled on. He ran one finger seductively down your arm as he spoke, but you barely registered it. He had been throwing some flirty remarks here and there earlier too. Most of the time you had just deflected them with a nice thank you or a laugh.

You turned Astarion’s hand out of the way, eyes fixated on your patron and didn’t know what came out of your mouth as you started to leave:

“What? Oh, sure, I guess. Hold on a moment, I’ll be right back…”

Raphael was actually there in your little camp. He looked even more handsome than you remembered – and more relaxed. He was visibly expecting you to join him.

Astarion spread his hands in confusion, mildly offended and muttering as you brushed past him and made a beeline towards the devil.

Had Korrilla told Raphael that you were celebrating? Was it customary for a patron to check in with their warlock at such events? You had no idea what to make of it as you walked closer, heart hammering and breaths short.

Raphael said something to make the tiefling leave and turned his full attention to you. He looked impossibly complacent. The back of your neck was tingling – in excitement, you soon realised.

“Ah, good evening,” Raphael greeted you with a small bow.

Despite the lack of courtly manners, you attempted a light curtsy. It made his smile curve steeply with amusement.

“Good evening, Raphael. What are you doing here?” you said in a more composed manner than your inner turmoil let on.

Raphael spread his arms to emphasise how pleasing he thought the environment was. “I was delighted to hear you were throwing a little party to celebrate the slaughter of all those goblins. A whole camp, indeed,” he mused.

It twisted your insides when phrased like that. “That’s… correct.”

“A true testament to your skill,” he continued with an incline of his head.

You couldn’t say whether he was mocking you or not. You shifted on your feet.

“Um. Thank you,” you said and swallowed, “But surely you didn’t come here just to sing my praises?”

Raphael chuckled with mirth. “As per our agreement, I’ve come to provide you with the means to summon your patron,” he touched his chest with a hand, “Namely, myself.”

You weren’t so sure you liked his expression. “‘Means’? What ‘means’?” you asked warily, brows drawing in puzzlement.

Raphael merely crooked a smile. “Give me your hand, my little raven.”

A shiver coursed through you. “‘Raven’?” you retorted.

Ignoring the question, he said: “A gift, for you.”

Nervously, you extended your right hand to him.

“The other hand, please. We wouldn’t want to hinder your sword arm.”

Raphael reached out to take your left hand – his hands were so warm against yours that it first took you by surprise. The second surprise got you as he slid a golden ring onto your ring finger. Too thrown off to protest, you just ogled at him, slack jawed and the wine churning inside your stomach.

Wearing an almost mischievous grin, Raphael gently touched your chin and withdrew.

“Clause H, section 7; ‘The soul-bearer shall never withdraw the magical focus item from their person.’”

Blinking and looking up and down from the ring to the devil’s face and back, you couldn’t quite understand what he was reciting.

“W-what?”

Raphael pointed a finger in the air as he continued: “Clause H, section 8; ‘The soul-bearer shall only use the magical focus item to attempt to summon the soul-binder. The soul-binder shall answer the call at their discretion.’”

“Are those clauses in my contract?” you asked, still stunned and examined the ring. It was a golden, petite thing with some kind of sharp symbol engraved on it. It weighed nothing but you felt its presence on you as if it were a sack of stones. Had Raphael just said you couldn’t take the ring off? And that it was magical?

“Indeed. You are welcome to visit my House of Hope to read the contract any time you wish.” There was a teasing edge in Raphael’s tone and you wondered what it meant.

“Any more of those terms and conditions I should know about?” you asked.

Raphael chuckled. The deep sound travelled through your bones, tickling pleasantly.

“Not at present, little raven.” He lifted a finger in the air. “There is one more thing to complete the ritual.”

“Ritual?”

“Listen closely, since I will state this only once: ‘Dominus, inferior ad te me flecto inferni.”

He pronounced each word with care. Your lips moved in sync with his, involuntarily but silent. The phrase was branded into your memory and you felt the ring warm against your palm in response. It was a simple summoning ritual. As long as you held the ring, you would only need to speak those words and Raphael would know. And he might answer your call and come to you – if he felt like it.

You examined the ring once again. It looked so innocent but you could feel the power radiating from it. Speaking those words had somehow activated it. It was now primed to act as the focus item for the ritual.

“...’Flecto inferni’? What’s that supposed to mean?” you finally asked.

“Every good ritual requires a fetching verbal component,” Raphael replied patiently, hand to his chin. As if he hadn’t spent the last three days perfecting the words to go with the ritual spell.

“But the left ring finger?” you insisted, ears suddenly burning from the insinuation that you only just now realised.

Raphael had the audacity to laugh.

“You’d better start rehearsing your lies, little raven.”

Because lie you would about what the ring symbolised. You squared your shoulders and faced the gauging look on your patron.

“Well, thank you for taking the time to bring me this,” you said.

“I will always make time for you,” he purred and chuckled.

A surge of toe-curling surprise made you look bashfully away.

“A-and thank you again.” You motioned awkwardly to yourself. “For the powers.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Raphael replied with an incline of his head, “After all, I am invested in your success. Korrilla will keep me posted on your… progress.”

Sensing that the conversation was about to end, you glanced at the ring and lifted it to better see the symbol on it.

“Will you at least tell me what the symbol on the ring is?”

Raphael’s lips curved into a sly smile. “I’m sure your friend Karlach can assist in deciphering it. Let it be a surprise.” He chuckled again, impossibly satisfied. Somehow you started thinking he was doing all this just to keep himself entertained.

“I’m afraid I’m already late for my next meeting. Ta-ta, little raven!”

Raphael bowed and disappeared in a flash of flames.

You shot a pondering look at the ring and spun to look around the camp until you found the burning red tiefling laughing loudly at something Rolan had just said. Biting your lip, you wondered if it would be worth the trouble to ask Karlach about it. On the other hand, you couldn’t imagine Raphael would give you anything nasty as a surprise. Better to take the devil by the horns. At least you would know.

“Hey, Karlach?” you waved a hand as you approached her and Rolan, who was rolling his sleeves up.

“‘Sup, soldier?”

Clearing your throat, you motioned Karlach closer. You could feel the heat radiating from her body and for a heartbeat it made you think about Raphael’s warm hand on yours. You cleared your throat again and Karlach started to look worried.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“No, I just… have a weird question. What does ‘dominus, inferior ad te me flecto inferni’ mean?” Grimacing, you faced the barbarian.

Karlach’s mouth was agape. She was obviously taken by surprise with what you wanted to know and you started to panic a little since you had no idea what the sentence meant. Before you could apologise, she forced her mouth shut to think while pure curiosity glinted in her eyes.

“‘Lord or Master, I bow down to you in hell.’ Or it could also be more like ‘lie down’ for them. Y’know, in a naughty, adults-only way.” She grinned. “Why?”

That fucker.

That bastard devil.

You groaned. Suddenly, you didn’t want to show the ring to Karlach anymore. You wanted to yank it off and throw it into the River Chiontar.

“...No reason.”

This devil patron and his antics would be your doom.

#bg3 raphael #raphael bg3 #raphael x reader #raphael x you #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #fanfiction #the devil wears house slippers

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ellekhen · 22 days

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Hand, Hearth, and Home

Chapter 41 - The Return

Chapter Summary: More than two decades before the adventure - before even Lydia, Mairead, and Tavi - Church met his first friends in unlikely circumstances. In the present, Church tells the rest of his companions (most of) the truth, and it only adds to the warlock's burdens as they get closer to the Shadowlands. He and Astarion share a cozy moment together as they explore their new dynamic, but an unwelcome visit swiftly brings a dark reminder of reality to the both of them.

Pairing(s): Astarion x Male Tav (Main); Past OC x Male Tav Rating: Explicit Length: 193K+ words; Chapters 41/65

Excerpt below:

“And what have you got there?” Astarion asks him curiously, eyeing a small jar clutched in the tiefling’s hand.

Church glances down at it with a start — as if surprised to see it there himself.

“Ah — horn balm,” he explains, gesturing vaguely at his head. “Prevents them from getting dry and flaky and keeps them… looking presentable?”

“How have I never seen you do this before?” Astarion asks in astonishment, holding his hand out. Church sheepishly relinquishes the jar for his examination.

“I usually do it in the morning, actually,” he chuckles. “Normally I’d do it at night, but…”

He trails off, flushing slightly as the elf holds the jar up to his nose and breathes in the fragrance deep.

“But…?” Astarion raises an eyebrow.

“Well… lately… I mean before we got… here…” Church stammers, clearly flustered. “You and I would be… together, at night. The balm can get a bit greasy and I wanted you to have…” he blushes deeper. “...a good grip. You know.”

He groans at Astarion’s delighted, sharp-fanged grin. Mortified, the tiefling holds out his hand to collect the jar.

“How… considerate of you,” Astarion simpers, not making a move to return it. “Well, now that we won’t be engaging in such tussles, why don’t you go back to your usual routine? I’d love to watch,” he adds in a lascivious purr.

Church chuckles at him, but smiles in consideration. “Perhaps I will. But, I already got started, so…” he beckons impatiently for the jar. “Come on — I’ve got to sleep at... some... point...?”

His trails off as Astarion, instead of returning it, crawls closer to him, nearly straddling his lap as the elf continues to study the jar with mild curiosity.

“Such a pity,” he hums, dipping a couple fingers in and swirling them hypnotically atop the waxy surface. Church’s eyes blink slowly as he ogles up at him. “There’s an opportunity to add a bit more fragrance to this, and make it a tad more alluring…”

“There’s herbs and shit in there,” Church interjects with a startled laugh as Astarion maneuvers himself completely onto the tiefling’s lap. His hands reflexively settle at the elf’s hips — holding him gently, but steadily.

Astarion smirks down at him and the tiefling looks up with bright, round eyes as the rogue finally retrieves his slicked fingers to begin applying and massaging the balm into one horn — and then the other.

“A-ah,” Church shudders, closing his eyes at the sensation of his touch. “Ohh. This is strange. When I’m not the one… ah…”

“Why the hells did you not let me do this earlier in our journey?” Astarion grumbles, no longer teasing with his touch as he gathers more balm, warming it between his hands before massaging each of them around both horns simultaneously. “I’ve got very talented hands.”

“No one ever does it right,” Church mumbles sheepishly. “And I didn’t want you to…”

He trails off, sighing and leaning into the elf’s ministrations.

“Didn’t want me to what?” Astarion asks in exasperation.

“I… didn’t think you wanted to touch me more than necessary,” Church admits hesitantly. “You already did enough. I didn’t want to ask… more of you.”

They sit together in silence for a bit as Astarion continues to rub in the balm, thoughtfully.

“Astarion—,” Church’s worried voice begins, but the elf interrupts him.

“Let me do this for you,” Astarion says tersely. “Now, and… whenever you need it. At night.”

Church answers with uncertain silence.

Astarion scoffs. “And if I’m not doing it right, just show me how instead of letting me bumble off with it.”

“It’s not that,” the tiefling chuckles. His hands still brush tentatively against the elf’s hips, which shift subtly upon his lap with every movement. “You don’t have to do this for the sake of my — ah,” he clears his throat past an inadvertent moan. “You don’t owe me anything, remember?”

“I don’t,” Astarion says lightly. “But perhaps selfishly, I want to do this for you. If only to hear your little noises again,” he adds suggestively.

Church smiles weakly up at him before closing his eyes into his touch. “That should be good enough,” he says softly. “You only ever need a bit, so that should take care of me for a couple days, honestly…”

Astarion finally replaces the lid and relinquishes the jar into the tiefling’s hand, grimacing at the grease upon his skin.

“Let me take care of that,” Church chuckles, setting the jar down and brushing his hands upon Astarion’s, cleaning them with a spark of prestidigitation. He seems quite pleased with himself that he can finally do that cantrip again.

They stay there for just a beat…

…before Astarion’s cradling Church’s face in his hands, kissing him thoroughly as the tiefling’s arms wrap around his waist. They taste and hold each other close, moaning softly between each breath lost between their lips. It’s only instinctive that Astarion lets his body move lithely upon the tiefling’s lap, following the motions of his mouth, his hands, and chasing the soft sounds the tiefling can’t help but make at the drag of the elf’s tongue against his…

Astarion knows what he would normally do in this position. He would let out a soft moan, grinding down upon Church’s stiffened cock. Maybe he’d shove the tiefling back down into the bedroll, lavishing upon him an efficient, but pleasurable experience. Perhaps the horn balm would become an interesting improvised lubricant. He’d have the tiefling whimpering and climaxing into the very skilled hands that had been massaging his horns just minutes earlier…

That’s what he’d do… if that’s what he wanted.

But for now, he simply pulls away from Church’s delicious lips, nuzzling his forehead against those strange scales sprouting from his sighing, smiling companion’s forehead.

What was it the tiefling had said the other night? Ah, yes —

“And just like this is… pretty perfect as it is.”

Astarion breathes in deep.

Start from the beginning!

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metamagic-adept · 3 months

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please tell me everything about your tav 🥺👉👈

thank you jack!! 💛 i'm also gonna tag @floralprintshark bc moss asked about them too 🙏

My tav is a tiefling warlock named Never (chosen name). Never grew up in a rural farming village and had a fairly happy childhood. As a teen aspiring to do good and help people, they joined up with the army of a local lord and soon discovered that war was much less straightforward and noble than they originally thought. Plenty of soldiers on the enemy's side were people with Never's same ideals, or had been conscripted and fought without much choice. A faction of cultists on the enemy's side took advantage of Never's doubt and sympathy, tricking them into releasing some prisoners, one of whom was a prominent cult member named Indra. The cultists then kidnapped Never and tortured them when they refused to fight on the cult's side. Indra was their main tormentor, and is responsible for Never's prominent facial scars. She used to tell Never that they would "never be happy" as long as they insisted on doing what they thought was right. Never only escaped by making a deal with a mysterious patron (Great Old One). After this, they renamed themself Never because of Indra's words. Some days their name feels like a curse, and others a defiant blessing. Based on how things play out, they may go back to their former name, or pick a new one.

I made Never for my first playthrough because their choices are usually the ones I want to pick anyway; it's good to do good. Never is currently closest to Shadowheart and Astarion, though I'm likely romancing Shadowheart on this run. Normal party comp is Shadowheart, Astarion, and Karlach. Oh and they are a pact of the blade warlock cause hitting things is fun :)

Here's what they look like!

#i love them #bg3 never tag

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mediterraneanmenace · 4 months

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Pairing: Raphael x Raksha (OC, not Tav/Durge) I consider Tav a separate character with their specific story elements - Raksha never gets abducted by the Mind Flayers, nor she ever gets a tadpole. Her home is also not Baldur's Gate but the city of Helgabal, in the kingdom of Damara! :)

Warnings: 18+ for sexual themes (in later chapters), age gap (Raphael is like... *several* centuries older, if not millennia), slow burn.

Summary: Eleven years before the events of Baldur's Gate 3, Raphael's attentions for a young, ambitious tiefling turn into something deep enough for him to want her as his bride. There's only one problem - Raksha slays infernal beings for a living. (This is pretty much an experiment feat. a Raphael more in touch with his human feelings)

"Perfume lingers about your flesh Like incense about a censer; You charm like the evening, Tenebrous, passionate nymph

Ah! the most potent philtres Are weaker than your languor, And you know the caresses That make the dead live again!

You tear me open, dark beauty, With derisive laughter, And then look at my heart With eyes as soft as moonlight"

[Les Fleurs du Mal — Charles Baudelaire]

[24 Ches, 1481 DR]

Raphael's mind was so inconveniently clouded by that mortal; a tiefling whose veins bore Archdevil Baalzebul's blood - his father's greatest and most hated rival.

Four long years he'd been watching, stalking her since she started her rise to Paladin Captain at nineteen until now, at twenty-three. At first, the Cambion didn't give much weight to her androgynous visage appearing in his dreams; not until he found himself fantasizing more and more about his hand lost in the sea of her inky black hair, with her muscular arms around his neck...

If Mephistopheles' ambition to oust Asmodeus mirrored his own, Raksha's rapid promotion wasn't too different from Baalzebul's rise as the Master of the Nine Hells' favorite - but unlike his father, Raphael saw that as something worthy of praise rather than enmity.

Fate was not without irony for the man who adopted and raised Raksha was the head of an extremist sect of the cult of Ilmater, the "Martyred Father" - the young tiefling's zealotry was one of the main reasons she managed to climb the ranks so fast: her dedication to purge the world from vice and sin brought her to the deepest pits of Avernus to fight against evil in its home.

But that didn't deter Raphael from wanting Raksha for himself, even if he was everything she fought against: she was the forbidden fruit, the sweetest he would ever taste.

He would stay in the mirror room at the House of Hope for hours, scrying the tiefling go about her life, without knowing he even existed if not for some fleeting glances whenever he visited the court of the Lord she served, the cathedral she lived at or the training grounds his beloved Paladin would train at along with her companions.

Raksha would look at him and ignore his presence as yet another curious, random person wanting to see the famous Holy Vengeance, whose sword slayed countless fiends from the Hells. Korrilla, sick of seeing the pathetic state of longing her boss was in, decided to prod him into doing something.

"Just go talk to her. You had a thousand mistresses" - the Warlock thought for a split second to her sister - "This... Raksha can't be too different from all the others, no?" "You are right, many were the lovers to entertain me in my boudoir"

Raphael's thoughtful eyes fixated on Raksha's reflection in the Scrying Eye and an almost paternal smile appeared on his lips: she was practicing the speech for her nomination as Holy Inquisitor that would have taken place that very night. He knew she wouldn't have stopped until it was perfect. A formal, high society event that would culminate in a ball was the crowning moment of a lifetime of sacrifices for her.

"But she's... Something I rarely met in all these centuries. A kindred spirit"

Korrilla didn't have a hard time figuring out why: personality wise, Raksha was incredibly similar to her master's younger self with her pompous, brash attitude - a pride not unwarranted, given her accomplishments.

"I guess it makes sense" the Warlock thought, shrugging. After all, that was the same man who would fuck an Incubus glamoured to look exactly like him so falling in love for someone who had a brain similar to his wasn't too far off.

"I'll have to ask you to keep an eye on the House for me tonight, Korrilla" - Raphael ran his hand through his hair in a nervous gesture - "I have a ball to attend to"

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #raphael #raphael x oc #The Devil's Bride #Raksha #tiefling #or is she...?#i use she/her for Raksha but she pretty much doesnt care about gender and WILL be described as he/him by some characters #and she doesn't correct them. Sometimes she uses potions to present as physically male too tbf #corrected the date to be accurate to DnD (Ches instead of March)#cause we're nerds here

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cambion-companion · 6 months

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Hi! I am fiendish-appreciation (not my main account, an therefore, cant send asks from it, which kind of sucks😒) Look, I know I said that I liked your oneshot about saving Raphael from Cania, but I need to go into detail! 😤

first than all, it needs to be said, Korilla is underrated as hell (this beautiful sexy warlock is one of the many npcs that should be romanceable, and I will not hear otherwise😭) and is the best employee ever, maybe too good, but since I love Raphael so much, I am ok with it( but still!🤣) but what I am trying to say is, my poor baby girl really pulled through for Raphael with what she thought would be her last breaths didn’t she?😢

“Who’s the damsel in distress?” Astarion asked"

I need to ask, is this a reference to what he said when Volo needed rescuing? "This damsel may be middle-aged, but let's get him out of distress." because if so, it applies perfectly here too, and I love it🤣

"A direct confrontation with the archdevil himself was out of the question."

a smart decision, common sense, has clearly been applied here (...having said that, ever since learning about Raphael's fate should he die, I have been dying to beat Mephistopheles into HIS final death... but I like the idea of a Tav who has gotten more powerful going as support for Raphael, so that HE can kill his dad and eat him (for the sake of poetic justice) even more!🥰)

Tav, my dear oblivious fool, I think that when you decide to go to the hells, more specifically, breaking into an archdevil's vault, all to rescue someone, that at this point is more of a hindrance than a help... you should not be THAT surprised that your emotion is "unexplainable relief" that they are ok🤣 (idiots to lovers)

Raphael really thought it was the end, didn’t he? I can't imagine how surprised and confused he must have been, to see the person, that he, is totally not crushing on, coming to save him, when it would only be an "inconvenient waste of time" (by devil standards, since, what use is he to Tav now???), time that could be better spent by chasing after those who DO have the orphic hammer, plus, now that Raphael is out of the equation, tav would be getting to keep the crown for themselves, so... why would they save him???🥺😭

"his tail moving to and fro in agitation"

his tail is moving 🥺 (I just have a weakness for when Tieflings, Dragonborns and truly, any race who has a tail, moves it in a show of emotion🥹)

““It’s a magical seal.” Raphael breathed, his voice low yet sharp with anger born of desperation. “Now’s not the time to play the fool.””

Did I misunderstood severely, or he was suggesting for Tav to leave him and save themselves???😭

“You owe me a favor. A big one. I don’t know yet what I will ask of you, but you will deliver. Understood?”

funnily, I think Tav did the poor thing a favor, by bringing a transaction, a language he understands, to the table, now it kinda makes more sense! 😢

(I am also wondering what will your Tav ask Raphael IF they were even planning of asking him something in the first place 🤭 (I know what MY Tav would ask of Raphael if they were in this situation and were planning to collect, and its honestly such an hilariously easy thing for Raphael to do, since he has many underlings but it's something that would be life changing for my poor Tav XD

Raphael: really??? This is the price of my life???😡

Tav: no??? This is the price of mine!!!😠😤

Long story short, she would ask Raphael to protect IN GOOD FAITH the life of her 8 intelligence chaotic stupid, bard of a brother, so that he may die peacefully of old age, and she be free of the constant stress of worrying for his safety) But other things I can imagine a Tav could ask “let's spend time together just for the sake of spending time together” “let's go on a date" “marry me” “Make me your consort” 😳🤭)

I love how Raphael just shoos away the rest of the poor party none too gently 🤣 (how ungrateful to Astarion, the savior of middle-aged damsels in distress!😒) and brings Tav back to his house “away with you losers! I have to talk to someone who actually matters!”😤

“Korilla asked me to. It was her dying wish.” sure, it was her last wish before she died, true... but she is still very much alive, isn't she? I like the evasion there😏 (...although maybe Tav really does think Korilla is dead here, they may not have the knowledge that Korilla is fine from the notes of the author, if so, ouch😢)

still! Tav really should tell Raphael that Korilla is still alive (if they are aware ofc), I am pretty sure she is the closest thing he has for a friend, and I don't believe for one moment that he is not, at the very least "annoyed" if that's what we wanna call it, that Korilla, who is his best employee, who he has a good enough rapport with to make friendly wagers, who, as this event shows, is loyal beyond the use they have for each other, used her last breaths of life to try to get help to save him, and save him she did (Korilla and Raphael are a beloved brotp for me😌)

like, Tav is not the only one with a paltry excuse to save him, and now Raphael will have to deal with being genuinely liked by more than one person, I can't imagine what the poor bastard is thinking, he is aware of it logically, since the excuses don't hold water, but emotionally? I don't think he can quite process it (i would kill for his pov during this whole situation😩)

"In an unexpected move, Raphael strode to you and took your hand, placing a kiss to your knuckles. His breath hot on your still chilled skin. “You may even assist me, if you so desire.” He straightened.

That was as close to a “thank you” as you were going to get.""

I- I think that expresses how he feels quite well, then again, it could be just me😳

long story short: i loved this

Just. The fact you wrote essentially an analysis on that oneshot I made is...beyond my scope of current comprehension, friend.

I am so glad you like it and grateful you decided to share your thoughts with me and for sharing insight on your own Tav's backstory! I love all of it!

Oh, and I genuinely didn't know about Astarion's in-game "damsel in distress" line, haha, it just struck me as absolutely something he would say!

Also cheers to Korilla, she is a cool cat.

#raphael bg3 #lovely asks #fiendish-appreciation #raphael x tav

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thatringboy · 7 months

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God am I obsessed with the Wrong Origin drabble you made

Everyone else knows things they should not. Meanwhile, Lae’zel and Astarion are just good people now against their will

And yeah it’s silly but it’s also showing just how much Tav impacts the story. When they’re not there, there is a whole that needs to be filled. It can be the other Origins or someone like Halsin to an extent, but who deciphered Astarion’s scars? Who taught Gale that his pursuit of Mystra was so toxic? Who sought out Wyll on the shore to keep him company? Who listened to Shadowheart’s discoveries of the world around her? Who was the Good Cop to Lae’zel’s Bad Cop? Tav is the main character, they can’t just be gone

And now we’ve taken it a step further. They’re not just gone, they used to exist and now they don’t. There is a footprint, a hole, a noticeable absence that nobody can pinpoint! Who is it?! Who introduced Karlach to Dammon?! Who stopped Wyll from violating his morals?!

And the question remains: how do we get that person back?

Nooooo it was just a silly little drabble don’t read too deep into it—

But honestly? It was so easy to blame Wyll.

His good-doer attitude must have been rubbing off via tadpole magic, that must be why Astarion went out of his way to edit and compliment the little Tiefling boy’s hand-written story about him. Young Mirkon was a stupid child, for sure, but he had talent with eyeing valuables and spinning a narrative. All of those children did, Astarion’s undead heart swelled thinking of all the mischief they would get into in the city. He was glad he invested in their future prospects.

Wait— What the Hells was he thinking?! He was the great vampire spawn Astarion! He shouldn’t be getting emotional over some random kids, he should be focusing on getting this tadpole out of his head! He needed to distance himself from Wyll, that goody two-shoes Warlock was making him act a fool in the worst way possible.

The wine was dry and sour, but everyone was too busy celebrating their victory against the goblins to pay attention. Or maybe the bottle Astarion has was just a bad batch. It’d happened before. He had noticed Wyll had snuck off before the festivities began, most likely not wanting the refugees to see his new devilish look. Astarion felt a little bit of pity for him, but also found himself admiring how he bravely stood up to Mizora to protect Karlach. If Astarion focused, he could almost imagine someone doing the same for him…

Another preposterous thought. The tadpoles were really messing with him now. He needed to focus on enjoying the party and maybe finding someone to curl up with for the night. Halsin was certainly his type and a glimmer in the elf’s eye told Astarion that he was as experienced as he looked. Yet, Halsin also looked like the type to linger too long after a nightly escapade. Astarion didn’t do clingy. Lae’zel was eager, but too eager. Best to leave her in pursuit of Wyll like she had mentioned earlier. Shadowheart? No, definitely not. Gale was promising, but with the magic bomb in his chest? Probably not the safest option. And Karlach wasn’t even an option with that Infernal Engine in her chest. So who did that leave? Astarion felt himself hoping someone would come find him at his tent and proposition him, but who?

In the end, Astarion spent the night by himself, contemplating his place in the universe and wondering why fate had set him on this path.

He laid himself down in his tent and stared at the stars through a small opening in the fabric. He could only see a few through the pinhole, but they looked beautiful. Beautiful, what a profound word that was. Just outside his tent, there were drunk tieflings and snoozing bards and tadpole-ridden idiots that Astarion would have never agreed to team up with in the first place if he had the choice, but here he was. Staring at the same sky as the rest of them.

He didn’t need to sleep, and it was still odd to rest the entire night, but he did close his eyes and allow himself to meditate. He felt the tingle of the sun peak through his tent and opened his eyes, feeling somehow more refreshed than he’d ever felt in damn near two hundred years.

Astarion stretched not unlike a cat when he crawled out of his tent and made his way down to the waterside to wash himself. As he peeled off his night shirt, he felt the fabric of his small clothes rub against the raised skin of his scars. That damned contract that had been carved into his back. Just one day, he would like to go swimming without worrying about the others seeing the Infernal words and asking pestering questions about his past.

The vampire spun around in shock, immortal eyes darting around to see where Wyll must be hiding in the bushes. Or maybe Karlach? She would know of such things, right? But the tadpole wasn’t churning in his mind, so how was this possible? Astarion reached a hand behind himself and ran his fingertips over the scars he could touch and as he did, words appeared in his mind.

Mephistopheles. Profound Ascension. Sacrifice. Freedom. Diabolical lethality. Raphael. Cazador. And one more name that sat on the tip of his tongue but refused to make itself known.

And then it all came rushing back. Like a tidal wave, images of Baldur’s Gate, Moonrise Towers, an Elder Brain, gods of death and goddesses of night all vying for the souls of a select few, Orin the Bhaalspawn, Gortash the Usurper, Netherese magic and mortal beings trying to become more than their birthright. His skull screamed from the visions and memories and the voice of the Dream Visitor, the one he now recognized as the false face of the Emperor, was the only saving grace he could find in the chaos.

“And now you too are awake. Find them. Find the others and free them as you have been freed.”

Why did this bullshit always happen to him?

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 tav #asks #baldurs gate astarion #Missing Tav AU

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whispering-depths · 4 months

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hello and welcome to my BG3 sideblog!

hello! my name is Mikayla, sometimes I go by Mik. my pronouns are she/they, I'm 28 yrs old and live in Pennsylvania, USA. my main blog is @queenofcarrotflowers-s. I made this sideblog when it became clear to me that this hyperfixation was not going to loosen its grip on me anytime soon. I'd love to connect with other BG3 blogs here, so please feel free to give a follow if you post about similar things!

I make digital art occasionally and have been attempting to start writing fanfiction again because I haven't been this inspired to be creative by a piece of media since my teenage Twilight obsession, lol. perhaps in the future I might post some of my writing here!

here are some things that you may see me posting/reblogging things about:

Favorite companions: Astarion (<3 obsessed), Gale, Karlach, Jaheira

Favorite NPCs: Dammon, Zevlor, Rolan, Raphael, Barcus Wroot, Gortash, Dame Aylin, Isobel, the tiefling kiddos

Favorite ships (non-exhaustive): Astarion/Durge (or Tav); Jaheira/Astarion; Gortash/Durge; Dame Aylin/Isobel

My Tavs (gonna link to their tags once I start posting things here):

Tiresia Allseer (she/her) - tiefling, urchin, wild magic sorcerer / way of the four elements monk - romancing Astarion

Artemisia (she/her) - tiefling, noble, Great Old One warlock / storm sorcerer (evil multiplayer playthrough) - romancing Lae'zel/Minthara

Orlan Oakenbough (they/them) - shield dwarf, soldier, Oath of the Ancients paladin - romancing Karlach

Juno (they/them) - drow, haunted one, way of shadows monk (Dark Urge)

Sorcha Agaric (she/they) - wood half-elf, circle of the spores druid - romancing Astarion/Halsin. Sorcha was my first player character and I played her as a Durge, but honestly I wish I'd have just made her a custom Tav bc I had a kinda cool backstory for her that didn't quite fit in with the Durge lore. but alas!

that's all I can think to add now, but don't be a stranger! feel free to drop into my inbox or give a follow, I hope to post much more soon :)

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #intro post #bg3 tav

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0fdevotion · 2 months

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-- 0 F D E V O T I O N

an independent, semi-selective multimuse blog for ocs based in baldur's gate 3. open to other fantasy fandoms. written by tori. 18+. other blog is @selunaris

pinterest boards.

amalthea stargrove. half-elf thief tav.

marcella sunweaver. human life cleric of lathander. (not tadpoled; companion)

iseris valynril. high elf. warlock. wild magic sorcerer tav.

nym. tiefling bard tav.

valaena. tiefling oath of devotion paladin tav.

vela. aasimar paladin of vengeance. sorcerer. daughter of tempus. (not tadpoled; companion)

cassiopeia 'cassia' ilkazyara. half-elf noble. bard. college of lore. (not tadpoled; companion)

rules are under the cut.

i. my name is tori. i'm 28, from the uk. i work full time + have other blogs besides this one so please be patient with me when it comes to replies.

ii. i will endeavour to tag triggers and spicy content [#nsft] but if i do miss anything, feel free to politely let me know. this is an 18+ blog, there will be 18+ content on it. anonymous will also be switched off if anyone decides to use it to be rude.

iii. i am a mutuals only blog. if i follow you, it is because i want to write with you. i typically don't do mains / exclusives.

iv. memes are the best way to break the ice and interact. i put all ic asks in text posts so you can easily reblog them and continue them as threads if you wish. if you wish to plot, feel free to dive into my dms or even to ask for my discord. just note that i do not rp over discord, only chat and plot ooc.

v. i am open to pre-establishing things so our first interactions are not always introductions, which get boring fast. i do also enjoy shipping and writing spicy content - those types of memes are open to everyone also and can be its own contained non-canon thing if you wish. actual established ships need discussion, however.

vi. i do try to interact with all my followers be it through engaging with headcanon posts, sending memes, etc. however, if i notice that the interaction is one-way and i'm the only one sending things etc, then i'll eventually just stop. rp is a two-way street, please don't rely on me to constantly initiate interactions. if i send things and notice that nothing gets replied to, again, i will stop sending things for a while.

vii. please specify a muse when interacting-- be it mine or your own if you have multiple. if it's a first interaction / you're unsure who to send to, that's fine, but please don't make a habit of not specifying a muse.

#oocpinrules

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thane-emblem · 3 months

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OC Name Meaning

Hi, I'm about two weeks late to this - thanks so much for the tag, @sillyliterature! :D

Rules: google and post the meaning of your OC'S name (if you made their name up or they go by a nickname, post an explanation of how it came to you)! bonus if you can find something for their last name too.

I'll do my BG3 Tavs (+ my Durge) and also some of my Shepards! <33

Laurel: My first, and main, Tav!! They're a Seldarine drow warlock with the Folk Hero background (I went in blind and didn't realize Wyll has the same class & background, oops). They've always tried really hard to forge relationships with all kinds of people to 'prove' that not all drow are evil and/or Lolth worshippers. Since their mom raised them to be a selfless hero who would improve public perception of drow like she does, they were named after the crown of leaves that would be given to heroes and victors in our world... which has been a heavy burden to bear. In meeting Lae'zel, they learned that it's completely possible to not care what others think of you or how you 'represent your race' - and it's taught them to be themself, instead of some ideal of a 'perfect' drow.

Estelle: My tiefling sorcerer that I made specifically to romance Astarion with! Estelle was born to a tiefling general and a marid (evil water devil). Their mother, the general, wanted a child who would have strong powers and an even stronger mind - that's how she chose Estelle's father. However, Estelle had a soft heart and no mind for strategy. Their parents abandoned them on the streets as a result. This made Estelle grow angry and cold, and they vowed to tap into their own strength, join the army, and get revenge on the parents who saw them as worthless. The Nautiloid got them before they ever made it off the streets though. I borrowed their name from a character I love in Arslan Senki - she disguises herself as a boy to join the army and fight for what she believes in, so I thought it was fitting.

Tharien: My sister told me she had a dream where I made a D&D character and called him Tharien, so I made a BG3 character with that name, hahaha. He's my little murder freak who's going to destroy the grove and romance Minthara!

Valiska: My first, and so far only, Durge. I really wanted to play with the contrast between the monstrous and the beautiful, so I chose a race that's seen as monstrous (half-orc) and gave her soft, beautiful hair. She's also a bard because she wants to add loveliness to the world, and hates the violence within her very much. 'Valiska' as a name kind of just came to me, I think it rolls off the tongue nicely and thought it suited her appearance somehow.

Seren: The githyanki cleric I made for my co-op pt with my bf! They're a cleric of Tyr with a strong moral code that leaves little room for subtlety or nuance. I named them after a character I like (again), this time from Magi: Princess Serendine. Magi's Serendine is brave and stubborn, and she learns that the country she believed in so strongly is actually rotten on the inside. I wanted my Seren to go through a similar arc, and they share a lot of Magi's Seren's traits, so I found the name very fitting.

Aria: My first Shepard!! I once again went in blind - imagine my surprise when I got to ME2 and met Aria T'Loak...

Aria Shepard is Earthborn, and was found on the steps of an orphanage in the middle of an opera performance at the nearby theater. Her caretakers heard the music and named her accordingly. She's always shut away the more poetic, soft side of herself in order to survive her harsh realities. That changes when she meets Thane, who draws out her most vulnerable self almost without trying. I'm still in the middle of writing a long (very long) fic about her and Thane that I'm hoping to maybe start publishing soon.

Ares: A renegade Shepard is something that can actually be so personal, as I learned when I made Ares. She's a tough career soldier who's wholly dedicated to the Alliance and its ideals, so ME2 has been a fun ride so far. I wanted her name to be equally tough and not too feminine, because she's nonbinary. When the idea hit me to name her after the god of war, I couldn't stop thinking about it until I sat down and completed her character creation.

Tobi: The Shepard I made so I could finally romance Tali! Tobi is a Colonist who has spent years hiding behind false identities. When the Batarians came and took his family, he ran until his legs gave out and his cousin Tobias had to carry him to safety. Tobias was then caught and killed. The incident shook Tobi up so badly that he kind of lost his sense of self, and instead took on Tobias' name and identity. He joined the Alliance under that false name, two years too young to be legally allowed to do so. Hackett figures out what happened eventually, but by that point, Tobi Shepard is an indispensible part of the military and is already of age. No one's called Tobi by his given name since his family died, and he prefers to keep it that way... though he's told Tali his story in private.

No-pressure tagging: @megatraven @aevallare @choccy-zefirka @jotarowan and anyone else who feels like it, feel free to say I tagged you!!

#thanks again for the tag <333 #my characters #my ocs #bg3 #mass effect #tag games

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djfatchip · 7 months

Note

1, 2 and 19 for the Act 1 asks? 😊

Thank you so much for asking @slothssassin 💖 Sorry i'm late to answering it.

Tell us about your Tav! Name, class and subclass, race, pronouns. Do you have a headcanon for where they're from? Their family? Are they a Dark Urge? Or did you choose an Origin Character? Was it an easy decision? Zacrya is my main Tav's name. She is a Tiefling Zariel. Charlatan as her background. A warlock/sorcerer. She, Her pronouns. No they are not a Durge. I didn't even know about this until after @erubadhriell told me about it when asking what was a "Durge" I kept seeing on my dash LOL xD Yes, it was an easy decision when I first got the game, my husband and I choose Tiefling cuz it looked "cool" and we wanted her to be fun and have Majin Boo's pink color hahahaha xD It was fun creating her xD

2. Was there something about the character creator that just couldn't capture your Character? Please tell us about their hair, facial hair, tattoos, piercings, disabilities, their trans or intersex body, or anything else you're comfortable sharing. No. I didn't go thinking of what my OC would look like. I was waiting for the game to be released. I didn't even play during EA. I didn't care, only cared to have the game full released. Saw no trailers, no gameplay, nothing after seeing it the first time. I did know who I wanted to romance though and hoped he would be. ;3 Just knew I was going to play it when it would be out. As me and my husband had fun creating her, she was perfect. One gripe I have with games is the lack of curly hair, and i'm talking about placated curly hair like mine. Larian added a few of the hairs that are curly, that I was so excited about it. Zacrya HAD to have curly hair and she does! Reminds me of my mom a lot with her hair up on her head!

LOOK AT HER HAIR! PERFECTION! 😘

19. Did your Character spend a night with a companion either the night of the party or earlier? Is it someone they have a continued interest in? Yes. Astarion. Both before, and at the party! And she absolutely wants something with Astarion. But please dont tell me. I haven't gotten far in the game and am looking forward to it! :D

Part of the BG3 Act 1 asks.

#DJFatChip Answers #OC 👤: Zacyra #OC 💬: Zacyra #Thank you for asking!#💖💖💖

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fiendpact · 6 months

Note

Hi!! I'm fact swapping ☺️

My main tav, Vin (trans masc, seldarine drow, rogue), learned his rogue skills on the streets of Menzoberranzan after becoming an orphan at a young age. He has the urchin background! And of course he loves the tiefling kids a lot because of this.

(Okay more than one fact here 😂)

the more facts the better!! it sounds like he’d get along well with my bestie’s tav! she’s also a (half-)drow urchin rogue with a fondness for the tiefling kids 🥰 the first time makaria runs into any of the tiefling kids it’s when wyll’s teaching umi to sword fight and she gives him a little advice, but the one she latches onto the most (at the moment) is arabella - partially because i’m biased for her myself but also bc when she comes back touched by magic in act 2 i think makaria as a warlock enjoys showing her the ropes so to speak, so she develops sort of older sister vibes with arabella 💖

#ty for sharing! <3 #bg3 #inatrice #asks #makaria #fact swap

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karlastarion · 4 months

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honour mode highlights so far:

Currently on my third attempt. RIP Vastra the Necromancer and Freya the Vengeance Paladin, long live Callista the Thieflock. (Helps that Callista is my Main Tav and I've played a mostly-complete and half-finished run with her already).

I've had a few near-total-wipes, including one where two got downed, two ran away, but then the enemies wouldn't properly kill the downed characters, so i had to go back and murder them so I could rez them properly.

I got the gnomes killed :( sorry, Barcus

I saved Sazza, finally!

Fucked up the temp hostility Minthara recruitment, but eh, that's fine, Callista romances Halsin, anyway

I'm not leaving companions at camp BUT I am using Shadowheart almost entirely as a healer and having her slap Sanctuary on herself to protect her. When someone needs to escape it's usually her. I should re-spec someone else to heal so I can swap her out sometimes, but eh, I'll deal with that later.

I know the game well enough now that battles are either a near-TPK or feel incredibly easy, which is a fun dichotomy.

My main party in my current run is Callista (currently a level 5 Fiend Warlock, I'm going to start multiclassing her into a Thief Rogue starting at 6), Karlach, Shadowheart, and Astarion. (I like to think Karlach and Shadowheart are hooking up in the background tbh)

Almost done with Act 1! All I have left is the optional boss in Grymforge, Auntie Ethel, and the Creche. Not sure what I'm going to tackle next, I'm about to do the Tiefling Party.

I led Minthara to the Grove because I saved Sazza and that just automatically happens, and then put the vial of runepowder and some oil barrels where Minthara always spawns in during that battle. I set them off in the first turn and she got YEETED, and then blew up the rest of the battlefield (& also Minthara because she didn't die lol). By all rights there should have been a forest fire.

Also killed Ragzlin just for fun even though I didn't have to. With a lot of smokepowder barrels. It was amazing.

#bog post #honour mode #callista (oc)#tav

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ellekhen · 5 months

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Hand, Hearth, and Home

Chapter 1 - A Warding Bond

Summary

“I… envy you,” Astarion admits. “In your short life, you already seem to have had your share of… experiences,” he smirks at him suggestively for a fleeting moment. “And much of it seems to have been… enjoyable. Willing.” He flourishes a hand. “You know what I mean.”

Church smiles wistfully. “I try my best, but it hasn’t all been perfect. I’ve had my share of… mistakes.” His mouth twists a little.

“I certainly hope I’m not one of them,” Astarion half-heartedly jokes.

Church looks at him earnestly.

“No,” he says softly. “You’re not.”

Astarion flounders for a moment at that.

When Church loves, he loves with the intensity of the sun. His childhood friends know this well. But, when it comes to his lovers, the warlock tends to wield a much lighter, cautious touch… that is, until he begins to fall hard for a certain vampire spawn. In their respective, wary calculations every encounter, Astarion and Church know they very well could be the death of each other. But as the trust between them grows, Church learns to let go of the past that holds him back from embracing the future — no matter how uncertain it may be here at the vampire spawn’s side.

Pairing(s): Astarion x Male Tav (Main); Past OC x Male Tav Rating: Explicit

@lumienyx tagged me in a “why/how did your Tav fall?” prompt, and whoops, it turned into a fic!

Excerpt below:

The rogue and warlock are searching through one of the infirmaries when the tiefling lets out a small, intrigued gasp.

“Oh!” Church murmurs. “It’s the other half of that pair of rings. Remember? We found one on that justiciar’s skeleton.” He pulls out the ring in question from his pouch, comparing the two side by side before passing them both over to Astarion. The rogue examines them as the warlock gingerly retrieves the journal from the withered skeleton’s grasp.

As he begins to read it, his mouth twists. “Oh…” he repeats, albeit softer and more troubled.

Astarion peers over his shoulder. “What is it?”

“The husband’s journal,” Church murmurs. “It tells… a much different story.” He sighs, handing it over to the rogue as well. “Poor bastard.”

Astarion skims through it. Poor bastard indeed — blissfully blinded by love when all the justiciar was doing was using him as a shield. He has to admire that it was clever of the justiciar to deceive the fool into such an arrangement. Although, by the sound of the sorry sod’s journal entries, if his dark bride had simply asked, he may very well have entered the arrangement willingly — warding bond be damned.

At first Astarion scoffs — he simply doesn’t understand people who would thanklessly sacrifice themselves just that.

…but then he thinks — just for a moment.

Does he understand? Just a little?

The more he dwells upon it, the rings’ magic as described between the two texts is certainly fascinating as a concept…

“What’s on your mind?” Church asks him, crouching down to tug a disintegrating blanket over the skeleton, for some reason.

“Well, you know,” Astarion hesitates even as he offers. Why he even offers is a mystery. “Remember… just this morning? Those… things by the river?”

The warlock’s hand flies reflexively up to his neck. “Meazels,” he grimaces.

“…meazels,” Astarion nods, gesturing emphatically. “Anyways. Since you have, hm, a tendency to take hits fairly heavily… why don’t we… you know…” he makes a gesture that would have been lewd under any other circumstances, if not for his sincere expression. “That way, even when you’re far off, I can still protect you? Take a couple hits?”

Astarion never fathomed he would ever offer such a thing to anyone. He had offered to take punishment on behalf of a sibling only once, and Godey and Cazador both made sure that he regretted it more than anything else in the moment. Violet never bothered to return the favor anyways.

But Church…

…misty-stepped right in front of the wretched creature, blasting it away before its claws could reach Astarion. Damn it, the rogue scolded himself, he had gotten sloppy. Then again, none of them expected to be ambushed by such vicious creatures, especially ones that would go straight after their casters to —

He heard a strangled gasp. A meazel leapt out from the shadows, his wire whipping over Church’s neck. Astarion only had a split-second for their eyes to connect before both the struggling meazel and tiefling went hurtling over the edge of the building…

In the present, the elf gives the tiefling a meaningful look. If Astarion has to haul the warlock’s lifeless body from the ground one more time…

“No.” Church says firmly, waving him away.

“Oh, well,” Astarion says, somewhat relieved if a little miffed by how quickly the tiefling rejected the idea. “At least consider the practicality…”

“I am not going to let you be hurt because of my own carelessness,” Church snaps. “You read that journal. It’s a curse, not a blessing.”

“There’s no need for that tone,” Astarion retorts, taken aback by its harshness. “Don’t pretend you wouldn’t do the same for me.”

Church’s mouth twists and he sighs.

“…fine. You’re right — I would. But I don’t want to use these at all. I think we’ve been doing a pretty good job at covering each other’s backs lately, don’t you?” He smiles wanly at his lover. “We’ve been doing this… right, I think.”

Astarion regards him with amusement as he pockets the rings. “Doing this ‘right?’ I suppose if one of us has any idea of what that even means, it’s you.”

Church’s smile is gentle as he shrugs at him. “I’m hardly an expert, Astarion. I just do the same for you as I would for any friend, just with… you know, more…”

Astarion steps close to him, smirking as he tips the tiefling’s chin up in a kiss. Church hums softly, stumbling into him in his enthusiasm.

…it’s followed by a dry crunch.

The warlock startles, gingerly stepping off of the poor bastard in his bedroll. “Shit, sorry,” he mutters unnecessarily.

Astarion watches him, fondly.

“To be honest, I admire how easy it is for you to define what is ‘right’ in an arrangement such as ours. It’s…” he wheedles, “…admittedly not my area of expertise.”

“I…” Church frowns. “We’ve talked about this. I just don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do. It’s not that hard.”

“You’re sweet,” Astarion smirks. “But it’s not that straightforward for all of us.” He sighs, reluctantly stepping away from the warmth of him. “Although with you — perplexing as you often are — sometimes it is that simple. It’s… refreshing.”

Church glances away a little self-consciously, a little worriedly as the elf continues to study him.

Church smiles wistfully. “I try my best, but it hasn’t all been perfect. I’ve had my share of… mistakes.” His mouth twists a little.

“I certainly hope I’m not one of them,” Astarion half-heartedly jokes.

Church looks at him earnestly.

“No,” he says softly. “You’re not.”

Astarion flounders for a moment at that.

“Well,” he says with a flustered laugh. “That at least is a relief.” He leers conspiratorially at the tiefling. “Why don’t we brighten this place up? Tell me about the good ones.”

Church frowns at him. “Honestly, I’m not sure how I feel about—?”

“—Oh, come on!” Astarion waves him away. “It’s fine. I’m bored. Humor me.”

Church studies him for a moment longer, before chuckling nervously. “Well… I snuck into a castle one time to visit a duke’s son…”

“I bet Wyll wishes that were him,” Astarion remarks, and the tiefling blushes purple beneath his dusky skin.

“Oh shush,” he laughs. “I had to run out of there for my life, clad only in a chaperon.”

He thinks for a moment.

“There was a half-elf bard in Baldur’s Gate — D’vana, if you’ve ever heard of her during your… nights out? Green skin, white poof of hair?”

Astarion shrugs. He’s not much in the habit of paying attention to the entertainment of his hunting grounds.

“Anyways, I used to visit her whenever I stopped by the city,” Church continues fondly. “We’d…”

“…make music together?” Astarion finishes for him suggestively. The tiefling huffs a laugh.

“We tried once or twice, but as you saw with Alfira, I’m hopeless with a lute,” he says with a sheepish grin. “No sense of rhythm… oh, wait.” He flushes. “That’s… not what you meant, was it?”

“Were you one of those adventurers who had a lover in every city?” Astarion asks in amusement.

“Lovers?” Church laughs. “No, nothing of the sort. Just… moments. Flights of fancy. Good friends,” he concedes, “but nothing more.”

“Well, those all sound like incredibly delicious moments with those friends of yours,” Astarion says lightly.

He waffles for a bit. “So are we… is this the first time you’ve done… something… like… this?” He waves his hand. “Whatever the hells this is.”

Something unreadable flashes across Church’s face as he glances away for a moment. The levity drains from his face even as he smiles softly back at the elf. “Do you mean something recurring? Exclusive?”

“I suppose,” Astarion drawls.

Church looks down, fiddling with the strap to his pouch.

“There were… a few,” he says softly, but then he blinks and straightens up, shrugging. “But nothing ever ended well.”

“Hm, well that doesn’t exactly bode well for us,” Astarion quips. The last word rings in the stale air for a moment.

“Us.” What a concept.

“I…” Church laughs nervously. “I don’t want to think like that,” he murmurs. He looks around to make sure they’re alone before reaching and grasping hold of Astarion’s hand, covering it with his other. He looks up into the elf’s eyes. “If anything, the past has just taught me to treasure each moment I can get with you,” he murmurs. “I… want to make each one last in my mind. I want to make sure…”

He trails off, and laughs a little, nervously.

“We should keep moving, shouldn’t we?” he says. “This… this is hardly the place to let our guard down.”

Astarion catches him before he can move away. The elf peers into the tiefling’s starry, yellow eyes, which struggle to hold his gaze as he stares back at him. Church’s lip quivers for just a moment, and Astarion pulls him into a soft, lingering kiss.

“Don’t tell me I’m the optimist in this arrangement,” he japes quietly. “I… like this, Church. No matter how it ends.”