#THE SHAR THEMED ONE

[slverblood]

Hey also know what I've been obsessed with since yesterday? That the Dark Justiciar armor you find all over the Grymforge + Gauntlet is apparently near-identical to Selûnite armor in Reithwin prior to Ketheric's conversion.

[thats-a-lot-of-cortisol]

✨ someone ✨ broke their oath the other night

[invinciblerodent]

i'm starting to realize that "your [insert authority figure here] not wating us to be together adds another, potentially even stronger layer to my love (it is spite)" might not be a completely healthy approach to relationships, but i'm too deep in now

i'm like five characters in, no turning back at this point

[unluckiestmember]

Baldur's Gate 3 X Innocent! Reader

Characters: Astarion Ancunin, Shadowheart, Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep, Lae'zel, Wyll Ravengard, Karlach and Halsin

Tags: friends to lovers, acquittances to lovers, in denial, overprotective, fluff, indirect kisses, Gale being Gale, fake love (until it's not), established relationship and innocence.

Warning: SFW. Light suggestive themes.

A/N: Yes, your eyes do not deceive you. No, I'm still in a chokehold-

Astarion Ancunin

“Well aren’t you just the cutest thing ever? I could just eat you right up, darling~.”

When he first met you, Astarion knew you were an easy target. A nice meal he could exploit, especially if you’re a virgin, and a great pawn for the road ahead. He would deliver sweet nothings to you in hopes of sleeping in your bed and drinking from the pure blood that coursed through your veins. But as time continued, as you showed how sweet you were, the pale elf found himself genuinely falling for you.

He wanted to protect you from the world around both of you and bite anyone who tried to hurt you. He’d even hesitate on feeding from you out of fear he’d hurt you or expose himself to your pained gasps. You were his precious jewel he couldn’t afford to be taken from him or tainted in any way. With everyone else, he’s still a flirtatious and snarky vampire spawn. But around you, he will always be a sweet man who wants to make sure you’re okay. His princess/prince… That being said, don’t expect him to stop flirting with you. He adores when you get flustered.

Shadowheart

“Stand behind me! I don’t want you to get hurt! Just do as I say, okay?!”

At first Shadowheart thought you weren’t real. That there was no way in the nine hells that there was someone as pure as you. She genuinely thought your personality was a charade. So she watched you carefully, waiting for you to show your true colors in the form of berating someone or betraying one of the campers. But you never did. You always stayed true to yourself.

When she realized that you were probably the most modest person in your motley crew, the Shar Worshipper became attracted to you. She spent more time with you and suddenly felt like she needed to take care of you along your adventure together. Similar to Astarion, Shadowheart tries to be ever so gentle with you, never using pain in bed and out of bed unless you approve of her actions when she asks for permission. It’s evident to everyone she cares deeply for you and wouldn’t mind spending her life with you.

Gale Dekarios

“It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen the embodiment of happiness. Who knew I would find that in you?”

You had Gale’s heart as soon as you said hi to him. It didn’t take long for this man to turn into putty around you nor to become friends with you. And he fell in love when you always gave him magical objects without hesitation. Asking him if he’s alright and stroking his head after he eats his weave? He was swooned. The closer you two became, the more the wizard would share his life with you like an open book and offer any kind of lesson in magic to you.

It didn’t take long for him to admit he had romantic feelings for you, leading to you to become a couple. At camp, he is a gentleman, always asking if you need anything in between kisses to your cheek and becoming bashful with you when you bless his ears with your giggles. Outside of camp, he’s focused on you, making sure no one lays a finger or spell on that cute head of yours. You bring the best out of Gale and make him the happiest man in all of the realms.

Lae’zel

“G’lyck. If you’re hurt, then go to the ghustil… Hurry up or I’ll drag you to her myself.”

You were a liability to Lae’zel. Always getting hurt? Never killing your enemies? Checking up on everyone over yourself? She wanted nothing more than to throw you to the wolves so you wouldn’t ruin the group’s odds of survival. She hated you with a flaming passion. She hated how you always asked if she was okay. How you always treated her wounds after a battle and dare to kiss her injuries better. How you cowered behind her during combat.. And especially how you made her heart flutter when you slept across from her by the campfire, watching your cute face in a state of peace…

If it was up to her, she’d kick you out of the camp for what you’ve done to her. She swears it. But for now? She guesses she’ll keep you around for a little longer. Besides, she knows without her you’d die out there. You need her and she needs you.

Wyll Ravengard

“Don’t fret now, I won’t let them lay a finger on you, not when the Blade of Frontiers is right by your side.”

Wyll always wanted to have a romance like fairy tales. Save a fair princess or prince from their troubles like a knight in shining armor while slaying dragons. To meet someone who was the sweetest thing alive and experience real happiness with them by his side. So when he met you, you can bet he felt like he won the jackpot! He found your bashful nature and careless personality to be a breath of fresh air, especially when he was punished by Mizora.

At first you were a great friend, but when you took care of him, polished his horns and always checked if he was alright after fights, true love sprung between you two. It didn’t take long for him to confess his feelings to you and take your hand as your boyfriend. From that day forward, he’s been your savior on and off the battlefield when he wasn’t your sweet lover that showered you in compliments and kisses. You are positive that with Wyll you are bound to have a happily ever after.

Karlach

“Aww, you’re so adorable I just wanna squish your cheeks and hug you forever!... I can?! Well, come here, you!”

It was love at first sight between you and Karlach. After you splashed her with water and made sure she was okay, the barbarian’s heart was in your hands. She was so used to meeting backstabbers, manipulators and liars that she wasn’t sure there were any good people left. But you proved her wrong and she was so happy you did. Because of you, she made it her sole mission to get infernal iron so she could touch you.

When she couldn’t, she would share indirect kisses with you using rocks and even gift you her teddy bear Clive when you couldn’t hold her. And when she finally was able to touch you, she held you as if her life depended on it. There isn’t a moment where you two are not touching in and out of camp. You make her feel alive again in more ways than one and to her you are her soulmate. She loves you so much and will do anything to make sure you know that.

Halsin

“If you were a part of nature’s divine design, then you are a pure ray of sunshine given by the Oak Father.”

Halsin immediately gave you his trust and respect when you saved him without a reason to. It didn’t help that he also found you to be adorable with how nervous you got around him and how you stuttered a bit. With how you were, the druid quickly grew an interest in you, wanting to be beside you and feel your skin against his. He loved how you were so considerate when he wild shaped, petting his head and playing with him effortlessly.

In the wilderness, you were something like his mate, always protected by foes and checked for injuries. If there were any, he would bandage them as quickly as he could and carry you the rest of the way back to camp. When everything was settled, he’d immediately cuddle you as himself or as a bear. You were perfect in every way to him and for that, he would be your sole protector no matter what.

If you got any requests for Baldur's Gate 3, send them my way!

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay hydrated and have a good day! <3

[kirain]

Sigh....Galemancers really love to move the goal post when it comes to the grooming accusations huh? You found out Gale was a fully grown MAN when Mystra slept with him so now you have to say, "Well then he was emotionally groomed and the power dynamic is too vast." Mystra is a neutral good goddess because she's Midnight, who was a neutral good human. She hates that her magic has to be used for good and evil. Ao makes her share it evenly but she'd rather not. She would never do anything to hurt Gale. The writers of the game even confirmed she's not a groomer. People like you also downplay the point of Gale's entire story arc, which is he should've listened to Mystra! The whole point of his personal quest is he needs to learn to humble himself and listen to his goddess! He has no one to blame for his downfall but himself.

There's no "post" to move, anon. The game and lore give us all the context we need. Grooming doesn't only apply to children, and people have proven right and left that Mystra is terrible at relationships. She's petty and abusive when she isn't obeyed by her partners, and that's been the case with all of her iterations. Even the narrator describes her as a "jealous goddess" when you visit her shrine. Plus, your information is wrong on many accounts; the most pertinent being that the Mystra of BG3/5E isn't technically Midnight. Cyric and Shar killed her, reducing her to her godly essence (lore-wise that means she died). The current Mystra is an amalgamation of the vestiges of Mystryl, Mystra, and Midnight, as told in the novel Elminster Enraged.

Now, this is about to get complicated, as it always does with Mystra, so from here on out I'll be referring to Mystra #1 as Mystryl, Mystra #2 as Mystra #2, Mystra #3 as Midnight, and Mystra #4 as 5E Mystra. Alright, let's get started.

Elminster had to reform the fallen goddess by giving her fragments of all three iterations of Mystra. Since all three iterations are combined, our current 5E Mystra embodies the good, the bad, the beautiful, and the ugly. There's even a conversation with The Simbul (one of the Seven Sisters and a Chosen of Mystra) where the newly reformed 5E Mystra speaks of Elminster as her "longest lover". This puzzles The Simbul because that was something of the old Mystra (Mystra #2), not Midnight. The new 5E Mystra replies that she has become a combination of the memories of Mystryl, Mystra #2, and Midnight. This is all in chapter 25-30 of Elminster Enraged. I know it's confusing, but in short: 5E Mystra is not Midnight anymore, and the leading mind is clearly that of Mystra #2, hence her extremely poor judgement—a recurring theme with her character.

Mystryl and Mystra #2 were originally lawful neutral. The alignment changed to neutral good when Midnight took up the mantle, because Midnight herself was a neutral good person. But now it seems 5E Mystra is true neutral, because you are right, anon; Ao won't allow her to do whatever she wants. Midnight tried and was forbidden. 5E Mystra absolutely does not have the same level of humanity or kindness as Midnight, and that may be because Mystryl had no human consciousness and Mystra #2 was a mess.

Regardless of her alignment, she must embody her domain by Ao's decree, which means she needs to spread magic across all Realmspace. Since she has to maintain the balance, she approaches good, neutral, and evil mages with potential opportunities. This isn't a criticism (that's just how godhood works), but rather proof that Mystra is absolutely capable of good and bad. I don't want to hear any more of this "she's a precious little bean and Gale's victim" nonsense. Even if she wants to be, she's not. As Kikitakite said in their post, she's done some fucked up things.

Whether or not the writers intended to make Mystra a groomer, that's exactly what they did. Sometimes writers don't realise they've written an abusive character until they're criticised. Take writer of The Notebook, Nicholas Sparks, for example. He didn't realise he'd written Noah to be an abusive piece of shit until Ryan Gosling pointed it out himself. Gosling has gone on record many times to say he hates Noah, and experts have labeled him an unrealistic and emotionally abusive/manipulative character. The same can be said for Stephenie Meyer, who wrote some of the most celebrated toxic relationships in recent media—with a dash of borderline pedophilia on the side. Therapists have weighed in extensively to tell people that Bella and Edward's relationship isn't healthy and shouldn't be emulated in real life. Indeed, perhaps the best thing to come out of the entire franchise is Robert Pattinson's hatred of Edward and the series as a whole. Jacob's actor, Taylor Lautner, even argued with Meyer's on set because of how weird the "imprinting" segment was and he didn't want to come off as predatory. Meyer argued it was "romantic". 😕

Even if you don't agree Gale was groomed, Mystra is flagrantly responsible for his insecurities and she never should've put her hands on him. The power dynamic is too vast, and even god Gale (conceited as he is) realises it by the end. He only stays in a relationship with Tav if they allow him to ascend them alongside him as his equal. He recognises that anything else would be unhealthy and unacceptable. Also, I researched high and low regarding your claim, but none of the devs have dispelled the idea that Mystra is a groomer. In fact, the most I could find was one dev simply saying, "To Gale it was love, but he didn't know any better." If anything, that only confirms he was confused and didn't know what to do. Their "relationship" was a stunningly horrible idea from the start and that's not on Gale, it's on the literal cosmic being who initiated it.

Moreover, Gale was very likely 17 when Mystra revealed herself to him. This perfectly fits into the 5E Forgotten Realms timeline. If so, no, he absolutely wasn't a grown man. He was a teenager. Mystra may not have slept with him until he was in his 20's, but that still makes it a disgusting teacher-turned-lover situation. Gale even tells us he was "young" when she took him into her fold, and he was only eight years old when Elminster started their lessons. Remember, Elminster is Mystra's biggest apologist. He would've taught Gale to revere her, which means there was almost never a point in his life when Mystra wasn't the main focus. You can tell by the way he speaks about her in Act 1. He's in awe, he's excited, he's proud she chose him. That does something to a child. Something irreversible. If anything, Elminster is complicit in what happened. I've said this before, but he couldn't even be bothered to visit Gale himself. He sent a simulacrum.

As for your accusation that I'm "downplaying" Gale's story arc—you're damn right I am, because the writers made me! Most D&D players I know aren't very happy with how Mystra is portrayed in the game, and that's probably because even they know she isn't presented in a very flattering light. If you really think about it, it's obvious what the writers were going for, but they failed. For example, you said Gale should've listened to Mystra, right? Well, in Act 1 he admits his ambition was his undoing, blames himself for his downfall, and by Act 2 he's literally ready to off himself for her. In fact, he's the only one who sees her ultimatum as justified. Every other companion says she's being cruel and unreasonable. If Gale actually blows himself up at the end of Act 2, the results are catastrophic. The brain is destroyed, yes, but the tadpoles, free of the Absolute's control, complete their transformation and infect/enslave the entire Sword Coast. Anon. She. Is. Stupid. Even the Narrator is like, "You wanna ... you wanna try that again?"

The entirety of Act 2 is Gale learning he shouldn't listen to Mystra. And then she has the audacity to lecture him in Act 3? If he'd listened, it would've been the end of everything. Maybe if Mystra was as infallible as she pretends to be, she would've put her three brains together and came up with a better, less vindictive plan. Because make no mistake, she wanted Gale to blow up in Act 2, which is ridiculous. I know this is an uncomfortable topic for some people, but gods aren't perfect, especially in fiction. They're flawed. They're selfish. Some of them are straight up assholes. The real irony of Gale's arc isn't that he has no one to blame but himself, it's that Mystra should blame herself. At no point does she even consider if she's being unreasonable or unfair. There's no self reflection whatsoever. And the writers expect me to think Gale's full of himself? I wonder where he got it.

Probably from his teacher. ✋🎤

[whiskeyskin]

Praise You

Premise: Thaniel and Oliver are reunited and Halsin's feeling a bit aimless, a head massage is just what Silvanus ordered. Not that kind.. well, maybe that kind too 😏🍆💦

• Halsin x gn!tav • M rating • Religious themes •

Cleric Gn!tav, religious experience but it's sexy?, Silvanus take the wheel, m!masturbation, hair braiding, massages, taking care of Halsin, kissing, confessions, revelations, deliciously wet Halsin, horny, connection, divine threesome if you squint?

5.4k words

Gods bless @naariel for these beautiful shots of this delicious man 😚👌✨ Get The Full Picture

(Just imagine Tav is the bedroll 😏)

_____________________________

•°•°•

It was a particularly jovial time in camp this evening, despite the grim surroundings, however they seemed a little less bleak now that Thaniel and Oliver were together again.

From inside the protection of the Moondome, they sat together with many bottles of wine, as so generously provided by the Last Light's cellar.

They still had Ketheric Thorm to deal with but that was tomorrow's problem. Tonight, they drank.

Halsin had been carrying the weight of the Shadowcurse for over a century, now he'd finally been able to lessen it's hold and rescue his childhood friend from a terrible fate. There was almost a glow about him as he sat nursing his only glass.

He looked a little lost at times, almost in mild shock. As though he couldn't quite believe what had happened.

Tav smiled warmly, they wondered what was in store for Halsin Silverbough.

They'd been brushing out Shadowheart's hair for 45 minutes to redo her hair ready for tomorrow's foray into Shar's Gauntlet, down to find the Nightsong.

Finally, the brush glided through her long raven locks with ease.

"There, that's half the battle won already. Ketheric will be a walk in the park after dealing with your tenday's long hair." Tav jested, brushing her hair up into a ponytail.

"Oh, shut up you," she threw with failed derision, "I would have done it myself, but you offered." She shrugged, taking a sip of wine.

"Oh, yes. Forlornly calling out that you wanted to gussy yourself for Shar, only.. alas! You can't remember how to do your hair. The pinnacle of passive aggressive whinging." Astarion threw across the fire, nursing his own goblet.

"Well, you're the expert." Shadowheart countered, illiciting a jeering reaction from the group.

"Ooh, she's got you there Fangs!" Karlach nudged his shoulder with her elbow, a little too forcefully. Astarion rubbed yelped and rubbed his shoulder.

"What do you mean? When I'm unhappy, I come right out and say it. I don't waste time beating around the bush."

"Correct, but your continued and incessant complaints regarding self-cleanliness in this wilderness are tiresome." Lae'zel sneered.

"Not to play devil's advocate, Lae'zel but I have to agree with Astarion on this one. Trying to maintain any kind of a bathing routine whilst braving these perilous lands is a task most impossible to undertake." Gale retorted, holding his hands up in gesture.

"Well, now that Thaniel and Oliver are restored, these lands will flourish once more when nature takes it's course. Oakfather willing." Halsin did his customary gesture.

"I don't really mind, and you've been a very good model sitting here without whining." Tav stated, tying off her hair and pulling it tight but comfortable, "it reminds me of my childhood, we'd spend hours brushing and braiding each other's hair. It was practice for when we'd be braiding those in ceremony."

"Ah yes, the braids of your people are intricate indeed." Wyll nodded, "I've met a few with the most complicated of braidwork, it's very impressive."

"Well, I was never good enough to braid those. It's more about the smaller victories that I specialise in. Smaller and more personal to the individual." They explained, twisting her hair to make it more manageable to thread through her hair adornment.

"Smaller victories?" Lae'zel narrowed her eyes with a curious tilt.

Shadowheart handed Tav her silver adornment, "Yes, they can be anything really. Anything that the person overcame; hardships, trials, successes, even failures."

"Your people celebrate failure? Bah. Mediocrity must be cleansed-"

"-Cleansed, yes we know what the Gith think about all of that. Despite this apparently fatal flaw, my people are great warriors, Lae'zel." Tav interceded, threading Shadowheart's hair through the chains to secure the hair piece.

"I know this. You have shown yourself distinguished in battle many times." Lae'zel insisted, frowning in the way she did.

"And yet, I'm not your 'typical' warrior. I'm valued because of the strengths I do have, not shunned for the ones I don't. My people embrace failure without shame, or repulsion because it takes more from a person to admit their mistakes, than to admit their success."

A hush fell over the group as Tav's words sank in. A few uncomfortable shuffles echoed around the group.

"I feel like there was more I could do to help the Tiefling refugees. I should have done more." Wyll said, breaking the silence.

"That's not a failure, that's a regret. Regrets are useless, Wyll. They keep us from seeing the good. You taught those children enough to survive that attack. You told Umi it's about giving him enough time to escape and they did. So, I'd count that as a success." Tav replied, smiling. Wyll took a stuttered inhale, surprised by their perspective.

"I failed to stop the Shadowcurse, it shouldn't have come to this." Halsin admitted, a pained expression on his face.

"You failed to kill Ketheric Thorm but so did many others that day. But you, my friend," Tav leaned to rest a firm hand on his muscular shoulder, "are the only reason it's ended now."

"If it had not been for you-"

"-Then you would have found a way. Your failure, is now your triumph, Halsin. This pain that has clouded you for a century, is finally done." Tav jolted him hard to emphasise their point, then scanned his hair, "I need to give you a new braid."

His head jerked to look up, hazel green eyes wide, "I did not think-"

"You need two; one for your failing, one for your victory. We are defined by both and must wear them proudly. If you'll permit me?" Tav paused, seeking consent.

They allowed the revelation to seep inward. The tenants of their people were often the cause of deep realisations regarding the self. Even when those people were as wise as Halsin.

"You would honour me." His warm, kind eyes brimmed with the threat of tears but he stoically swallowed them down.

~~~

The evening passed in reflective revelry, the gang admitted many deep seated secrets that had shamed them. It bonded them further, in a way that was Tadpole-free. By the end, Tav would need to braid all of their friends.

Lae'zel touched the fresh re-plaiting Tav had done for her, adding another to symbolise her small achievement of befriending Istiki. She seemed pleased.

Halsin had peeled away from the fire a short while ago but hadn't returned. Tav hoped that they hadn't caused him hurt by what they had said.

After such a long time of carrying this burden, taking a step back and looking at the situation in it's entirety after being so intrinsically entwined with it.. blinded within it.. would take time.

But they'd meant every word. He was an incredible man. And they hoped he saw that in himself.

Eventually, everyone resigned to their bedrolls. A goodnight hug from Karlach, Wyll, Gale and surprisingly Shadowheart, a pat on the shoulder from Astarion, and the usual nod from Lae'zel, imparted with more warmth than before.

"You can feed on me again tonight, let me just go check on where Halsin's got to." Tav gently patted Astarion's arm.

"I appreciate that. Unless I want to eat cow, there's nothing around here."

"Cow can be delicious but not in the way you experience taste, I'll bet."

"Ugh, no. Livestock taste - ugh - well, you can imagine." He curled his lip in disgust.

Tav laughed, "If they taste as bad as they smell, I think I can."

~~~

After very little searching, Tav found Halsin by the lakeside, just inside Isobel's protection. There seemed to be a large, silver basin in front of him.

He was naked from the waist up, revealing his impossibly muscled physique. Tav gasped. They'd obviously seen his barely contained body in his Druidic armour, but laid bare in front of them like this, their mouth had suddenly run dry, yet salivated hungrily simultaneously.

His hair looked longer, almost freer, as he took the basin over his head with ease and poured it over his hair.

Again, Tav gasped and a pooling of lust hit low in their belly watching this mountain of an Elf drench himself in water.

Halsin placed the basin back on the rock and pinched the water out of his eyes. He shook with an exhale, squeezing out the excess water from his hair and caught Tav's gaze.

Immediately feeling foolish, Tav jerked themselves out of their stupor and waved nonchalantly, making their way down to him. Halsin returned with a half wave as he wiped his face down with his hand.

"I didn't see you there, didn't realise anyone else was awake." He smiled brightly, towering half naked and beautiful.

Tav returned the smile, "I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"You were concerned for me?" He sounded surprised.

"Of course, I understand that what I said might have been quite a lot to digest before one sleeps. I wanted to see that you were well, and rested."

Halsin's brows pulsed together but his expression remained warm, "It has been quite some time since someone checked to make sure I was rested but I promise you, I'm perfectly fine."

"I didn't mean to offend, or speak out of turn. The Shadowcurse has superceded everything else in your life and having that finally lifted from your burdens-"

Halsin held up a large paw to silence them, "Hush now, you did not speak out of turn. In fact, you spoke more truth than I've heard in a long time. A redeeming quality of yours.." he trailed off, with an intense stare.

"I'm glad to not offend, because I don't regret what I said. What you've achieved today will change the course of this land forever, for good this time."

"I must admit, it is a strange feeling to see hope sprout anew in these lands, after so much darkness." He mused, looking to the spot he'd brought Thaniel through from the Shadowfell.

Tav thought on the fierce battle for the portal, the desperate need to keep Halsin safe. The sheer relief that flooded them when they saw him return with Thaniel unconscious in his strong arms.

They stole a glance at him while he looked out towards the water. He truly was beautiful.

The strong line of his scarred jaw, the definition of his muscles, the uncharacteristic growth of chest hair dark against his sun-kissed skin. The lingering droplets of water chasing each other down the contours of his torso and into the damp waistband of his camp clothes.

Tav swallowed. Halsin was obviously a stunningly attractive man, but the energy and presence that exuded from his very soul was intoxicating; His strength, his compassion, his bravery and his boundless capacity for goodness and hope-

He'd taken out his braids.

Tav blinked twice, then glanced down to the empty silver basin and now what they saw to be soaps, glass bottles and tubs.

"What are you doing down here, Halsin?" They asked, plainly.

He blinked, returning his gaze to them, "Well, I had hoped to commemorate this occasion, as you suggested. That you would honour me with a new braid. However, my cleanliness has not been the top priority these last days and my hair is seldom touched by anyone but me. It required some attending to." He chose his words delicately. It made Tav laugh.

"Would you like some help?"

"I think I have imposed enough on your good will for one day. Although, I must admit, I do not know anything about hair care." He admitted with a chuckle.

"Well, I see you come fully stocked." They motioned to the jars, picking them up to read the labels.

"I spoke to Isobel about blessing some water so that I may bathe, one of the Harpers kindly gave me some of their own poltices and potions to use."

Tav opened a container to gauge the consistency, Halsin also reaching for a bottle. They took a sniff of the thick, white poltice and found it to be coconut.

"Ah, this is to soften and strengthen hair. Plus it smells divine." They offered Halsin to smell the balm, to which he let out a hum of agreement.

"This is an oil. To help with hair?" He said shrugging his shoulders and unstoppering it, the scent of lavender and rosemary strong on the air.

Tav nodded in agreement, "That's for the scalp as well as the hair. A scalp massage is unlike anything else for relaxation."

"Is that so?" Halsin asked with a playful lilt.

"It is so. Would you like a scalp massage? I am very proficient in them." Tav boasted, taking the oil bottle Halsin offered.

"Another of your many talents." He admired in a low register. Another intense gaze burned them in place.

"Well, in order for me to braid you, your hair must be in a good condition. If you'll allow me?" They gestured for him to sit.

"Now? Here?" He asked.

"Where else could be better than at the site of your achievement?" Tav posited, gesturing to the jutting rock.

Halsin turned down his lips and nodded in agreement, "I can't argue with that."

They both settled on the rocks, Halsin sat lower down in front of Tav's crossed legs. Tav rolled his camp shirt to place against the rock to afford Halsin more comfort, to which he rewarded them with another warm smile.

Once they were both in position, Tav pushed their sleeves up, "Tilt your head back for me." Halsin dutifully acquiesced, and they poured a good helping of the rosemary and lavender oil, assuring that it didn't drip.

"That smells wonderful." Halsin said through a smile.

"That it does," Tav agreed, flexing their fingers against Halsin's scalp in small circles, "It should feel even better." They returned with a smirk.

"Ooh, that it does." He mimicked, after a few moments of groans.

Tav proceeded with the scalp massage, fingers practised and strong, offering healing and relaxation.

They saw the tension in his shoulders ripple away and he sank lower into the feeling, "You can rest your head against my legs if you'd like." They offered. A normal suggestion in these circumstances but this time it felt far more loaded.

They'd given hundreds of these kinds of treatments but this time felt different, important.. charged.

Wordlessly, Halsin sank back into them. The back of his neck resting on their crossed calves, as they continued their practice. His handsome face was contented.. at peace, as he gently lay on them.

Tav watched the small changes in his expression as their fingers worked their magic. His brows would flex, his closed eyelids would stretch as though his eyes were rolling back in his head.

Tav employed the subtle use of their nails to awaken the scalp for regeneration, raking them across his head. Halsin's jaw tensed and he let out a low rumble that sounded not quite human but it made their stomach tumble over uncomfortably.

"Apologies," Halsin's voice came out slightly breathlessly, "This is feeling quite good, and my grip over the animal within can be tenuous at times. I hope it doesn't frighten you." He opened his eyes to look up at them, his incomparable green hazel eyes shadowed with lashes and uncertainty.

"You could never frighten me, Halsin. You make me feel safe, protected. Never afraid." Tav spoke in a hushed tone and moved their thumbs to massage the worry lines that appeared there, "You are immense and powerful and you deserve to feel good."

"Mm, you make me feel good. Very good." Halsin licked his bottom lip and took a shaky breath.

Tav paused to add more oil to their hands, rubbing them together and gliding their full width to smooth his hair down. Then tossing his hair from side to side to work their way to the underside to massage the back of his neck.

Halsin groaned at the force of their fingers, "Tav, that feels quite extraordinary. You have a real talent for this." He let out a breathy chuckle.

"I'm not even started yet, Bear man." They teased, "You'll be practically unconscious by the time I'm finished with you." The tinge of unintentional sexual energy peppered their words, as they pushed the muscles of his neck under their hands.

"Bear man?" He shot out a laugh, "We shall both be exhausted after this, I'll wager."

"I've been doing this for many years, I could do this for hours." They braced into their strength and worked the heel of their palms hard, down into the extremely tight musculature of his shoulders.

Halsin let out a shuddering yelp, then a rumble paired with a gasp, "That.. was unfair."

"You're wound tighter than a Patrirar's arse, Halsin. You need to relax."

He sat up a little, pushing against the force.

"Oh, and how would you suggest I do that, when you're burying your fingers into my shoulders? Gods." He strained through gritted teeth.

"Besides a massage? A bath, masturbation, meditation, booze? There are lots of fun ways to unwind." Tav smirked, thumbs working over his wound muscles.

"All sound suggestions, apart from masturbation. That would be a tad inappropriate, don't you agree?" His tone was light and dark at the same time, it curled a devious smile to Tav's lips.

Their eyes flitted down to Halsin's crotch subconsciousally, only to almost choke at the sight of the thick snake straining against the fabric.

The aroma of arousal suffused around them, now turned to a thick smog, covering them unabashedly.

It gripped Tav low in their belly and held them by the throat, their own desire throbbing between their legs.

They folded themselves over him and leaned to whisper in his ear, their firm hands gliding down the strong plains of his chest.

They had never been good at being coy.

"Halsin. I would love you to touch yourself while I massage you. I would love to hear the sweet sounds of your pleasure and satisfaction, as we celebrate this together. To see you, to hear you. To bless this with an act of self love." Their lips caught on the hard edges of his Elvish ears, and he shuddered beneath them, his muscles bunching under their palms.

"You would?" He muttered, swallowing thickly.

"To see your beauty laid bare to me in such an intimate and scared act, yes I would.." They hummed into the shell of his ear.

He stretched his head back, pulling his lips back and baring fangs for a split second.

"Show that you're free of this regret, that it holds you no longer. Own this. Take this moment as yours. Praise the Gods with your surrender and pleasure."

Halsin huffed out an unsteady breath and began unfastening his trousers until his large, thick erection jutted free, sprouting from dark hair.

Tav eyed his cock hungrily with trepidation and intrigue, the image of Halsin buried deep inside them flashing before their eyes. The ghost of the stretch around him clenched their sex, filling their mouth saliva.

"Is this truly what you want?" Halsin asked, his large hand waiting in a fist on his toned thigh.

"If you mean to ask; is this an appropriate scenario for two friends to participate in, then no, it's probably not."

His fist squeezed tightly in frustration, as he sighed.

"I thought not." He said bitterly through tight lips.

"However, I was never one to follow rules." They moaned through a grin, as they flicked the tip of their tongue across his earlobe, nipping lightly with their teeth.

The air from Halsin's lungs whooshed out, as he slammed his to grip the back of their head, the other placed on their's across his heart. He fisted their hair, as he writhed against their suckling of his sensitive ears.

He pulled on their thickest braid, desire tugged them deeper with every follicle. Tav's eyes rolled back as they moaned, open-mouthed. Halsin trembled out a repressed groan, biting down on his lip and closing his eyes.

"Silvanus forgive me." He whined, sliding his hand from their hair, finally allowing himself the freedom to touch his twitching, weeping cock.

"No, 'Silvanus bless me'," Tav corrected, as they slid their oiled hand from under his grasp and held his forearm across his chest. They looked up, passed the moon barrier, to the sky, "Silvanus, bare witness to your faithful servant. Bless this act of devotion."

"Yes.. yes." He uttered, head sliding to their shoulder, cradled into their embrace. His huffed, hot breath jagged against their jaw.

Tav looked down to watch him pump his cock mercilessly, the beading precum that had leaked coating the blows. They swallowed his gasps and moans as he pushed against them.

Suddenly, the cold night of the shadows were ushered away, replaced by the sensation of sunlight and the smell of the trees and fresh earth. Tav could taste the juice of the fruits bore and the brilliance of light shining.

Tav smiled joyfully, bathed in the light of Halsin's God.

The All-Father was here with them.

"Do you feel-" He barely managed through gasps. They nodded against the sweat of his skin.

"Silvanus sees you, Halsin," they breathed, an irreverent smile across their face.

They heard words that had no source booming through their mind, they knew the meaning and listened.

"He has felt your faith and love. Your devotion and dedication to him and to the task of freeing these lands. He has found you deserving of his blessings. He granted you passage to retrieve Thaniel because he knew that you are worthy."

The divine words came out without thought, as tears slid down their cheeks.

"Thank you, Oakfather.. but.. none of this.. would have been possible.. without Tav." He keened, grip on his throbbing cock intensifying, "Bless them, Silvanus. Bless them."

The swell of the divine enhanced tenfold. Tav wept at the radiance coursing through them. The heat, the force.. it was indescribable. Incomparable.

"We would have been lost without you. All would have been lost without you." A low whimper rang from the back of his throat, as they kissed his markings.

The voice thundered inside their head once more, words of affirmation and benevolent boon. Tav gasped, their vision blinded by light, their lips rounded into a serene smile.

"You are the catalyst, Halsin. You are the might that wrenches away the rot, you are the sunlight and water to feed the earth.. Yours is the seed that brings new life."

Their other hand came down to grasp at his forearm, feeling the furious movement of Halsin's joy. Halsin yelped, gulping moans as he pumped his massive cock in abandon, thumping his strong hips to meet every stroke.

"I'm-I'm.." He choked, his jaw clenching, rhythm erratic.

"Yes, Halsin. Spread your fertile seed upon this land.." The feeling of the divine power crescendoing in their head.

"Silvanus.. Silvanus.." He struggled, "Bless me.."

Halsin convulsed and spasmed, roaring as he climaxed in hard, thick shoots of cum, spilling over the cold, grey earth beneath him. He jerked and strained, as he spurted thick and full, spattering the grass.

Tav held him close, guiding him through his orgasm, soothing him with sweet words, until his white seed wept down the sides of his softening member.

Still panting heavily, he licked his dry lips and removed his grip from his trembling cock; the remnants of his elation coating his fingers.

Tav's hand slid up his forearm in delicious abandon, bringing his hand to their mouth and greedily licking his cum off his fingers. Halsin hummed in appreciation of their enthusiasm.

Suddenly, the night was cold again, the warmth of divine embrace ended. However, heat rolled of Halsin in waves, chasing away the chill.

Several moments stretched between them, their breath still calming; both needing a moment to recompose. Tav moved their fingers to his temples and wound them in strong circles, Halsin exhaled long and slow.

Tav was reeling. Their body wrung out, their ears ringing. It had not been the first time a God had spoken to them but it was certainly the first time they acted as messenger for a God, especially for one that wasn't their own. They weren't even sure it had ever happened before, and especially not during such a sexual explicit act.

It was incredible.

"That was.." Halsin eventually began.

"..I know." Tav finished, as they carded their hands through his hair.

"What do we do now?" He asked, cock large and limp against his taut belly. An uncomfortable air of something akin to shame tinged his voice.

"We continue the celebration." Tav smiled, picking up the poultice beside them, smoothing it into Halsin's semi-dry, oiled mane of hair.

Wordlessly time spanned before them, as Tav slowly worked through his tangled hair. The coconut poultice soaked into the mess and loosened the knots, the scents of lavender, rosemary and coconut dancing together on the silent air.

Nothing stirred, apart from Halsin's soothed groans and the sounds of the brush through untangling hair.

"Did you feel it too?" He asked, uncertainly.

"Silvanus?" Tav clarified.

"Yes. I've heard his words before but that was.. different." He said, gravely. He sat taller removing himself from their touch, "I took advantage of the situation. I have been without the touch of another for some time now and I sullied this act of friendship with my own desires-"

"-Hush now," Tav murmured, gently pulling back into their chest, "You did not sully anything, nor take advantage of anyone." They kneaded their cheek into his to offer comfort.

"Silvanus was able to speak through me because I opened myself to you and by extension, to him. Put aside these fears. I wanted this too." Tav reassured him, grazing his cheek with the back of their hand. Halsin turned his head, nuzzling slightly and rested his hand on theirs, with another warm smile.

"That is good to hear. Thank you, my friend."

Tav laid their chin upon his head and pressed a small kiss there. A happy moment surrounded them both.

Conversation flowed easily between the two, now that the air had been cleared.

Tav brushed his hair through, with a modicum of difficulty, then sectioned his hair and retied the braids that had previously existed with Halsin's guidance. While he regaled the story of how the Shadowlands had come to be, Ketheric Thorm, Shar, the Harpers and Druids coming together. Fierce battles, death, terror, success, hubris and finally how he'd dedicated his life to the eradication of this curse.

Tav was just finishing the last braid, the one commorating his achievement.

"I've spent this last hundred years of my life in persuit of this goal, forsaking most everything else. Now that it's nearly done, I do not know. I-I feel.. hollowed.. aimless. Like I am without purpose. Apart from helping you with your tadpole, of course." He added with a incline of his head.

"Is that why you're helping us? To feel like you still have a mission?" Tav asked, curious.

The only reason he'd come to Moonrise with them in the first place was to get closer to the Curse. It would make sense that he would return to the Grove, now that that part was complete.

"Gods no, never think that. I'm here with you till the end, regardless of what comes next. You have aided me in ways I could never repay, there's not a chance I'll abandon you now." He said firmly.

"But you mustn't need to feel like you owe us anything, there's no-"

Halsin reached across himself to grab their arm, and with a fluidity becoming of an Elf, he slowly turned to face them.

His earthen eyes looked up at them with a fierceness and urgency that stopped their thoughts.

"My friend, I have lived a very long time. Many lifetimes of others. But I have never met anyone quite like you before. Your bravery, your warmth, your valour. You are unique," his big, warm hands covered theirs with ease as he edged closer, "and I am yours, for as long as you need me. Against Ketheric, against the Absolute.. everything."

Tav swallowed. The radiant energy flowing from his heart was almost unbearable to withstand. They felt themselves drawn to him, leaning in. Halsin followed.

The distance between them seemed miles and nothing at all, as they were pulled together. His eyes focused on their lips, head tilting to accommodate their impending meeting.

The air was hot and doused with lavender and clean soap; the energy palpable. Tav closed their eyes to let it overtake them.

"Ahem." Came a voice far too close, "Not to break up this lovely little moment, but that strange ox is looking more appetising by the second." Astarion drawled with a sass that was entirely his alone, "Any chance of wrapping this up?"

Tav opened their eyes to see Halsin looking irritated but resigned to the intrusion.

They laughed between themselves; the bubble of their celebration had clearly clouded their awareness for intruders.

"I'll be back up shortly." Tav said, tight lipped, their focus still on Halsin.

"I told you to leave it." Came angry, hushed chiding from Shadowheart. Tav heard a small scuffle of clothes being wrenched and Astarion being dragged away, bickering following their leave.

"Reality beckons it seems." Halsin said with a small smile.

"It seems so." Tav breathed out, disappointed.

They pressed their foreheads together, chuckling lightly. A moment shared between them, connecting them.

They both took cleansing breaths and Halsin kneeled up to stand. He took a little time to familiarise himself with his new braids, while they gathered the various glass containers, soap and brush, placing them gently within the silver basin for ease.

Tav had chosen one above either ear, pulling them up into his half-do, to help secure it.

He gave a murmur of agreement, "I will wear them with pride. Thank you for honouring me."

"Thank you for trusting me to do so." They leaned up and pulled out his usual loose curls around his ears to frame his handsome face.

Their eyes met and air around them stilled, cloaked in coconut and lavender.

Halsin quickly grasped them into a desperate kiss, wrapping his strong arms under them and pulling them into him.

Tav's arms wrapped around his neck, pulling in closer, willingly losing themself in him.

Halsin's heat flooded into them; his desire, his adoration, his need.. and into him they poured their reverence, their respect and loyalty, their awe and their unyielding desire.

They felt is arousal pressed flush against their own, and Halsin huffed out air.

He broke the kiss, breathing heavily, "My heart. If I could, I would take you as many times as you would allow. I would caress your skin and fill my mouth with your taste until you could bare it no longer," he licked his lips with the ghosting thought of your essence on his tongue.

"I would bury myself slowly inside you, feel you gloriously stretch around me. Gently make love to you underneath the light of the moon again and again until we are both spent.."

There was a pregnant pause.

"But?" Tav asked, eventually. Halsin gave a long, frustrated sigh.

"But.. tonight is not that night. Not here." Halsin looked disappointed but sure in his judgement. Tav brought a hand to cup his face, pulling their lips into a side smile.

"I know, I agree," Barely nodding, Tav looked into Halsin's gorgeous face, "But know that every fantasy that keeps me awake at night, has your name falling from my lips."

Halsin's eyes darkened, then softened with a sheepish grin.

"Those are unfair words spoken to a man so close to giving in." He teased, still grinning, "I would like to at least repay you for your efforts. It seems a travesty that I should reach orgasm and you should not."

"Dear one, I had Silvanus' light coarsing through me. Trust me when I say that is more than enough excitement," They paused for a moment, "I do believe you're the only man to have actually made me 'see the Gods'." They laughed, quoting previous, over-confident lovers. Halsin joined them, his chuckle warming through the night.

They kissed again, softly this time. Several slow, peppered kisses. Each one reaching new depths in their desire for him.

"We'll have to continue the celebration another time." Tav licked their bottom lip and gently sucked it between their teeth, trying to contain more words, that could potentially leave them delightfully bruised and aching the next day.

"I will sorrowfully count the hours until that moment comes." His loving gaze pouring over their face.

"I will gladly kill anyone who tries to stop it."

Halsin gave a short, breathy chuckle, "I'll take care of this, you have another waiting for you." He swallowed, beginning to pull away but stopped. His eyes narrowed in confusion and he looked to the ground.

Tav turned to see what he was concentrating on, to see a tree sapling unfurling out of lush greenery, on the spot where he had spilled himself.

Their mouth gawped open, eyes wide.

"That's an oak sapling." He breathed in shock.

Tav blinked hard twice, "Well. Silvanus did say that you were the seed to fertilise the land. Apparently that wasn't an aphorism." They returned their gaze to him, expression almost identical.

Halsin shot out a laugh, "Praise Silvanus. Praise you, my heart." He chorused, pulling them close, cupping their jaw.

"Praise you, my love."

•°•°•

Mmhm, that's some good eatin'.. want some more? 👀😏

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

I have all the time in the world. How about you?

There is a theme to Aylin's threats and vows of vengeance that I've noticed and that I want to share.

Do what you will. I cannot prevent you. But you know as well as I, I will come for you. One day.

That one, for example, is for Balthazar, while she is imprisoned.

I cannot prevent you. But I can advise you. Be careful to whom you yoke your fate. One day, when he is severed from me, Ketheric will die. I will not. And when I am freed, I will remember whose recompense to claim.

Did you expect me to beg? To cry? To plead? For what. I accept my fate - for now. But the life of a divine is longer than you can fathom, Sharran. And this cold chapter will close, one day.

And those are for you, when you've yet to harm her, when she's still only warning you off. But then, if you choose to try to kill her, like so many before you:

Was it everything you hoped for? Was it sweet, Sharran, to murder a paladin of Selûne - her daughter - her sword? Congratulations - your mistress Shar will write your name on her hand. And I? I will come for you. When the time is right.

The next bit depends on your character's gender:

When your sons are grown and your beard is long and wiry; when you cannot hold your nightly water and your nose grows as long as your weary, weary days… When your daughters are grown and your chin sprouts whiskers dark - when your teeth are yellow as corn and your sleep grows short and your days are long and weary, so weary… When your children are grown and your eyes are weak; when your nose grows as long as your weary, weary days…

Ultimately, your fate will be the same:

That is when this immortal will visit you, Sharran. That is when I will show you what it is to be afraid.

All these long-term promises of one day, coupled with inevitability.

I find it so striking that most of Aylin's threats include her flaunting and flexing her immortality (as well as her flawless, long memory) over whoever has wronged her.

Present your weapon, soldier. Plunge it into the Nightsong. I cannot stop you. But know this: I never forget a face. HAH! Are you afraid, Sharran? Do you rattle and jump at the realisation that an immortal has your face emblazoned in her mind forevermore?

Everything is but a passing inconvenience to her, she claims, even a century of imprisonment and torment. Outlasting, outliving - that is simply what she does and what she chooses to intimidate with. Promising to wait until you are old and decrepit, until after you've experienced all the vagaries of age that she never will, leaving her sword hanging over your head throughout the entire miserable lifespan that she has permitted you to have.

Then, if you wrong her in a very heinous way, there's the extreme one of outliving not only you, but killing and extinguishing your entire bloodline in order to obliterate every trace of you from existence:

WHEN I AM FREE, I WILL DESTROY YOU! I WILL MURDER YOU, AND YOUR CHILDREN, AND THEIR CHILDREN BESIDE! I will rip this world apart, plank and beam, until every iota of your being is scalded by my light. This is my promise. This is my vow.

Over and over, Aylin builds her oaths of vengeance on the foundations of an utter, even proud, certainty that she will see her foe end, one way or another, due to her nature and the simple fact of her own endlessness. This is the well she keeps coming back to.

And I find all of this, this consistent insistence on it, so striking and ironic, because one of her other main emotional threads is being thoroughly enraptured by and devoted to and just so completely in love with a mortal. One who will age and die and pass into memory just like all the targets of her rage - if I think of Isobel when I re-read all of that dialogue up there, it seems to cut both ways so deeply. But then there's the extra element that every single one of these is spoken when she either knows or is (incorrectly) convinced that Isobel is dead. Isobel, who didn't get to grow old, and who is both an anchor to humanity and a very painful reminder of the truth of Aylin's situation being twofold.

Aylin will outlast what she hates, yes, but she will outlast what she loves as well.

[xxlady-lunaxx]

Live for us | {SaneObaGiyuu}

Theme: Angst+fluff+angst!

Note: TW's!! self harm, suicide, self degradation, blah blah, ok you get it

they're already dating and tanji doesn't exist <3

×××

There was a thing about life that made it so unappealing. Several things, actually. But for one, you don't even make it out alive. What's the point? What do you live for if you're just going to die in a couple years? You don't even know if you'll make it past tomorrow. So what's the point?

The fact stood, however, that if Giyuu died, he would no longer see Sanemi and Obanai anymore. Which seemed to be the sole reason he was alive. He didn't even know if he should keep living for them. He was a nuisance anyway. He would only bother them and they were better off alone. He wondered, often, if they would notice if he died.

Though they did seem to notice other things. Like if he was quieter than usual—which was saying something, considering he was often quiet—or if he hadn't been eating. His eating problems weren't like Obanai's. They were selfish—Obanai's made sense.

Giyuu didn't eat because he hoped he would starve to death. He would waste Sanemi's carefully made food just because he wasn't happy. He was stupid.

He was so sure that Sanemi and Obanai were quite done with him. He figured that if they weren't so nice, they would've dropped his ass immediately. He had forced them into the relationship anyhow, right? He'd forced himself into theirs. Somehow, for some reason, they had let him. They acted as if they loved him—but did they really?

Sometimes, when he watched them, he could imagine that they would be perfectly fine without him. Smiling and laughing. They looked good together. They were better off without his presence. He was nothing but a river between to pieces of land, pushing them apart. He only ruined things. 

They insisted, for his sake, that he wasn't annoying. They said they loved him. They said they cared. But they couldn't truly, right? Shinobu had said it herself—nobody liked him. Nobody wanted to be his friend, much less his boyfriend. So how had he gotten two boyfriends? Simple. They were too kind to let him down. They probably figured he would cry like a fucking baby and follow them like a stupid child if they rejected him. He would. He probably would.

That was the worst of it. He knew why they hated him. But he couldn't let himself to accept it. Or, at least, leave them be. He stuck to them like glue, unwilling to leave their side. You see, they were the only people who could make him feel, even just for a split second, that he might possibly want to live. That he might be worth it. That life might be worth it. Just for a minute. And it was the most selfish thing he ever let himself keep. He refused to be selfish, typically, but he needed it. Wanted it. He longed for it. Yearned for it to last. A little longer. A minute more. 

×××

Sanemi knew what it looked like when someone hurt themself deliberately. He would know. He used to do it. But that was in the past. He hadn't given it much of a thought again after months—years—passed. He began to feel content again and mostly forgot that he'd ever had an episode like that. 

Obanai and Giyuu were his absolute pride and joy—and Genya, though he would never admit it to anyone. They made him feel as if he could lead a somewhat normal life, or at least die a content death. So he went along with his life just fine for a while. Until Giyuu stumbled into his house, face pale and arms slack.

For a moment, he got a sense of déjà vu. He didn't understand it at first and simply picked up Giyuu, asking if he was alright. Then it hit him.

The first time he had purposefully harmed himself, he hadn't been sure what was wrong with him. It was when Masachika was alive. Sanemi hadn't slept well that day and had awoken with a surge of guilt and pain. He didn't understand himself. He had grabbed his katana and numbly drew it down his own body, watching blood spill from the wounds. The blade had been sharp. And he had pressed much too hard. But the pain felt relieving, as if feeling some pain would make up for the loss of his family, his siblings he'd been unable to protect. It soothed his mind. But then Masachika had entered the room.

The katana had dropped and suddenly his wounds stung in a million other ways and he no longer felt the momentary comfort from them. He cried out, standing. He had wobbled towards Masachika, unsure what he was doing. He was sure, now, that he must've looked exactly as Giyuu did now. Collapsing into Masachika's arms, molded by the concern lacing his friend's gaze.

He must've looked the same. Pale and shaky. Wondering what the hell had he done.

Sanemi tugged Giyuu's sleeves up. When he had done it, it had been all over his body. His legs, his arms, his chest. But he had caught a glint of bandages from under Giyuu's haori sleeve. It hadn't been there earlier and he hadn't gone on any missions since they had last met.

The bandages were stained red. It was only one arm, but it was still one arm. It was still there.

He scooped Giyuu up, taking him to his room. He placed him down on the futon, ordering him to stay there before shouting at his crow to go find Obanai and scouring his bathroom for towels and bandages. 

When Obanai had arrived, they had mopped up Giyuu's arm, putting light pressure on the wounds as they dabbed the blood with the towel. The bandages were wrapped around his arm and then they pulled him under the covers of the bed, quiet. They stole worried glances, holding Giyuu in a tight embrace.

After Giyuu had fallen asleep, they had spoken to one another in hushed tones for hours. They hadn't known that Giyuu had been unhappy to the point he would do something like this. And Sanemi feared it wasn't a one-time thing. That it was worse. That it would spread. 

Obanai suggested they spoke to Giyuu about it. He said that they would have to help him, somehow. To make him have something to live for, maybe.

When they talked to Giyuu, the following day, over this matter, he had brushed it off.

"I'm alright," he had said. "I was just feeling bad yesterday."

Neither believed him. Giyuu had never been the best at lying. He hadn't suddenly gotten the talent to.

They ended up dragging him back to Sanemi's house for another cuddle session. This time, however, they involved Giyuu in the talking. The conversation went back and forth time after time, constantly revolving back to the fact that Sanemi and Obanai loved him dearly and then Giyuu denying it and assuming they didn't.

In the end, however, they were satisfied with the results. Giyuu ended up contently snuggling into their hugs and finally giving up with his argument. he seemed a bit happier after the talk and Sanemi and Obanai relaxed slightly.

Of course, they of all people should've known to never let their guard down. But it's only human to forget every now and then. Even when it comes at the worst times possible.

×××

It would've been a lie to say that Giyuu hadn't felt better after his boyfriends told him how much they loved him for an hour straight. But it would've also been a lie to say that it helped him on the long run. See, it made him feel better for about two hours after the talk. Roughly. And then his mind ran wild.

They must've been telling him that to make him stop being a burden to them. So they would stop having to help him. They probably felt pressured to do it. Yes, that was it. They didn't love him as much as they said they did. Words were empty, right? Promises didn't save Tsutako's life. Neither did they mean much when they told him "I love you." They didn't love him. They shouldn't. They wouldn't. Who would love him anyway? It was illogical. Unlikely. Stupid.

The thoughts molded his mind. They made up his thoughts. They made him want to curl up in a ball and cry. And maybe get dehydrated from that and die. Then in that moment he made a decision. It wasn't a sober one. He wasn't in the right mind. But it was far too late to stop him.

He was being ludicrous. Of course they didn't love him! Of course they wanted him out of their sight right away! Why would they care about him? There was nothing appealing about Giyuu; he was quiet and stubborn and annoying. He was nothing but another person to worry about because he was too childish and careless to take care of himself. So he was better off gone. Out of their lives.

His hand was on his katana, pulling it out of his sheathe. Then the blade was at his throat. He felt nothing more.

×××

It came, as would be expected from anyone but Giyuu, a shock. At first, the Hashira were confused. Was this a joke? It was the middle of the day. What had happened to Giyuu? How had he died? And then one word fell upon their ears and they were stiffened with shock. 

"Suicide."

The news reached Sanemi and Obanai first—who were on their way to Giyuu's house to hopefully spend some time together. They had been making their way idly to his house, talking lightheartedly. Then a crow swooped by. Was that Kanzaburou?

The word of Giyuu's death that he'd inflicted upon himself had barely left the bird's beak before the two had dropped their food—which they'd had to maybe convince Giyuu to eat lunch with them—and rushed to his house. The door was broken open—there was no use knocking.

The house was eerily silent for the middle of the day. Their footsteps, though loud, and their calls of his name didn't fill in the quiet that had befallen over the house. They stopped dead at his bedroom door, eyes wide but face otherwise slack with shock. Giyuu's body was slumped down, his head deattached from his body. His katana was held loosely in his hand, blood dotted vaguely on the blade. He was dead.

First came the shock. The processing. Then panic surged both Hashira forward and they stumbled towards his body, kneeling by his side. There was no hope on saving him. There couldn't be.

They searched the room. Had there been something to trigger him? No. What was it? Had they not done enough? Had they made it worse? What had happened? What the hell had fucking happened?

The news rippled through the Hashira. A death like this, though not uncommon for Demon Slayers, was the first amongst the Hashira in decades. Because of that, several Hashira were at Giyuu's house within minutes of getting the occurance. They found Sanemi and Obanai bent over Giyuu's body, clutching each other and shaking. Tears didn't seem to be coming out but silent screams rendered them useless as Tengen slowly pulled Giyuu from under them, wrapping him in a blanket to be buried.

Neither Sanemi nor Obanai knew what had happened. But both blamed themself. And the cycle began.

×××

« Word count: 1921 »

sun is shining, birds are singing, nice day to write angst!

[hana-no-seiiki]

ARDENT EXALTATION, ETERNAL DAMNATION

⟣┄─ ˑ 𝐈. ✧ yandere worshipper! x secret god! reader (ft. yan! god oc)

inspired by my bootiful @sagesskies n baldur’s gate shar/shadowheart

synopsis: if there was one main rule under your creed, it was for your name and titles thereof to never be spoken. but for this worshipper, it’s all that leaves his lips.

tw/cw: yandere & religious themes. yun sadist hours writing. reader calls oc their child but it’s not incest yall ples. character deaths.

TO WORSHIP YOU WAS THE GREATEST HONOR ONE COULD RECEIVE. An honor never to be shared nor declared. Selfishness and secrecy were the traits you valued in your followers. You simply felt that flaunting your presence to be superfluous, if not arrogant — thoughtless. A flaw you often saw in other gods that you wished not to have in yourself.

But of course, you were not perfect. No matter how much you may wished to be, even gods had their failures and oversights.

Once such oversight was Ynaël. The Prodigy, Priest of the Night, and your favorite.

He was immaculate. A perfect example of what it meant to worship you. He dedicated his voice, body, and soul only to you. No one knew his name but yourself. No one else knew he even existed. Those that did were sundered from existence, or lived in the afterlife.

You had only the highest of expectations for your child. He had an outstanding beginning. Unprecedented in your long, well hidden line of followers. You called for his name often. Assisted him in the ways you could as a deity in his adventures. Even allowing him to lay with you underneath the stars as mortals and your more carnal siblings did with their creations.

But as mortal beings and gods alike were, when faced with such high praise, it was inevitable for hubris to fester and slowly creep up on him.

He overstepped.

Sharing his devout adoration to his companions. Showering you with praise as he fought. Spreading your transcendent name throughout the very soil he stepped upon, and the crevices of bodies he’d desecrate.

What more was that he was proud of his accomplishments. You deserved to be known. To be remembered and immortalized. To share the spotlight your fellow celestial beings had. Was it not only right that you praise him even more?

But then, he could feel your presence slowly dimming in its luminance.

You never had a temple built to your name, so he could only ponder at night when everyone else had gone off to sleep or have fun underneath the sheets to wonder why you’ve seemingly left him. Was he too harsh? You were known for valuing mercy and forgiveness, the ability to show compassion even to the most tainted beings. Besides, you would never just leave him behind.

Frustrated with your lack of response to his calls, he sets upon a goal to build you a place for worship. One that was overdue in its establishment, in his opinion.

It took many, many agonizing years without a single word from you, but it was finally complete.

He takes a moment to gaze at the statue of your magnificent form he place behind the altar, soon to be covered with sacrifices and blessings. Anything you’d ask for, just as long as you bless him once more with yourself.

But instead, he is greeted by another presence.

A presence very similar to yours. Yet much, much more powerful.

Their voice almost tore Ynaël’s ears wide open in its magnitude.

“You killed them, you — a worthless scum of a mortal.”

Killed whom? Throughout his years working on your temple he had taken no life. He wanted everything to be completed as soon as possible. He had no time for any sorts of conquests.

“Meet your maker.”

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2024

— to be continued

[merrinla]

Halsin BG3 themed posts for easy navigation 👀

Cut content

Halsin's Sorrow from early access. I also recommend watching the video from Chubblot, he has a lot of interesting stuff from early access on his channel. My friend even drew art based on this story. In addition, there is a wonderful comic A Druid’s Sorrow.

Lift the Shadow Curse. Part I

Lift the Shadow Curse. Part II

Disputes between the and Halsin from early access

Player and Halsin are talking about Orpheus

Halsin wonders how alcohol affects a tadpole

Halsin and Minthara weren't always mutually exclusive

Denor. The other Archdruid of the Emerald Grove

Drafts of the illusions that Netherbrain used against companions

Cut origins

Non-Halsin content:

Shar Temple - Necromancer

Model of the Nightsong from early access

Dialogue between Nightsong and Shadowheart from the old plot

Dialogue with Astarion after Nettie locked you in the enclave library

Content that may be added in the future

Halsin or Minthara - Ultimatum. Video

Platonic path when talking to Halsin at camp: Act 2, Act 3

The player talks to Halsin about civilization, shadow druids and Kagha. Video

Non-Halsin content:

Shadowheart about Wyll after he's been turned into a devil

Shadowheart tells how Lae'zel and Dark Urge inspired her hairstyle

Knock Out Recruitment Minthara Dialogue

Audio content

Halsin's point'n'click lines: all of them, only romantic ones, only negative ones, cut lines, spellcasting

Сompilation of Halsin's cut lines in Act 2

Snoring companions. Honestly, I don't understand why this post is so popular 🤔

Companions charmed by harpies

Halsin's reaction when other companions die

Companions' reactions to the incubus intimacy scene. Currently in the game

Epilogue. The player broke up with Halsin and left with Karlach to Avernus

Video

Funny barbarian dialogue when meeting Halsin at the goblin camp

Player tells Halsin about the letter that was sent to Kagha

Halsin's reaction to the Apostle Myrkul

Act 2: Epilogue. Halsin stays in the Shadowcursed Lands

Small dialogue update in Wyrm's Crossing

Halsin's reactions to the incubus intimacy scene

Option to leave with Halsin and updated animations in the final scene

Other

Lines if you annoying the playable characters by spamming their portraits

Different origins' answers when Halsin asks you to tell him something about yourself

Halsin's character renders

Halsin's concept art in the artbook

Halsin References

Mod Fangs for Halsin

Halsin x Minthara Fanfictions

Non-Halsin content:

Early Concept Art for Baldur's Gate 3

Murals in the Emerald Grove

Murals in the Thorm mausoleum

Art for Baldur's Gate III Vinyl

[punkeropercyjackson]

Fandomsonas creators for selfshippers!!!

Last one's not fandom but a template for horror media based s/is since that's it's theme!!!Reblog if you use 'em + These are all black friendly

[powdermelonkeg]

just saw ur gale/mystra analysis post. im new to the game and dnd lore and honestly… ur take on their relationship feels like the most natural/compelling one??? esp since its all too easy to simplify topics that have many facets and nuance….

thanks for sharing i love analysis and reading people’s takes on narratives : D

My pleasure! (Bee from the future here: congrats, you spawned another meta!)

I love complicated characters, WAY more than I like a clear cut-and-dry case. Flaws, to me, are what make a character compelling and lead to interesting stories about them with choices that can get them into situations. I'm both writing a fanfic and running a campaign where I'm playing as Gale, and in the interest of portraying him properly and in-character, I've gone into SUCH a deep dive into all the decisions and facts that make him him.

It helps to, y'know, also be in love with the fictional wizard, but I digress

The thing about Baldur's Gate 3 is that no character in there is perfect. I've seen a couple analyses about the theme of continuing cycles of abuse vs breaking out of them, but in my mind, in terms of the characters themselves, it goes like this:

The origin characters have just come out of the lowest situation of their lives (Lae'zel being the exception; being tadpoled is a gith's worst nightmare. You're seeing that lowest situation in real time).

Not the lowest point, mind. Gale's lowest was probably the day after he got the Orb. Wyll's was probably the day his father cast him out. Karlach's was the day she lost her heart. But the lowest, accepted normal for them is what they've just left.

They're then thrown out of their depth and forced to rely on you to live. That's #1 priority: living. We get the extremes of these characters before we get their nuances, because they're quite literally at their breaking points.

Then once we get to know them, we see their wants, their hopes, their fears, as they open up to us. Every companion's story is at their own pace, but they all have a moment where they ping-pong between despondency and desire. Sometimes that desire is what we know isn't good for them, like Shadowheart wanting to be a Dark Justiciar. Sometimes that despondency is only for a flicker, like Astarion's realization that he's condemned 7000 people to a half-life of tortured spawnhood for as long as he's been a vampire.

Romance lets us crack all that open more, because if you pursue a romantic partner, they see you as their closest confidant. They WANT to trust you, so they're more willing to explain how they see the world and what decisions they want to chase.

And then their endings. Those often get simplified as good/bad, continuing the cycle vs breaking away from it. But how is Duke Wyll on the same platform as Ascended Astarion? He's not evil, he's not even entirely unhappy. He might even have broken out of his abusive cycle with Mizora, if you played your cards right. And Ascended Astarion is overjoyed, even if he is remarkably more cold.

I think that the endings are less a dichotomy of "this is good for them" vs "this is bad for them," and more one of "bringing out their best traits" vs "bringing out their worst."

Wyll's worst trait is being willing to sacrifice his own wants for whatever people desire of him. His best is standing for what he believes in and ensuring people are safe. Duke Wyll leans into that necessity to turn the other cheek in the name of people who count on him, while the Blade of Avernus has seized that moral compass of his and forged it out of mithral.

Shadowheart's worst trait is blind obedience at the cost of her individuality, while her best is her desire to be kind to things that don't deserve to be hurt. Mother Superior Shadowheart's whole life is defined by Shar. Selûnite Shadowheart's life is defined by her hospitality, especially towards animals.

Karlach's worst trait is how willing she is to accept that things are (to quote her) fucked, letting despair override hope. Her best is her durability in the face of horror. Exploded Karlach would rather die than try to work out a solution in the Hells, because she's terrified of facing Zariel alone. Mindflayer Karlach has accepted her fate and decides to give up her heart and soul to go out a hero, losing who she is. Fury of Avernus Karlach is willing to keep fighting for a solution, and by the time the epilogue happens, she's got her sights set on one.

Astarion's worst trait is his desire for power over people. His best trait is using the tools he has to his advantage. Ascended Astarion has let his powerhungry nature and paranoia lead all of his decisions, with his sights set on dominating mankind. Spawn Astarion has embraced what he is, and carved out a life for himself where he can do as he pleases.

Lae'zel's worst trait is her blind fanaticism, while her best trait is her individual dedication, making her loyalty a marriage of the two. Ascended Lae'zel is a meal for the lich queen, turning a blind eye to all Vlaakith's tried to do to her and literally being consumed by her fervor. Champion of Orpheus Lae'zel has turned her loyalty into something productive for diplomacy. Faerûnian Lae'zel has seized her individuality by the throat and decided her own future.

And then Gale. Gale's worst traits are his hubris and, paradoxically, his low self worth. His best traits are his creativity and wonder for the world. God Gale is the embodiment of ambition, having burned away all but that in pursuit of perfection. Exploded Gale has let his remorse blot out all hope for a redemption in which he does not die, because he thinks he's earned it. Professor Gale leads his life by embracing the school of Illusion and letting his creativity thrive, teaching others to do the same. House Husband Gale has multiple creative projects he's working on, and Adventurer Gale is always finding new sights to see and wanting to share them with you.

There are arguments to be made on which ending the origins are happiest in, certainly, or which one benefits them the most, but each ending represents the extreme of a facet they possess.

So with all that, there's a sort of malleable method to figuring out the ins and outs of a character.

You take their endings—all of them, all variables they can have—and reverse-engineer the flaws and details they carry. Then you start to notice how those work into their approvals for minor things: Astarion approving of your taking of the Blood of Lathander, or Shadowheart approving of standing up for Arabella. Getting a list of approvals and disapprovals is helpful, but having those endings on hand tells you why they react like that to a majority of their decisions.

You take their romance-route explanations of how they act, and apply those to earlier decisions. Astarion's confession to manipulating you and Araj-prompted admittance to using himself as a tool brings to light how he reacts to your decisions, regardless of his actual opinions on them. Wyll's fairytale romance and love of poetic adages speaks to his idealistic nature, and why he takes a sometimes-blinded approach to decisions in which the "right" answer isn't always the smart one.

You take their beginning reactions to stress and use that to measure how future decisions impact them. Lae'zel locks down and gets snappy when she's scared, while Gale immediately turns to diplomacy. Shadowheart has gallows humor, while Wyll turns to quiet acceptance. If they break from these and seem even worse, you know the situation is more dire in their minds than having seven days to live.

And then you factor in all their fun facts and dialogue choices and backstories.

A wizard falls in love with a goddess and her magic, attempts to retrieve a piece of her power for her, is scorned for his attempt and is cursed to die.

Give that backstory to a Tav. Look at how it changes.

A chaotic good wizard fell in love with a goddess, thought retrieving a piece of power for her would be a showy bouquet of love, and was punished for not thinking things through.

A lawful evil wizard fell in love with a goddess's power, snatched the most precious thing she owned, tried to use it to barter his way through to the secrets she kept, and was given a swift retribution.

Same backstory. Same class, same act, same goddess. Wildly different connotations. Wildly different conclusions as to who is in the wrong.

If you take all there is to Gale, all that the game shows us makes up his character, and apply it to this backstory, you get what really happened:

A wizard, enamored with magic, fell in love with a goddess. His desires led him to want more than she was willing to give. In his well-buried fear of inadequacy, he concluded that the reason she wouldn't indulge his ambitions was because he just hadn't proven himself worthy enough. So he tried to prove himself, but he lacked the context for what he was proving himself with. And the goddess, seeing a weapon that had killed her predecessor, saw this ambitious wizard as losing his way and coming for her just like the weapon's creator had. She was angry, she withdrew his link to her, and he didn't know why. So he drew the conclusion that she took his powers to punish him, and let that encompass his fall from grace.

Was he wrong to reach for what was out there?

If you knew that the answers to everything you cared about were not only known, but kept by someone you loved—someone who adored you—what would you do to ask to see them? What if your curiosities were if there were other planets with life out there, or how dark matter worked, or whether or not we could one day travel in the stars? What if it was the potential cure to an illness that's little-understood, or the way to make a program you dreamt up, or the scope of the true limits of your artistic talents? Would your answer change?

Was she wrong to cut him off?

If you were once hurt, and the person you loved—the person who adored you—brought the thing that caused it to your door, believing you'd want it, how would you react to seeing it? What if that thing was someone you thought you'd broken contact with, like a friend or family member you'd been trying to avoid? Would your answer change?

That's the sort of scope that needs to be applied to this, on both sides. You have to take the perspectives of each party, and apply two analogies instead of one.

Gale saw the vastness of the universe, untold wonders, the solution to every question he could ever dream up, and saw Mystra as withholding this from him because she thought he just wasn't worthy enough. To claim Mystra knew his perspective does her a disservice.

Mystra saw a cruel weapon she thought long gone, in the hands of someone who could use it, brought right to her, and thought Gale was willingly following the path of Karsus. To claim Gale knew her perspective does him a disservice.

Should Gale have researched his prize more, so he knew just what he was obtaining? Should he have kept his hands off a cursed book that would devour him? Of course he should have.

Should he have given up on chasing his dreams?

Should Mystra have understood that Gale's pursuit of power was nothing like Karsus'? Should she have communicated when she was angry instead of giving the cold shoulder? Of course she should have.

Should she have given him the benefit of the doubt?

That's the root of their falling out. That's what leads to hurt being inflicted. Understandable, human reactions to the situations they perceive. Unhealthy, unwise choices made afterwards.

You work backwards from this to figure out their dynamic as Chosen and goddess. You work forward from this to understand more of where Gale and Mystra are during the events of Baldur's Gate 3. Gale reached too high, and understands this. His goddess hates him, and he regrets this. Mystra isolated Gale, and understands this. Her Chosen wants redemption, and she wants to make it happen.

Just like we took Gale's character into account, we also have to take Mystra's.

A goddess is faced with a problem. She uses someone who's desperate for approval to solve it, by telling him to kill himself.

An evil goddess is faced with a threat to her reign. She sees someone who's unfailingly loyal and hates himself, and elects to have him tear himself apart rather than do anything about it.

A good goddess is terrified of the future. She sees someone who tried to hurt her, who's going to die anyways, and tells him to use it to save the world.

Same story. Same act, same power, same pawn. Different character. Different perspective. Different outlook on whether or not this is the right thing to do.

Mystra has died, multiple times, to people trying to stake claim to her domain. Someone appears with the very thing that could do it again, right as she's regained her stability.

She does not see mortals the way mortals do. She is timeless. She is eternal. She has a duty to protect billions of people, and one person lost to protect that number is more than worth the sacrifice.

People like to bring up the Seven Sisters as proof of Mystra's cruelty. For those unaware, Mystra asked permission to, then possessed, a woman, used her to court a man (with dubious consent from the woman), and bore seven children, all of whom were capable of bearing Mystra's power as Chosen without dying. The woman she possessed was killed in the process (reduced to no more than a husk, then slain by her now-husband, hoping to end her suffering), and the husband was horrified by the whole story.

Mystra needed Chosen in order to restore herself in the event that she was killed again, to prevent magic as a whole from collapsing and wreaking havoc on the mortal realm, like it had in the few seconds Mystryl had been dead. Elminster, Khelben Blackstaff, and the Seven Sisters contributed to this. The more Chosen she has, the better; what happens if Elminster dies? She can't afford to have all her eggs in one basket.

Mystra has Volo (yeah, that Volo) as a Weave Anchor, imparted with a portion of her power to prevent the Weave from shredding itself to pieces in her absence. All Chosen of Mystra are Weave Anchors by nature. The creation of Weave Anchors was mandated by Ao, the Overgod, and Chosen are the best way to make sure those anchors aren't drained by ambitious people hoping for godlike power. Chosen can, and will, defend themselves, unlike static locations (which Mystra also has). The anchors are why the Weave wasn't completely obliterated during Mystra's last death, when the Spellplague rose up, because they stabilized the Weave around them.

Everything Mystra does is in the name of the big picture, to prevent a catastrophe like the fall of Netheril from happening again. Her restriction of magic, her numerous Chosen, her creation of Weave Anchors, her destruction of those who would claim her power, it's all in the name of the stability she's been charged with. Dornal Silverhand's grief and Elué Silverhand's death, while regrettable, were worth it to bring seven more anchors into existence to save all of the Material.

So someone appears with the Crown of Karsus, potentially powerful enough to try to kill the other gods in the name of the Dead Three. She can't risk being a target of them. She can't risk the destruction of magic again.

Gale is going to die. He lives in fear. He begs for forgiveness.

In Mystra's eyes, she's offering him the best outcome. She'll let him die in service to her, to save Faerûn, and she'll forgive him. He's going to die anyways, and if he does this, she'll give him everything (she thinks) he could ever want in her realm. She's asking him to do what (she thinks) is the right thing.

"She would consider what she considers to be forgiveness."

Notably, she leaves the decision in his hands. She doesn't have Elminster lead him to the Nether Brain. She doesn't activate him as soon as he's there. When he lives yet, she doesn't revoke the charm that keeps him stable. And when he declines, when he lets it go and starts pursuing Karsus' path, she doesn't smite him on the spot.

She is (she thinks) being incredibly patient. If Gale is going to try to be Karsus II, she's ready for him. If he decides to walk off and keep the Orb, he's dug his own grave in the Fugue Plane (those who don't have a god to claim them roam endlessly as husks and form a wall of bodies around the City of Judgement).

From her perspective, she's not being unreasonable. But from the perspective of a mortal, she absolutely is.

"Now, I have a question for thee: what is the worth of a single mortal's life?"

This is a question she cannot answer properly.

I think a lot of characterization is lost whenever someone paints one of them as being totally in the right. But I also think you have to be invested in them as characters to want to see that characterization. If you want to write about Mystra, you have to try to get into her head, analyze the decisions she made, figure out why she thinks she was right, and follow the pattern.

Gale's sacrifice is a very predictable thing for her to ask for.

[awkwardauthorwrites]

Violets and Verbena

Word Count: 3k

Themes: fluff

Summary: Two years have passed since the events in Hogwarts Legacy, in which Y/N has drifted away from Sebastian. What happens when she has to spend some time in the hospital wing and he comes to visit?

Warnings: Potential spoilers for HL

Noreen Blainey, hospital matron at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, stood in front of the two witches, holding the curtain partition open slightly and blocking the view of the hospital cot and its owner.

“Someone’s here to see me?” Y/N shared a confused look with Poppy, who sat next to her bedside. “Do you know who it might be?”

“Natty and Garreth both have Charms right now,” she shook her head in confusion. “Maybe it's Amit or Adelaide?”

“I’ll see them,” Y/N agreed, still sounding uncertain. Nurse Blainey nodded once and left, the curtain fluttering closed behind her once more. “I wonder who it could be.”

“Maybe it’s Imelda, come to apologise for knocking you off your broom,” Poppy suggested. Y/N let out a quiet laugh and shook her head. 

“You know it was an accident, and she’s already apologised more than enough.”

“Chocolates make for a good apology.”

“I don’t come bearing sweets, but I could come back with some, if you want?” a deep, masculine voice came from the other end of the partition, before Sebastian stepped into view. He fiddled with his robes nervously and gave them both a small smile. “Hi, Y/N…Poppy.”

“Sebastian?” Y/N’s eyebrows shot up slightly in surprise. After everything that had happened in their fifth year Y/N and Sebastian had drifted and stopped talking to one another, with the exception of the occasional hello as they passed each other in the halls. She still spoke to Ominis at times, but they didn’t spend as much time together as they used to. She knew he missed the man that stood in front of her, but wasn’t sure how to approach him after the death of Solomon Sallow. “You know you needn’t bring anything,” she shook her head with a small smile and gestured to the seat next to Poppy. “Come and sit.”

“So there was no need for me to stop and steal these from the gardens?” He produced a small bouquet of wildflowers from behind his back, and Y/N picked out some violets and different colours of verbena clusters among the bunch that would definitely get him into trouble with Mr Moon. Poppy jumped up to get a vase for them, shooting a look at Y/N behind Sebastian’s back as she went.

“These are beautiful, Sebastian. Thank you,” Y/N reached over to squeeze his hand in gratitude as Poppy returned and set them by her bedside. “Are these forget-me-nots? A happy coincidence, or…?” Y/N trailed off slowly and picked out the different flowers she could see. 

“You told me they were your favourite once, I hoped they would help cheer you up.”

“How thoughtful of you Sebastian,” Poppy commented lightly. She turned the vase slowly as she took note of the flowers scattered within the bouquet. “Did you know one of the meanings for verbena is protection and healing?” Poppy touched the petals, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she looked over at Sebastian. “Amongst other things.” A faint pink dusted his cheeks and he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yes, well. The quicker Y/N gets back on her feet, the quicker she can get to doing better than me in almost every class,” he played it off with a nervous chuckle and avoided Y/N’s gaze. “It's getting a little boring being on top.”

“It’s been three lessons,” Y/N laughed quietly and turned to look back at him. “I didn’t think you would miss me so much, Sallow.” Sebastian didn’t have a response to this, and went silent. Y/N couldn’t read the look on his face; another testament to how long it had been since they really spoke. Ominis once joked she was a Legilimens, because she could practically read Sebastian’s mind and predict what he was going to say before he actually said it.

“Is that the time?” Poppy jumped up from her seat and grabbed her bag. “I’m going to be late for Potions, Professor Sharp is not going to care that I was on the opposite end of the castle.” She dug into her bag and pulled out a herbology book before handing it to Y/N. “Here’s the book I said I would lend you, you’ll find what you need in chapter seven.” With a quick wave at a confused Y/N and a still-quiet Sebastian, Poppy turned and left.

Y/N took a moment to study Sebastian, who didn’t seem to be in a rush to get to class. He had always been attractive, that much Y/N would admit to herself only, but he had really grown up in the past two years. The last of the baby fat had disappeared from his cheeks, and his jawline had become far more pronounced. His muscles had filled out as well. He had once mentioned to her, shortly after the death of his uncle and Anne had left Feldcroft, that he had taken to fixing up the house and garden there, and she couldn’t help but appreciate how he looked.

“You’re staring,” he murmured, breaking Y/N out of her train of thought. She felt her cheeks heat up and looked away from him as if he could read her thoughts plainly on her face. 

“Don’t you have class to get to?”

“Not one I care to attend,” he moved to the chair closer to her, the one Poppy had been occupying and leant back to stretch. “Not without you, anyway.” He shot her a cheeky grin and crossed his arms across his chest. 

“I didn’t realise you would miss me so much,” Y/N let out a quiet chuckle to mask the strange feeling in her chest. This was the Sebastian she remembered, the one who made her constantly question if he was flirting or not. “It’s not even been a day.”

“It’s been longer than that, Y/N,” he said seriously. “Far too long.”

“Sebastian, I’m so - ”

“You better not be about to apologise to me,” he shook his head with a dry laugh. “Not after everything I put you through.”

“You didn’t - ”

“I crucio’d you,” he interrupted once more, near hissing the word out as he leant forward. Y/N sucked in a breath at the sudden reminder of the excruciating pain. “Not to mention the path I started to lead you down. My uncle…” he trailed off, his eyes going glassy. “I didn’t - and still don’t - deserve your kindness. Anyone else would have reported me and let them send me to Azkaban.”

“Sebastian…” Y/N reached forward hesitantly and took his hands in hers. “I forgive you. I forgave you before you even raised your wand. I told you to cast the spell on me.”

“You have to mean it to cast an unforgivable, Y/N. It wouldn’t have worked - I wouldn’t have been able to hurt you if I didn’t mean it.”

“If you hadn’t we would have been dead a long time ago. You, me and Ominis. You did what you had to in order to get us out.”

“How can you still defend me after everything that I’ve done?” his grip tightened before he let go and leant back in his seat once more. “I came here to make sure you were alright and here you are, making sure I’m alright.” He let out another humourless chuckle and looked at the cards and chocolates by the bedside. “Looks like our whole house has stopped by to see you.”

“Sebastian…” Y/N trailed off, unsure what to say to him. His sudden change in topic signalled he didn’t wish to continue the previous conversation, but she couldn’t let him keep blaming himself for everything that happened.  

“Has Imelda stopped by?” He continued as if she hadn’t spoken and plucked one of the cards from the table. 

“Between you and Poppy you would think Imelda tried to actively kill me,” Y/N rolled her eyes and settled back against her pillows. “It was an accident, and she did stop by. The hamper is from her.” She gestured to the largest present on the table, a giant basket from Honeydukes. 

“Maybe I should let Reyes knock me off my broom, if that’s how she says sorry,” Sebastian let out a low whistle and picked up another card. “Is this from Ominis?” his eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I didn’t realise you two still spoke.”

“Not as often as I’d like, but we chat occasionally when paired together in class.” She watched as he read the message on the card and cocked her head to the side slightly. “Have…have you spoken to him recently?”

“No. Not in a way that matters, anyway.” He sighed and placed the card back down. “I wouldn’t know what to say to him.”

“I find hello is always a good place to start,” Y/N offered. Sebastian laughed, a real laugh and leant forward once more so his elbows rested on his knees. “He misses you, you know.”

“I know. I miss him too. I miss you both. But like I said, I didn’t know how to approach you both.”

“All it took was me falling fifty feet to get us here,” she remarked dryly. “I missed you too. More than I realised.”

“More than you realised, eh?” he raised a single eyebrow and there was a coy smile playing on his lips. “Old feelings resurfacing?” he teased. Y/N’s jaw fell open and her face flamed.

“What? No,” she spluttered. “I never - I don’t - did Ominis say something?”

“No…but you did. Just now,” he grinned widely and took in her red face. “Did you used to have feelings for me, Y/L/N?”

“Shut up, Sallow,” she muttered, feeling utterly embarrassed. “You can go now.”

“No, don’t,” he laughed quietly and reached out to squeeze her hand gently. “Believe it or not, I used to have feelings for you too.”

“No you didn’t,” Y/N scoffed and pulled her hand out of his. Her heart leapt at the confession, even though she refused to believe he wasn’t just saying that to make her feel better.

“Yes I did. I thought I was so obvious about it. Ominis used to joke about how he was glad he couldn’t see because he didn’t have to watch me pine after you.”

“You’re not serious.”

“Y/N,” he sighed, but there was still a small smile on his face. “You’re hopeless. Give me that book Poppy passed you.”

“What?”

“The herbology book. I recognised it immediately. Turn to chapter seven like she said.” He set the book between them and let her flip through until she reached the right page. The chapter was titled Flowers and their meanings. “Do you recognise any of them?” he nodded towards the bouquet he had given her earlier as she pulled the book closer. 

“Some. The Forget-Me-Nots, verbena, dwarf sunflowers…” Y/N trailed off as she made her way down the page in front of her, reading the meanings behind the flowers he had picked for her.

“Now, I will admit, the forget-me-nots were because they are your favourite, but that doesn’t mean I respect you any less,” he leant forward, face tinged pink as he read respect and true love next to a picture of the small blue flowers. 

“I didn’t think…I thought you had just given me whatever you could grab from the gardens.”

“You didn't think I would put effort into something I gave you?” He gave her a teasing smile and watched as she found verbena on the list. Admiration and respect next to an image of the red clusters that sat in the vase next to them. 

“I’m sensing a recurring theme here.” That strange feeling had returned to Y/N’s chest in full force, the one she thought had disappeared with time and distance. Dwarf sunflowers, adoration & admiration. “Sebastian…” She looked up at him, catching sight of a flicker of emotions across his face. “Are these…do you still…?” Y/N wasn’t sure how to finish the question. 

“Do I still…?” he repeated quietly. His fingers brushed against the back of her hand gently and Y/N felt her heart stutter in her chest. “Have feelings for you? Yes.” He admitted, finally catching her gaze. “Unless you don’t think you could feel the same after everything that happened. Then no.” He added quickly. Y/N let out a breathless laugh, one that seemed to relax him. “I thought they went away some time last year, but when I heard you fell today…” he stopped and grimaced. “I felt like my own heart had stopped inside my chest. I couldn’t breathe until I heard from Poppy that you were okay.”

“Poppy?”

“It seems everyone knows how I felt - feel - about you. Except for you of course,” he paused to laugh and shake his head. “I thought you were meant to be smart.”

“When did you…how long?” To say Y/N was surprised was an understatement. She never would have thought Sebastian saw her as more than just a friend. To find out he returned her feelings from before - that he still felt the same - had left her speechless.

“I’m assuming you’re oh-so-eloquently asking when I first started to have feelings for you?” his eyes sparkled with more life than Y/N had seen in a long time, and she felt her heart swell for him. “I’ll only answer if you do as well and if you go first. I can’t keep putting my heart on the line without knowing anything in return.” His fingers brushed her hand again, a little more firmly as he gained confidence. 

“That night in the library. When you took the fall for me.” Y/N watched as he gave her a surprised look. 

“That soon?”

“You didn’t know me,” she defended her decision. “You had no need to get yourself into trouble and lie for me like that. I didn’t realise it until later, but that was the catalyst.” He mulled over her words for a few moments before standing and sitting on the bed, turning so he could face her.

“If I’m being fully honest, from the moment you walked in late to your own sorting I was intrigued. I needed to get to know you.”

“Is that why you were so snappy the first night in the common room when I introduced myself?”

“Not my finest moment, I’m sure we can agree,” he looked abashed. “I feel it's safe to assume I made up for it, though?” He watched as she nodded in agreement, a breathtaking smile coming over his face. “Looking back I started to fall for you when you beat me in our first duel in class. I didn't realise until later though, like you.”

“What do you think would have happened if we told each other back then?”

“Honestly, I don’t think it would have ended well. I think I needed to do some growing to become worthy of you.”

“You were always worthy,” Y/N took his hand in hers again and laced their fingers together. Her heart jumped as he squeezed her hand affectionately. “We both needed to do some growing, I think.”

“You still haven’t answered the most important question.”

“What’s that?”

“Are old feelings resurfacing? Can you get past everything I’ve done?”

“Sebastian,” Y/N used her free hand to gently cup his face, her thumb running over his cheekbone. “I already told you, I forgave you a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, Y/L/N. If it's alright with you, I would love nothing more than to kiss you right now, but I won’t unless I know you feel the same.” He turned his head to kiss the palm of her hand and leant towards her slightly. “And if you consent, of course.” His eyes darted to her lips briefly before locking back with hers. Y/N felt her heart stutter in her chest as her hand slipped from his face to rest on the back of his neck. It wasn’t even a question she needed to think about. She thought her feelings for the man in front of her had disappeared, but if her thundering pulse was any indication, they had just lay dormant until now. 

“It's okay with me,” she said quietly. He muttered a quick thank Merlin under his breath and let go of her hand to reach up and cup her face in his hand. He closed the gap between them slowly, giving her more than enough time to pull away if she wanted to, and paused right before his lips met hers. She looked into his eyes and saw he was already staring at her, a small smile playing on his features. “What?” 

“Nothing,” he shook his head gently, his nose bumping hers. “I just…I adore you,” he said quietly, before leaning in and pressing his lips to hers gently. Y/N felt her heart leap out of her chest and wound her hand into the hair at the back of his head as he kissed her sweetly. He was right earlier, she realised, when he said they wouldn’t have lasted had they started seeing each other in their fifth year. They both had to go through some much needed growing. It hadn’t been their time back then, and as he pulled away from their kiss, Y/N could only hope that now was. 

[fandomchokehold]

mfs in this fandom will recognize that every origin character’s storyline has to do with being manipulated/betrayed and abused

Lae’zel and Vlaakith

Shadowheart and Shar

Astarion and Cazador

Karlach and Gortash then Zariel

Wyll and Mizora

but when it’s Gale people will say he was in a totally cool normal relationship and “fumbled a goddess with his hubris”

like… what’s more likely?

1.) the writers of this well-written lore-heavy story-driven game decided to abandon the common theme for just one of their main origin characters

OR

2.) you’re media illiterate and still have a weird hatred for a character cuz he’s autistic and was bugged in EA 🤨

[reriart]

While Your Lips Are Still Red

Summary: You suffer for what's happening in your life and you tried to put an end to it, but Astarion saved you.

Notes/TW: I wrote this fanfiction thinking about my Tav (female), but I wrote it gender-neutral so you can think about your OC (or you!) without any problems. The theme of suicide is the focus of this story, so if you are particularly sensitive to the theme and don't feel okay, please don't read it! I chose this topic because it is particularly dear and close to me. No one deserves to suffer and if you need it don't hesitate to contact a hotline. You are not alone!

There's also a bit of romance.

Please remember that English is not my native language.

Your sight grew darker and blurrier.

The bright stars in the sky, your only companions on nights when nightmares seemed to prevail, now seemed like many small, confused, and meaningless dots — the last, silent judges of your ruthless act.

You had decided to end everything: the story of the tadpoles, the absolute, the emperor... it was too much.

Your life had never been peaceful from the beginning, but the limit to how you could tolerate pain had become increasingly thin. You had tried every loophole possible, including considering joining Shadowheart in her crusade for Shar's honor; but just a few days before, you had convinced her to abandon the Lady of Loss and embrace her loving sister Selune. Because for her, your best friend, there was still hope, a glimmer of divine light ready to welcome her.

But not for you. Each fight had become more exhausting, each rescue mission more violent, soaked in innocent blood. The harpists, the tieflings. Children who would never play again, men and women who would never love again.

You should have rejoiced that you were still alive. To still be able to enjoy that great gift that life was. Yet now, cradled by the cold waters of the lake, not far from your sleeping companions, unaware of everything, your injured wrists let the red blood stain that crystalline liquid.

After making sure everyone was asleep (or in a trance, or on patrol, in Astarion's case), you had pulled your dagger from its sheath and used it on yourself right on the shore. You wanted to stab yourself and get it over with as quickly as possible, but you couldn't.

And now, at the mercy of the sweet waves, you waited for your moment. The moment when it would all end. You had managed to isolate the Emperor thanks to Gale, with the excuse of "I need a spell that silence everything for a few hours, or I won't even sleep tonight". A little suspicious, the wizard of Waterdeep finally granted your request. This way, none of your group would have the slightest signal from the tadpoles.

Your head felt lighter… it was like being drunk. A bitter smile spread across your face as your limbs grew numb, and your body grew colder and colder. The eyelids, however, became extremely heavy, as if there were a stone holding them down, and his heartbeat pounded in the eardrums like a war drum. The body became lighter and lighter but also heavier. The arms wanted only to go down, further down, towards the depths of the lake.

Your vision became almost completely blurred, your heartbeat infinitely slow: it was the end. One last breath and everything would have ended, if it hadn't been the rippling water and the cold hands (but warmer than your skin) that tore you away from the agonized embrace of death.

Thump-sounding words filled your head, but you didn't understand their meaning. A pale blob stood in front of you, squirming like a madman. A gasp came from your mouth as you recognized the figure. It was Astarion, visibly panicking. Perhaps thanks to the adrenaline of seeing him so agitated, you managed to understand his words.

"What the hell did you think?!" he almost screamed, lifting you out of the water to hold you. His gaze fell to your wrists which continued to bleed and you saw him swallow and clench his jaw. "I… one thing at a time. Now I have to think about getting you out of here, damn it." He rolled his eyes so as not to focus too much on your wounds, a temptation for him, especially after his failed hunt earlier. You didn't have the energy to reply, so you just let the elf pick you up, your eyelids too numb to allow you to look at him. You could only see his worried look, his milky white eyebrows furrowed.

Once you reached the shore, you felt Astarion spinning around. “If I take you to camp like this they'll think I bled you dry before you even let me explain,” he whispered. The companions were not within earshot, although relatively close, but it was normal for the vampire to operate in the shadows. You felt your body hit the ground and when you had enough strength to open your eyes, you noticed that he had found shelter in the forest. Your back was leaning against a large log, your legs stretched out on the damp ground.

“A…Astarion?” you whispered. "What…?"

“We'll leave the explanations for later, darling. Give me your wrists,” he ordered. Your tired eyes reflected fear. Did he want to bite you? Finish you there?

Noticing your hesitation, he took them both in his cold hands. "I do not want to hurt. Let me save you." His voice was calm, but his eyes hid a nervousness you had rarely seen. He swallowed, and bringing your wrists to his mouth, he licked them. His red eyes glowed like rubies and his breath trembled against your veins as a short, strangled moan escaped his throat. He seemed to struggle against himself, before placing your wrists on the ground, perhaps with a little too much force. You almost heard him growl as his jaw muscles clenched and his fingers trembled.

The wounds were gone. You blinked several times, lifting your arms with difficulty. It was as if they had never existed!

“I… thank you, Astarion. For saving me. Because of this. It must have been diff…”. Your head was spinning fast, so fast. You felt like the ground was disappearing from underneath your body and you almost fell to the side, if it weren't for the vampire, who grabbed you, preventing your head from hitting a stone.

“Do you want… me to hold you?” he asked with an apprehensive look, his voice a little more serious than usual. Maybe it was the lack of blood that made you see misleading things because he didn't look like Astarion at all. However, by now you didn't care about anything anymore, for all you knew he might as well be a shape-shifting monster ready to make a single morsel of you. You nodded your head and Astarion pulled you into his arms, resting your back against his chest.

"Better?" he asked. His breath tickled your neck.

“Mh hm” you replied. "Listen…"

You felt his arms become firmer around you.

"I am sorry." His voice was a whisper. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. Maybe all this wouldn't have happened."

You frowned, tilting your head slightly, which made it spin even more than before, confusing you to the point of making you feel drunk. "What…? What didn't you tell me...?”

The pale elf peered at the now distant black lake through the trunks of the forest. He didn't have the courage to meet your gaze.

“That I love you, my dear. Or rather, I told you that time as a joke, at the camp. Those words that I said to all the victims before taking them to Cazador." His gaze finally found its way to yours, glossy for the tears you were trying to hold back. Your heart, slow at first, began to thunder in your skull like a hammer, your breath became shorter and you tried to move away from him.

It wasn’t possible. It couldn't be. Was he taking advantage of that situation? Was he joking? Was it a demon, perhaps Raphael, ready to extort some contract from you?

"I do not believe you". Your voice trembled with fear and weakness, but even if you wanted to, you couldn't escape. You couldn't feel your legs anymore and the breath burned in your lungs. Even if you wanted to scream no one would have heard you.

Your panic didn't come from the fear of being eaten, but from the fact that Astarion had been the last bastion of salvation for you before you thought about harming yourself. You had feelings for him for a long time now, and your eyes often drifted over his slender frame as you tried to fall asleep in your bedroll as he drifted further into the darkness. When you allowed him to drink your blood, his bites and lips continued to torment you in the night, but far from unpleasant reasons. However, convinced that you were not reciprocated and considering his ambition for power and the constant flirting during missions even with bears, those words looked fake to you. You bit your lip, curling up as much as you could.

“No, no, don't be like that... look at me,” he said while lifting your chin with one hand. You didn't want to, you didn't want to accept the reality and feel terribly stupid for almost throwing your life away when the one you loved maybe actually reciprocated your feelings. When your eyes finally met, you saw him for what he truly was.

A fragile creature. His look was desperate, the mouth curved in an expression of infinite sadness. His other hand caressed your hair... a pleasant contact, which made you relax a little. "Listen to me. I know I don't have the easiest of temperament” he confessed, a bitter laugh, with his typical accent, changed his expression for a moment. “And I want you to know that everything you see of me is not… true. It's that bastard Cazador who turned me into a monster. But you made me feel something that in two hundred years, under his control, I had never felt.”

You rested your face in his hand, now cupping your cheek. You decided to trust. If it was a dream or a near-death hallucination, you wanted to live every minute of it.

"What?"

"Free. I feel free” he murmured, and his lips rested on yours in a sweet, delicate kiss. They were surprisingly soft and tasted vaguely of iron and mulberry, but that contact was enough to feel a new, powerful rush of adrenaline bringing you back to the present.

It was really happening. You were in his arms and he had saved you from certain death. And now he was kissing you in the sweetest way possible, both of his hands cupping your face as if you were in danger of breaking at any moment.

It seemed like an eternal, perfect kiss that you wanted to leave suspended in time. When you opened your eyes again, you found his. So vulnerable, so desperate. He ran a finger over your lip, before being grabbed and hugged like his life depended on it.

"Stay with me. Forever."

[v-arbellanaris]

i love in hushed whispers, though i definitely think cotj is more fun as a quest, & at the same time i wish the quest were a little less... clunky? a little less one-and-done? retrospectively from trespasser, it's clear that ihw is supposed to parallel solas' own ambitions, but throughout, it also parallels corypheus' decisions to shape the world in the image he knows and is familiar with, and so i really wished those themes had been addressed a little less... clumsily i guess. idk its hard to say but the writing for ihw feels a little loose - the horror of the reality in front of you because it's Wrong and it Shouldn't Be like this, and there are hints of it, but i wish the wrongness had a more visceral impact? i suppose in a lot of ways this was related to game mechanics but hmmmmmm....

slowly starting to hear the song/singing surrounded with red lyrium as you progress through the game, the anchor not working properly/suddenly deteriorating like in trespasser bc of how damaged the veil is, your companions themselves having lyrium growing out of them (+ being "its not as bad as it could be" about it), actually having demons talk to you/try to tempt you as you fight them, reality itself being suddenly flexible (parts of the ground suddenly disappearing or a giant chasm where you have to Believe to cross it - OOOOH something similar to the gauntlet of shar???)....

my fav parts of ihw are when leliana gets furious with you for acting like this world didnt matter and its all just pretend, as if she didnt really suffer. i wish that had been capitalised more - dorian blithely going around saying dont worry we'll go back and erase everything and make none of this matter should have some more impact... more arguments w your companions abt the decision youre about to make to erase everything they know as if everything they suffered wasnt real! i've got a few more ideas but curious abt what everyone else might've wanted to see in ihw