Faerûn's Angel

"How does this feel?"

"Fine. Now stop moving."

"Right, sorry."

…..

"It's been so long since I've done this," Karlach breathed a hushed giggle into Tav's ear. "I almost forget how."

"It's actually quite simple if you'd stop moving and shut up."

There was no true venom in Tav's words as he pressed his back into the tiefling's chest. He was used to the cold and dark. Spending his youth Underdark lended itself to that. But the cold brought on by the Shadow Curse was unnatural. Seizing. It was the kind of cold that seeped into the bones and weighed someone down as if with lead. Tav didn't get cold; but under the Shadow Curse, he was cold. He never thought he'd see the day where he'd be grateful for the appropriately named Last Light Inn.

That was until he realized that they did not have enough beds for everyone to get their own.

If it wasn't for Isobel's shield over the inn, he would've slaughtered everyone that he could get his hands on, including her. He's killed people for less. And honestly? The thought of it made the dark voices in his head purr with delight. Maybe if he coated himself in the Harpers' and tieflings' hot blood, he wouldn't be so cold.

The gentle hum of Karlach's cooled down engine brought him out of his happy, murderous thoughts. He exhaled through his nose. Fine, he grumbled to himself. He'd keep his hands off his scimitar and settle for the free heat he was getting from his companion. There was a tiny part of him that liked to see her happy, gods know why, and he didn't want to cut the moment short. It fascinated him that after spending ten years fighting in the Hells and finally being granted the ability to touch again, the first thing this tank of a woman wants is a cuddle.

"Don't be like that," Karlach huffed again. She moved herself closer when he backed into her. Tav bit back a content sigh when the heat hit his back. "You said it was alright to share the bed. Having second thoughts, soldier?"

Tav clicked his tongue. "No," he muttered. He took a breath before continuing, as her warmth comfortably rolled up his back. "But I would like to sleep."

"I know. I'm just so happy," Karlach's breath hitched as tears pricked her eyes. Gods above, Tav thought. Don't let her start crying. "Ten years is a long time to go without being able to touch someone. I never thought I'd be able to again. And now that I can? I'm buzzing. Things are finally starting to look up for me."

Tav pursed his lips. Dammon told them that her engine fix was temporary. That eventually, it'd burn out and take her with it if she didn't go back to Avernus. So what was one moment of happiness if it didn't last? Either Karlach would go back to the very hell she fought to escape from, or die. None of this mattered.

These words replayed in his mind, waiting for the opportunity to be free, but that moment didn't come. He swallowed them down and instead said, "…Glad you got what you wanted."

Ugh. That felt weird. Maybe the tadpole was starting to affect him.

"Heh, I'm just getting started," Karlach grinned. "The world's probably not ready for unleashed Karlach but it's getting it anyway. Shadowheart said she'd braid my hair next time we're at camp, and Wyll and I are going to wrestle at some point. He actually thinks he's got a leg up on me, and-"

Tav's eyes drooped closed while Karlach spoke. He was too tired to tell her to shut up again, and the likelihood of her actually doing it was slim to none anyway. He breathed heavier, lulled by the heat and the oddly soft pillow that cradled his face. Her voice faded into the background. He was just drifting off to sleep when—

"…Hey soldier?"

Gods dammit.

Tav groaned and begrudgingly opened his eyes. "What?"

He felt her shift behind him. The heat radiating off her got a little bit hotter.

"Could I hold you?"

Tav's brows furrowed. He propped himself up on one elbow and ungracefully turned to face her. "Are you serious?"

If this was a joke, she was gonna be the first person he killed, whether he had his scimitar or not. Surprisingly, there was some nervousness mixed in with her genuine smile.

"Yeah," she nodded. "I'll be honest, Tav. I love hugs. And cuddling. You probably wouldn't guess it by looking at me, but you'd never find someone desperate for a cuddle more than me. Pathetic, I know. But the engine wants what it wants."

Tav stared at her without a word. He was still waiting for her to say that she was joking so that he could wrap his hands around her throat. The dark urge was yearning for that. Karlach continued, smiling a bit wider.

"We're already close together anyway," she gestured to the small, almost nonexistent sliver of space between them. "And if I make you uncomfortable at all, I'll roll onto the floor and sleep there instead. So…can I?"

The tips of Karlach's flames turning blue told him that no, she wasn't joking. Far from it actually.

Now it was his turn to falter.

Sharing a bed was already something that typically wasn't in the cards for him. This wasn't from a lack of candidates; similar to Astarion, Tav had a high opinion of himself and could bed just about anyone. Karlach wasn't asking to get into his pants though. What she was asking for was innocent and sweet. And that is was gave him pause.

He felt the unfamiliar sensation of his pulse quickening. A butterfly in his stomach. He continued to stare, to remain silent, still looking for any indication that maybe she was in fact joking.

Nothing. Nothing but that same eager, almost puppy-like expression and hopeful smile.

Finally, Tav gave a slow nod. He was still feeling a bit cold anyways. Why not take advantage of the additional warmth?

"Alright," he agreed in a low whisper. He turned his back to her again and laid his head back down on the pillow. "Though try not to get too excited."

Karlach laughed at that. "Ooo, listen to you. 'I'm a dark and scary ranger who thinks a woman's brain will turn to mush the moment he gets a little close'." She even dropped her voice so that it was a lower baritone like Tav's. Then, she wrapped her big arms around him, holding onto him like a teddy bear. "Well too bad. I may enjoy a cuddle, but I am not—"

"Brain?"

Tav interrupted and peeked back at Karlach with a questioning expression. The tiefling mirrored that look. Tav smirked, "Ah, I forgot you had one of those."

Karlach laughed again, this time louder, while she absently prodded into Tav's side. "Fuck you."

Tav was already chuckling but the prodding had him flinching away, snickering louder. She paused, he paused, and the new discovery hung in the air. Then she grinned.

"Don't tell me you're ticklish, soldier."

She was still holding onto him, still facing his back, and her claws experimentally walked along his torso. Tav squirmed and grabbed at her large hands. All of a sudden, he wasn't feeling so tired. Before his companions, he wouldn't have had a clue what tickling was. It wasn't a violent act and didn't enter the equation when he took people's lives. As for who tickled who first, he couldn't remember. All he remembered was that he viewed it as an accessible weakness. Tav didn't have any of those. Or so he thought.

What a difference a tenday made.

"I'm noh-hot—," he lied. As much as he wrestled with her hands, her gentle scritching ended up on his lowermost ribs, where he jolted and chuckled louder. He tried to stifle his chuckling through sheer willpower, pursed lips, and gritted teeth. None of those helped him."Cut that ohout, Karlach!"

"But you said we could cuddle," she argued. He was strong, Karlach had to admit it, but him being tired was currently working in her favor. His movements were unpolished and sloppy and were much easier to counter. As carefully as she could, she pulled him flush against her body and draped one of her legs over his, pinning him. "Don't go, Tav. I just wanna cuddle!"

"Thihis isn't cuddling—" The butterflies in his stomach hit him like a carriage as he covered his mouth with one of his hands. His other hand fruitlessly tugged at her wrist. The realization of oh shit, this tickles fell on top of him and he didn't really know how to handle it. The chuckles were coming faster than he could stop them, so he settled for stifling them. He growled in between chuckles, "I-I'm gonna k-kihihill youhu—"

Karlach giggled. "Promises, promises . How do you expect me to be afraid when our grumpy leader's got these ticklish ribs?" She accentuated her teasing by giving a good squeeze to the side of his rib cage. Tav spluttered and writhed against her. "Makes me wonder if you've got any other tickle spots.."

Instead of answering her, Tav focused what little energy he still had into battling with her hands. He was gaining some ground and Karlach was quick to scribble her claws across his stomach. Tav bucked in her hold and bit his lip to trap the incoming laugh. Karlach brightened and gently drilled her thumbs into the sides of his stomach. This spot was much easier to get to with his thin camp shirt.

"Oh?" Karlach hummed, grinning. "Looks like I've got something…~"

Tav curled in on himself, as much as he could while pinned against her, and shook with the effort of keeping his laughter from breaking free. Half of his smile was buried in his pillow. Any threats he planned on making were also trapped. Karlach's tail thumped behind her as she worked through his defenses with every ticklish prod.

"Taaav," she crooned. "Are you sure that this doesn't tickle?"

Tav shook his head like the stubborn ranger he was. He turned his head so it was completely hidden in the pillow. He was still shaking with restrained laughter, and she was still tickling, poking at especially sensitive spots near his navel. She snickered.

"You're a tough one to crack, huh?" Karlach made him jump by squeezing his sides only to return to his stomach. "That's our Tav. The strong and silent type. Our very own lone wolf. If you weren't so grouchy, I may have had the hots for you. There's definitely something about you."

The dam was about to break. Tav's legs drummed against the bed. He seized her hands yet again, having an arguably good grip on them, but she wasn't letting go. A wobbly grin etched its way across his face. The quiet, but steadier laughter was easier to come by, though muffled by the pillow. Karlach teased him by swiping from his stomach, sides, and lower ribs like an enthusiastic kitten.

"Heh, you're definitely got some muscle to you, that's for sure," She continued yapping, her tickles finding their way to skin thanks to all of his squirming. "That's hot—"

Tav couldn't take it anymore. His head snapped up from the pillow, and what was supposed to be a growl was a series of choked laughter.

"Would youhuhu shuhut up!"

There was no reeling the laughter back in now. It wasn't a loud and chaotic sound. Instead, it was quieter and deeper, but still just as frantic. It fit him, Karlach noted, and there was something adorable in that.

"Nope, not a chance," she returned. She tickled him in earnest now, poking into those spots around the navel again that got him writhing. "You think you're so tough, huh? What's so funny? I thought you weren't ticklish."

"Sh-Shuht—" He tried to repeat himself but couldn't, bucking as one claw circled and scritched around his navel. He curled in on himself even more, but that somehow made it worse. 'OAhahaaha! Youhuhu're dehehead!"

"Nuh-uh! I've got a new lease on life," she teased. She nuzzled her head into the crook of his neck from behind, switching from quick scratching to kneading and pinching into random spots along his tummy. "Plenty of time to tickle my friends."

"Grrr-gohohonna cut that shohohohrt!" Tav's laughter picked up as he gripped her hands tighter. The ticklish sensations were settling into him and as much as he bucked in her hold, she wasn't letting go. There was another unfamiliar sensation of his cheeks flushing.

"Ooo I'm sooo scared," Karlach pretended to be terrified as she wrestled him onto his back with a decent amount of effort. Now he was pinned between her and the mattress. Her frame alone was enough to keep his arms and legs down. Tav grunted, and the playful grin still donning her face made the metaphorical butterflies in his stomach go wild. "Gonna get you now, soldier."

Tav took the opportunity to catch his breath during the lull, chest rising and falling with each breathe he took. "Karlach," he began, still trying to reign his chuckles in. "Let me up, and I promise not to—"

"Say you're ticklish then," she grinned. She held her hands just above his torso and wiggled her fingers. "Say it and I'll let you up."

Tav's cheeks flushed some more. "Why would I admit to something that you can clearly seeeehehehehe!" He jolted when she suddenly reached underneath his arms and buried wiggling fingers into his armpits. He brought his arms down over her hands and drowned in giggles that he'd surely deny later. Karlach cooed above him.

"Wrong answer, soldier," she snickered. "Say ittt~."

She pulled her hands free and kneaded her knuckles down his rib cage. She lingered in between the bones as his giggling deepened.

"Kahahaharlach!" Tav twisted his torso from one side to the other, belting out a louder laugh whenever she pinched a rib or dug in just a little more. He heard her giggle right before she honed back in on his stomach. She didn't tickle right away, just poking at the now exposed skin and marveling in the fact that she wasn't burning him. Tav spluttered again, his giggling jumping to short bursts of frantic laughter. "D-Dohohohn't you dahahahare!"

"I dare," she smiled. "But I'll give you five seconds to change your mind. Five,"

She pinched one side of his tummy, snorting when he squirmed in the opposite direction. The smile on his face was wide enough to metaphorically split his face in half.

"Leheheht mehehe uhuhp!"

"Four," She brought both of her thumbs down and kneaded both sides of his stomach. The bed creaked as he began bucking, laughing harder.

"KAhahhahaha!"

"Three. Better hurry Tav," She was smiling almost as much as he was while she kept up the ticklish onslaught. "You're running out of time."

In truth, Karlach wasn't really good at waiting. Or count downs. So she definitely got ahead of herself when she started raking her claws up and down his stomach in a steady rhythm, only letting up when she blew raspberries just above his navel. Tav's deep cackling threatened to wake up any of their sleeping neighbors.

……

By the time Karlach stopped tickling him, he was exhausted. He was tangled back up in her arms while coming down from his laughter. Karlach nestled her head back onto his shoulder, and the ranger mumbled sleepily.

"Prick," he again said without any true venom. Karlach snickered.

"Takes one to know one, soldier," she returned, finally yawning. She paused for a moment before adding, "You don't hate me though, right?"

Phoebe Lumos- 'Lee Headcanons

Background

It starts with just trying to get her to smile. Phoebe usually dons this pensive, frightened expression and moves as if she’s walking on egg shells, with the only exceptions being when she is preparing food, providing medical aid, or crocheting. 

So unbeknownst to her, a bet is made amongst Astarion, Shadowheart, Gale, and Karlach as to who can get the dour doctor to smile. Just because they were on the road to ruin, Astarion argued, doesn’t mean that they had to be miserable about it. Why not have a little fun?

100 gold is on the line, doubled if they can get her to laugh. 

Astarion has an infinite array of flirtatious remarks and compliments in his repertoire, but none of them provoke the reaction he’s looking for from her. Shadowheart’s dry, sarcastic humor goes nowhere and accidentally offends her. And Phoebe, having the biggest crush on Karlach, avoids her at every opportunity, giving the impression that she’s afraid of the lovable barbarian. 

That leaves Gale, archwizard and the former chosen of Mystra, to work his magic towards what seems like an impossible feat. 

The two of them were making soup for the party, and all he said was that they made a superb (soup-erb) team. Phoebe snorted before she could catch herself and burst out giggling.

It only happened one time (not including the other pun Gale said later- “they’ll be stewing over this for days) and Gale never told the others what he did or said to make her laugh. He chalked it up to magic that only a wizard of his caliber is able to do. 

Poor Phoebe could not get it together even after dinner was over, so Gale made the innocent suggestion to tickle her to release those remaining giggles. 

Phoebe was initially hesitant; not because she didn’t trust him, but because she expended all of her energy into keeping herself under control so that she didn’t hurt anyone. If she didn’t trust anyone, it was herself. Gale didn’t push her to make a decision, but assured her that he wasn’t worried about her hurting him should she agree. 

That trust, plus the sound proofing of the tent, made Phoebe comfortable enough to try.

As a ‘lee

If Phoebe was ever shy before, she is even shyer as a ‘lee.

On a scale of 1-10, she’d be a 12. But at first, she doesn't realize how ticklish she really is.

When Gale initially tickled her, careful hands tracing over her tunic but not fully touching, she was so jumpy. She covered her face with her hands and quietly snickered into her palms. 

Phoebe is 100% the kind of lee who will start giggling without her ‘ler needing to do much of anything. Maybe it’s the anticipation of it. Maybe it’s her nerves going haywire and needing an escape. 

Her face flushes deep red and she quietly pleads “wahahit, wait” to her ‘ler before they even do anything. 

The more she laughs, the wheezier and breathless it sounds. It’s an infectious laugh but one that she is highly embarrassed about. If the ‘ler does not move her hands, they stay covering her face and muffling most of the sound of her laughter. 

It’s discovered that her most ticklish spots are her underarms, back, and her stomach. Later on, it’s also discovered that she cannot handle massages because they tickle too much. 

There’s fight, flight, and freeze. Phoebe does the last one; while keeping her face hidden, she’ll curl inwards on herself, wheezing either “oh gohohods” or “plehease it tihihickles”. She won’t really push her ler’s hands away or try to escape but she will kind of windmill her legs if she’s really overcome with laughter. 

When she’s more comfortable with the party, and it’s known how ticklish she is, Phoebe has to test her negotiation skills by trying to deter incoming tickles by offering to bake something. It’s a good idea to name something ridiculous so she has to scramble to pretend she knows before the inevitable tickles descend on her. 

Another thing Phoebe will do when negotiations don’t work  is back herself into a corner or a space with only one exit, holding her hands up in front of her and nervously giggling/pleading for her ‘ler to leave her alone. 

Muse Kouris (OC) Tickle Headcanons

As a ler

Muse is naturally flirty and affectionate. If her friends and/or lover give her clearance, she loves to touch.

Hugs, gentle touches on the arm, nose boops, trailing kisses on a lover’s face or body…it’s usually not too difficult for her to find out if someone is ticklish. 

When she does find out, she blinks up at the person with an easy, but mischievous smile. “Aw, and just when I thought you couldn’t be any cuter…”

Height has never been an obstacle for her. In fact, it can work out for her benefit. Her diminutive stature means she can sometimes quite literally dance around her lee if they try to grab her, avoiding swinging arms and poking wherever she can reach. 

She’s also not opposed to climbing onto her lee, winding her legs around their waist, and going to town. 

Her favorite places to tickle are anywhere along the torso. She usually does these fluttering tickles (think butterfly wings) or gentle, playful squeezes. 

She smiles and laughs along with her lee, and definitely teases them. If they stumble while she’s tickling them, she’ll say something like, “Sweetheart I know you’ve fallen for me, but this is taking it a bit far, no?”

Muse is gentle, but highly mischievous. Depending on how ticklish her ‘lee is, they’ll either be left in giggly tears or just blushy and flustered. She likes to remind them that she’s sung for them before, so surely they can hit some high notes for her, too. 

She doesn’t really pin her lee down. If the mood really struck her, though, she would use her druidic powers to summon some vines to keep flailing hands and ankles still.  

Anyone accepting affection from her should be careful if she has an inkling that they’re ticklish. Sometimes her hands have a mind of their own, and there’s no telling what they’d do~.

As a lee

Muse is averagely ticklish. On a scale of 1-10, she’d be right in the middle as a 5.

That doesn’t mean that she doesn’t have any spots that couldn’t get her laughing. These spots are her ears, hips, and waist. 

The determining factor in whether or not Muse will turn the tables on her ‘ler (which she would at the first opportunity) is to match her energy. Her ‘ler would need to act first and move with confidence to put the odds in their favor. 

Picking her up to tickle her in a sure fire way to short circuit and fluster her. In these moments, she’s more focused on putting her feet back on the ground than she is stopping her ‘ler. 

She will playfully threaten her ‘ler between incessant giggle fits. These threats become more creative if her ‘ler is teasing her (cause that’s her job, dammit!). 

She’d never admit it, but she enjoys the playful attention that comes with tickling. The banter and the energy that comes from it are so much fun to her. So if her ‘ler’s goal is to get her to apologize for prank pulled, for example, they’d have an easier time convincing the sun not to rise. 

Muse’s real laugh is made up of these squealing giggles. These giggles help showcase her deep set dimples and is absolutely noT cute, thank you. 

Even if she’s giggling her head off, she’ll still talk big to her ‘ler. Below are some examples:

“Th-Thahat’s the behest you’ve gohohot?!”

“I could find better uses for your hands if you’re trying to--no! Nohoho not whahat I meahant!”

“If youhuhu w-wanted to top mehehe, you could’ve just ahhh---!”

A random headcanon I also have is that Gale once scribbled notes on her back with a quill when she was hellbent on teasing him during his study session, and gods did it tickle.  Gale didn’t get any studying done that night, and Muse can’t remember a time where she’d laughed so much. 

Name: Phoebe Lumos. 

Nickname: Firefly,  Doc, Bee. 

Age: 28.

Gender: Female (she/her)

Race: Zariel Tiefling.

Alignment: Lawful Good when she’s in control. When her Urge takes the lead, she can be chaotic evil. 

Class: Cleric [God- Illmater]

Background: Medic. 

Family: None that she’s aware of. (I’d like to make another tav of mine, Isri Skydance, a relative of hers.)

Romance(s): Karlach Cliffgate [partnered]. But, I also ship her heavily with Gale.

Best friend(s): Gale, Wyll, Shadowheart, Alfira, Zevlor.

Background: Ever since her fall from the nautiloid, Phoebe’s memories have been in fragments. It was like trying to put a puzzle together; sometimes, it was easy to find the matching piece. But most times, mismatched pieces would end up getting paired over and over, until the person gave up on it. 

Phoebe remembers a dark, dank alleyway. Sludge and garbage littered the streets, and the smell was rancid enough to even chase a rat away. It was a hub of criminals, homeless, and the decrepit, one of the many places in Baldur’s Gate that the sun did not touch. Phoebe doesn’t remember what color her robes were; it was whatever the temple had available to use, and it was too big for her. The sludge and garbage smeared the bottom of her robe as she ventured further into the darkness, searching for something. A cough. A groan. Anything. 

When she rounded a corner, there was a sharp inhale and ragged coughing. Her golden eyes caught the faint glimmer of a blade.

“C-Come to fin’ish the job, ‘ave ya?” A deep voice growled. She slowly turned toward the sound and saw a crumpled up tiefling laying against the wall.

The tiefling had his arm draped over his torso. His shirt was stained red with blood, some dried, some fresh. He was in obvious pain. And yet, he held up his knife defiantly. “Come on then. I’ll drag ya to hell with me.”

Phoebe raised her hands in surrender. The robe’s large sleeves pooled around her elbows. “No, saer. You have mistaken me. I am not here to hurt you. I have come to aid you.”

He laughed a mocking laugh, coughing. A little blood pooled at the corner of his lip. “Help? Too late for that, lass. If ya ain’t here to kill me, then piss off and let me die in peace.”

The cleric dropped to her knees. She reached around her neck to show him her necklace bearing Illmater’s sigil. “I am a cleric of Illmater. My god charges me with providing aid. Please, let me help you. At the very least, I can ease the pain.”

The tiefling grunted. He raised his head. He searched her eyes for a moment, then looked down. His shoulders sank. “...You shouldn’t be here..”

“As I said, it was my god that brought me to you.” Phoebe fished in her pocket for her healing kit. It had medicine, salves, surgical needles, and stitches. She glanced at the wound he was covering, opting for a larger needle. “May I?”

His eyes locked onto what she had in her hand. There was a beat, a flicker of uncertainty, before he groaned. “Fine. Do what you have to..”

The rest was a red blur. Screams. The image of that injured tiefling faded into blackness. All she had to remember him by was his blood staining her hands and robe. It felt warm and familiar, like the embrace of an old friend. 

Something was wrong, Illmater preserve her. If the tadpole didn’t kill her first, Phoebe would paint the Sword Coast red. She’d have to keep her newfound companions at a distance and pray for their safety, and hers. 

Fun Facts:

Besides being a doctor, she’s also a baker and pairs well with Gale when it comes to preparing food for the party. Patching people up and giving them food are both love languages for her. 

Phoebe earned the nickname ‘firefly’ for two reasons- One is that she’d often provide medical aid to those who’ve been ‘discarded’ by society, like beggars or criminals. She was a light in the dark for them and when someone called her firefly, it stuck. The other reason is because her bright, fiery orange eyes stand out in the dark, much like a firefly’s light would. 

She is very, VERY shy. She usually doesn’t speak above a whisper and rarely makes eye contact with anyone. Phoebe would rather pass off the leadership title to literally anyone else, but if Illmater charged her to lead, she’ll do it…in fear, but she’ll do it.

When she’s anxious, it helps to have something in her hands to distract her. If that can’t be baking, she enjoys crocheting. She was so anxious one night that she once finished half of a blanket in one sitting…and then fell asleep on it come morning. 

Phoebe is a hopeless romantic and LOVES fairytales. In other life, she’d have loved to be a princess. Heartfelt poetry, a serenade, and a private stroll through lush gardens make her heart sing. 

For all of her shyness, Phoebe is very protective of those she cares about. She’ll give the last piece of food or the last healing potion to them. She isn’t protective in a loud way, but if it comes to a fight, she’ll subtly move in front to take the first hit. 

Phoebe is short for a tiefling and has very long, thick orange hair. She keeps it up when she’s on the move or working, but she enjoys having it brushed and braided. 

Phoebe doesn’t sleep well at night and usually paces around camp or finds things to keep her hands busy and not wrapped around her companions’ throats. The first time she gets any decent sleep is when Karlach holds her in a steady grip after her engine is cooled down. 

Phoebe gives off the impression that she’d like being cuddled but, in truth, it’s the other way around. Being able to hold someone makes her think that she’s in control and not her Urge. 

She’s afraid of dogs, but loves cats. She also prefers tea to coffee and loves cookies.