#Myshka

[pocket-dragon]

This is a Thembo to MILF Karlach truther account now everyone I'm sorry

[cloverthebarbearian]

YOU CAN PET MYSHKA???????????????? IM

[barbwillbrb]

George Taylor said Rolan would be a cat person in one of his streams, so now I headcannon that he adopts Myshka.

Quick morning doodle based on this ref: https://pin.it/8T4Qg8mJi

[theirishhalfling]

I rarely draw cats and I rarely draw fanart... but sometimes exceptions must be made for the best of NPCS. It's me, my son.

[nimthirielrinon]

There is precisely ONE NPC who truly has my heart in BG3, and it is none other than Myshka, my sweet son. So I immortalised him in my art.

Look at that darling, sweet face. I love him.

[pondering-gales-left-orb]

I FOUND MY SON

[bulundu]

I'm not interested in getting Baldur's Gate 3 until there's an update or a mod to take Myshka with you.

Someone let me know when that happens and I will get the game that same week.

[bunnidarling]

A seduction by starlight.

Thank you for another gorgeous painting @dafna-winchester! You make my boy so beautiful.

[rottenczar]

shoe freak

[a-rogue-tiddy-bot]

BG3's most perfect and important side quest.

[realkaijuhavecurves]

I love Myshka the cat so much

[wizardfrog69]

Name

This is fyodor x gn!reader, have fun

Cw: mentions of blood, death, using someone to ones advantage.

There was a familiar knock on the door, ‘come in’ a soft voice of a Russian-speaking man echoed in the room in a response to the knock. In came a person holding a tray with a mug holding a soup known as borscht, next to it was a plate with a dish by the name of croquette on it. ‘You should take breaks more often, dear.’ they spoke with a hint of concern. ‘I need to finish this first, myshka.’ the Russian replied, not bothered to address the worry of their partner. ‘Here I made you something to eat... you should eat more darling before you turn into nothing but skin and bones, then who am I going to love?’ “Myshka” responded to the unfaithful remark of the Russian man known as “dear” or “darling." They started walking towards the man, stepping over cables carefully to not drop the tray onto the floor. After placing the tray with the meal on the table “myshka” was asked to leave, to leave the Russian man alone, just like they did every day. They missed the hands which would wrap around their waist, despite the cold nature they always felt warm, they missed the softness of the man's hair between their fingers, smooth, soft, it always smelt nice, like vanilla. They missed the feeling of someone hugging them in their sleep, the late walks at night, and the coffee and tea they drank while sitting together in front of the fire during those cold Russian winters. It has been a couple of weeks living in the news lands of Japan, the atmosphere was severely different than the one back home, better in a way, it was warmer and yet it felt colder.

Myshka put on a coat and left, leaving to explore the beautiful streets of Yokoyama. Walking, visiting different shops, cafes, gardens, and anything which looked remotely interesting. After a long day of walking, thinking about their beloved "darling", they turn a corner, thinking there wouldn't be anything situated in an alleyway, they stumble upon a bar, and so they walk in. ‘hi! Excuse me do you speak English?’ Myshka asked in their broken Japanese, they never spoke in Japanese before now, not having many interactions with the outside world so they could spend at least a second with their beloved “Darling”. There was no response from the bartender about Myshka’s inquiry, nevertheless, another voice spoke. ‘He doesn't speak English.’ A Japanese man with brunette hair and hazel eyes to complement his hair, wearing what looked like a beige trench coat, mahogany brown pants, and a vest with a dress shirt underneath. The man looked up to Myshka and in less than a second he was in front of them, their hands in his, ‘would you like to die with me?’ beseeched the man. ‘Can I at least get a drink first?’ he looked a bit disappointed but then his earlier expression came back. ‘Order whatever you want!’ myshka looked away from the man to glance at the menu which was, unfortunately, for them written in Japanese. ‘What is there to order if I don't even know how to read in Japanese?’ ‘What do you usually get?’ ‘Just a beer’ the man later said something in Japanese which they could not understand. A beer was placed in front of them ‘how much do I pay?’ they asked the man once again. ‘Don’t worry about the bill’ and with a nod, they turned towards the bar and started drinking the beer. After sitting in comfortable silents for a while the man began to speak, ‘where are you from?’ Myshka was told by “darling” to never reveal their identity to anyone. Fortunately, Myshka knew more Slavic languages ‘Poland, Lublin.’ and so the conversation continued.

Looking back on the conversation, they forgot about their troubles and why they left in the first place. Their new so-called identity was this: a Pole coming from the streets of Lublin to visit Japan for a while, they were 24 years old and wanted to travel to a couple of countries before steeling down and getting a job. Now they found themselves Infront of the building hand opening the door. The inside was warmer than the outside by a seemingly three or five degrees Celsius. They took off their coat and waltzed into a dining area only to find the Russian man standing there like he was looking for something lost. Myshka ran up to him and hugged him tightly. ‘Where were you, I was looking for you, myshka.’ myshka felt happy to be, now, in the man’s arms, receiving the hug. Myshka hadn't received his affectionate in such a long time that they feared they had lost the feeling, but it came back, just as they remembered it. ‘I went for a walk.’ the man broke the hug and led the two of them to a coach, ‘Tell me about your travels in Yokoyama.’ his voice was warm, the opposite of what it was in the morning. ‘I found this cute cafe and the coffee is delightful...’ and so they kept talking about their day, leaving out the new friend they made. “darling” Listened with a slight smile on his face seemingly enjoying their rant about their day, in truth the Russian man did not care for them, what they did or drank, he just cared for one thing and that was controlling people to his advantage, his puppets.

‘Did you finish work?’ myshka asked, hope in their voice. ‘No, but I took your advice and wanted to spend my break with you.’ A smile appeared on myshka’s face, they were happy to hear he took a break and wanted to spend it with them. ‘I am tired so can we spend your break in bed?’ myshka offered. The Russian man nodded in response, he did feel tried, he always did but there was work to be done, and this was a part of the job, spending time with his puppet to keep their free will chained to his commands, it was his job, he was working, falling asleep while having a comfortable warm thing in his arms was all a part of the job, nothing more, nothing less, falling asleep was necessary for the job, he wasn't taking a break, he is working.

The sunlight hit the Russian man’s face, waking him up in the process, he opened his eyes and saw myshka, they were awake tracing shapes softly onto his chest. ‘Good morning, dear!’ myshka said enthusiastically. ‘Good morning.’ a small kiss was placed on Myshka's forehead as a greeting gesture, it felt nice, he liked this work and wished to stay like that for a while but there were more pressing matters, an organization found out he was in town, and they have a strong hatred for him. They were quite a strong organisation which discouraged him in sending his puppet out into the streets of Yokohama again, especially after the photographs of them, some of the photographs were pictures of them from their times in Russia, there were photographs of the two them walking through the snow covered park the first time they met, there were photographs of their family grave with their name added on, some photographs were resent while others were from five years ago or from their childhood years, a cassette tape was included with the hundred or so photographs, a transcript of the cassette tape accompanied it, the transcript was the Russian translation of what was said on the tape; the first twenty minutes of the tape was a familiar voice crying, the voice belonged to myshka, and then words were spoken in a unfamiliar language to him, ‘how far did you travel?’ a male voice spoke in what seemed to be Spanish, ‘twenty four hours, fifty nine minutes and twenty eight seconds’ myshka’s voice started to speak in the same language, ‘do you know why you’re here?’ ‘Because I killed your brother’ ‘yes but that’s not all you did, isn’t it?’ ‘I killed your brother, father, mother, grandmother, cousin, and pet goldfish’ ‘and why did you run' the next hour was silent, and the conversation was repeated in forty different languages with an hour break between each conversation, with a different male voice each language.

‘How many languages do you know myshka?’ “darling” asked at the table with a cup of coffee in his hand, ‘I think five, Russian, Polish, Czech, English, and Latin. Oh! And I'm learning Japanese ’ ‘Do you know any Spanish?’ ‘No. Why do you ask?’ ‘No reason, are you doing anything later on?’ ‘Maybe I’ll go and do some grocery shopping, would you like anything specific for dinner?’ ‘no.’ the natural silents filled the room again, it was as if all sound went deaf. The Russian man stood up and left for the office which crept into his mind making it his new home. A couple of hours went by when movement was last heard in the building, myshka had left the building to roam the Yokohama streets as they had previously said. The sound of a door opening, and plastic bags being placed on a table was proof to him that myshka had come back. The footsteps came closer to his door but instead of the familiar knock, there was the sound of paper sliding on the floor. He turned in his chair to find an envelope, opening it and reading the letter, he knew this wasn’t his puppet but someone else’s. It was their writing, but it wasn't them, the letter read: I am being held against my will at *****, please help me.

He was seemingly unfazed as always but there was a strange feeling in his breast as if someone was trying to rip his heart out. He left the room in a hurry and walked in a calm manner towards the and left.

He found himself at the address given, it was an alleyway but there seemed to be no one there. ‘You came and they told me you didn't love me and only saw me as your puppet.’ myshka’s weak voice sounded from the very end of the valley, hearing his puppet’s voice made the pain in his breast worse, yet he walked to the weak form in front of him. His puppet was sitting against the back wall, looking up to the Russian man, blood covering their physique. ‘What happened myshka?’ he said subconsciously kneeling to his puppet and took their hand in his, ‘say you love me’ ‘who'd done it.’ ‘Prove them wrong, say you love me.’ ‘I need to take you to a hospital.’ ‘I've seen enough death to know if someone going to survive... god I feel so tried’ the puppet spoke, weaker than before. He moved closer to their weak form and held their hand tightly, ‘you know I love you myshka.’ his eyes started to feel strange, ‘I love you too Fyodor...’ the spark in their eyes was gone. Their breath drew short before stopping, their life had stopped. Hearing his name being called with the last breath his puppet took felt... unfamiliar, suddenly his cheeks felt wet and there was a salty taste in his mouth. He stared at the body in his arms, he felt the pain in his breast become greater with every second which'd passed, his body started shaking, his warmth had turned cold.

This was kind of rushed, sorry if it's bad, I'm not used to writing shit like this, have a good day/night!

[twistedapple]

In regard to my previous post and one of the many changes brought by Patch 3 (I stand by the opinion that BOTH brown and black hair on Raphael), I'd like to point these out as well:

Now we only need to be able to adopt Myshka and maybe Grub to have a full, lovely pet family 🥹

Otoh, we've been tragically robbed of His Majesty. He now has hair, because Larian preferred keeping Steelclaw hairless. But His Majesty was the most gloriously haughty ballsack kitty and I wouldn't be surprised if someone rolls in with a mod to reverse that tragic choice.

[tempustantrum]

I need y'all to know that I sunk about 71 hours into this game just to get to this cat, and that I honestly bought the game JUST to talk to this cat who thinks you are his mother.

You could have told me that the entire plot of this game was to find this cat and I would have believed you, I'd have been like "Yeah, that tracks, game of the year, my son will defeat the Absolute,"

Anyways, at 5 in the morning, 71 hours into Baldur's Gate 3, I found Myshka, and this is my reaction to finding him.