#and knows that i am going to speak nothing but bg3 to him for the next few days

[queenbol-of-baldurs-gate]

EDIT: TODAY.

Don't call me, don't message me, don't even look for me on the horizon.

Full warning: I will not answer.

I will be merged with my pc for the next few days starting edit: tonight.

My loved ones are bracing themselves.

EDIT: TODAY.

[madwomansapologist]

in the afterglow (of an orgy) | bg3 companions x tav

cw: i'm not catholic but i feel like i sinned with this. gangbang turns into a orgy: the most dangeous polycule in the making. established relationships/developing relationships. m/m, f/f, m/f. cum swallowing. i am just a whore for tavrem.

an: happy 1th bg3 anniversary! i already love those characters more than i love my brother (wink wink). a bit late, my mom's birthday was my priority, but there we go!

They almost broke you.

You could still feel it all. A sort of discomfort that can only exist after immense pleasure. Those lingering touches on your burned skin. The deep bites collaring your neck, scratches on your back and nape. Dried tears staining your cheeks. Raw lips, just like the insides of your thighs.

Will you still feel it all tomorrow? Will their kisses, bites, slaps, hands, still be covering your body once you have to come back to old harsh life? Oh, yes, it will. That pain and pleasure inflicted on you won't suddenly dissapear. It will fade eventually, but you will still have bruises to gaze upon for some time. You prefer it that way. Everytime it aches, you'll think about them.

But not now. For now, there is nothing on your mind. Not a worry, not a memory, not a dream: all you have is moonlight's embrace and the warmth of the bonfire.

Such a loud silence took over the camp. As if it could even be called silence. Heavy breathing and soft whimperings. Moans so loud they still eccho into their heads. Such a filthy harmony.

"Hells", Wyll was the first to speak. He couldn't say much more than that.

Karlach groaned, her throat let out a sob almost palpable. Her whole body burned hotter. Smoke came out of her mouth, and Wyll wondered where she found the cigar. When. If she had more to spare. "More like heavens."

It wasn't planned. It wasn't expected. It was a hard day, and it turned into a cold night. In some moment in between those two, someone had to start it. This. Not that any of them could remember who did.

It was normal for you to kiss one of them when surrounded by the others, but you were always aware of the weight of their gaze. Some prefer to pretend it wasn't happening—Gale and Karlach would suddenly find something so interesting in their hands to look at. Others would enjoy it—Shadowheart and Wyll know how the other taste, and have shared a fair amount of wine watching you with Astarion.

And still, there was a line you decided to not cross. A point where you would stop, no matter with who you were, no matter who surrounded you. They all respected it, just like you did theirs. Shadowheart would tease, some would pout, but none would make you feel less than safe with them.

But then, someone had to start this. They really can't remember, the beggining of the night dizzy and so far away, but somehow they know who decided to do that. You. It could only be you.

Gale put on his navy robe, his cheeks burning brighter than the bonfire. Once he disappeared inside his tent, Astarion rolled his eyes and went back to watch the stars.

He knew it would make things too complicated. Shit, he knew it, but he wanted it. Wasn't it already difficult to be with you? It took him too long to understand you, to trust you, and now because of a night he might have weakened his bond with all other companions.

Not that they even matter that much. You're the strongest between them. Astarion needs to be safe, and you proved again and again that you can do that. Let the others suck on their own insecurities. Astarion will make sure to have you by his side when he avenges himself.

Lying to himself won't change the fact Astarion chose to do everything he did. It was all a choice. Every kiss, every bite, every thrust. And so did that damned wizard. Astarion will keep on lying to himself, pretending not to notice as his heart shatters once more.

Then he felt the blanket over his skin. Astarion opened his eyes, and this time he couldn't look away from the mark on Gale's neck. "Oh, darling, you can be sweet", Astarion bit his tongue. "Unlike your blood."

Gale sighed. He kneeled besides you, covering your body. You were already dozzing off, but he saw a tiny smile spreading across your face. "How you feeling, my love?"

"Gross", you whispered. Gale chuckled, his thumb carressed your lips. You knew your whole body was covered in cum, but you couldn't care less once he licked his finger. "I can still feel you inside me. All of you."

A cold hand touched yours. Shadowheart was the last to get tired enough to stop. Her leg is intertwined with yours, now covered thanks to Gale, her knees stiff against your core.

"You've been so good", her voice, so soft, felt like a lullaby. You gazed at her lips. Such tender words for someone who rode your face calling you a whore. "What do you want, lover?"

Supporting yourself on your elbows, you tried to get up. Once your clit brushed against her knee, you whimpered. Shadowheart stared at you, and Gale held your arms. "I'll get clean", you said, waiting for them to give you space to move.

"Not so fast, dove", Shadowheart sat, the blanket falling and revealing her beautiful body. She was as burned as you. "You took all of us. If you can walk, then I will be scared."

Gale sat besides you, supporting you on his chest. You were sat now, but not any closer to getting up. "You are a sight", he whispered against your ear. "Let us care for you."

"I feel dirty", you said. "I just want to get clean."

Wyll raised from his spot, and Karlach watched as he walked away from her. She felt the lack of his weight on her chest.

She still burns. Less than she used to, but she does. And yet, there is not a person without the markes of her hands and lips. Karlach burned every single one of you, and no one wanted her to stop.

Karlach is used to feeling cold. It was so lonely and for so long. That's the first time in a while she feels hot and it isn't a bad thing.

"Is that a pout?" She teased. You wanted for her to be closer to you, but by the way her legs tremble you knew Karlach couldn't move. So did you. "Don't make me bite it out of you. Sit down and relax. You fucking earned it."

Wyll came back carrying towels and soap. Watching him, you relaxed against Gale's body. He kneeled in between your legs, and the first thing he did was to kiss your forehead.

"They are right", Wyll joined them in this little quest of preventing you from moving. "You've been so good. For all of us. Now let us take care of you, doll."

Wyll then kissed your knuckles, whispering sweet nothings against your skin. As if you both didn't knew his cum was deep inside your ass.

"Astarion, get her something to eat", a voice from behind you made you shiver. "Gale, we need a bath. You can warm water, can't you Shadowheart?"

"Oh, dear Lae'zel, I fear I can't." Shadowheart rolled her eyes, moving her hands as a rune appeared on the floor.

They can banter for however longer they want it. Everyone knows how long they spend fighting one another to ensure they would be on top. Between the two of them, it was more a battle than sex.

Exactly what you said they needed.

A purple glow you saw by the corner of your eyes worked as a telltale of Gale's magic. Only when you saw the bath floating until it reached the runes you understood it. They were about to bath you.

The camp was no longer silent. Watching the chaos of it all, Astarion chuckled to himself and went after something for everyone to eat.

Nothing changed.

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

general taglist: @lovelyy-moonlight

baldur's gate 3 taglist: @citrusbunnies

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[veren-cos]

Astarion x Reader (Bg3)

Gn reader with chronic pain

This one is pretty recent but lmk if I made any mistakes! Not proof read.

Astarion sauntered into the room after a successful night of hunting. He was hyper aware of everything from his latest feed, so the minute you made a move he noticed you were off.

And off you were, you looked like a wreck. You were in the same spot on the bed as when he left — hours ago. "Darling, are you alright?" There was concern in his voice.

You took the blanket and threw it over your face. Astarion's expression crinkled. He sat down next to where you lay, "My love, what's wrong?" He went to run his fingers through your hair but you pushed an arm out to nudge him away. He took a short pause, "I can't know what's wrong unless you speak to me."

You let out a groan, "I don't want to talk about it." There was a something in your voice that Astarion couldn't quite pinpoint.

"Then I won't make you, but please don't push me away."

You were a sucker for contact- holding hands, hugs, light kisses. Anything and everything he'd allow. He tried reaching his hand out again, and you let him.

"I'm sorry" it was barely above a whisper.

He hesitated a bit but his hand kept a steady pace on your head. "Whatever for? You haven't done anything wrong." He laughed a bit, "unless you were causing mischief without me today."

"I'm sorry you have to put up with me." You tighten your grip on the blanket covering your face, avoiding his. You just knew that he was going to look at you with pity. Pity? Anger maybe. Something serious, and you didn't want to deal with that. You felt bad enough, everything ached... Nothing was going right today.

"Put up with you?" Astarion was baffled, "Darling I look at you as pure perfection. You are who I desire to be with, the one who I will spend the rest of my days. How could I ever 'put up with you'?" He even does the quotes with his hands for dramatic flair, not that you could quite see it. "It is you in which my love knows no bounds. Nothing could keep me away from you, as long as you'll have me. I dont get why you cant just care for yourself a little more? You are certainly deserving of it."

This wasn't the response you thought you'd get at all. Your body shook, wanting to cry from the seering pain and his sentiment. "I am not deserving of this. Of any of your affection. I care for you. You are so. Perfect. And I am far from that. I hurt. Constantly. I know you know this, and that you don't mind. But I don't want this for you. You deserve someone who doesn't just curl up in bed all day the second something hurts a bit more than normal. You deserve someone who will... be there! I can't be there. Not all the time. I'm barely here for myself! I just sit here, ignoring everything my body is telling me because I refuse to get help! I refuse to get help from anyone. But i especially refuse to get help from you. Astarion, I can't handle the guilt."

You sit up, much regretting that choice, but doing it regardless to make a point. You took a dramatic breath, "Why cant i take care of myself, you ask? Because i dont care about myself! I loath every minute i spend in this body. Every day! And i cant fathom why you care about me."

He takes a moment, staring into your eyes as he contemplates what to respond. "Darling. My love. Is that what this is about?" You turn to look away but he took your face to make you look at him once again. "I know you are in pain. And I am here for you. I need you to know this. I dont care about anything else. I just want to be here for you. I know I can't take it away, believe me if I could, I would. But you need to tell me when this happens. If nothing else I can just whisper in your ear. Sweet little nothings to get you to sleep, hm?"

And that he did. Astarion laid you back down again, joining you under the covers. As much as you wanted to put up a fight, your body gave out on you. He was cold. He always was, but it felt nice against your skin. He pulled you into a loose hug, carefully avoiding places you flinched at. You reciprocated the gesture, wrapping your arms around his waist. He was working basically as a elven ice-pack, and you adjusted his hands to wherever the pain was. "Thank you."

"..."

"I'll try. I'll talk to you more." When you were done, he placed a kiss on your forehead as he nuzzled in.

"There is nothing to thank. It's what I'm here for. I love you." He let out an icy breath.

"I love you too."

He smiled, "Now go to sleep, you'll feel better in the morning. I promise. And we will lay right here until you do, I won't let you go."

[yandere-sins]

Ummm... Not a smutty thought, but I was having a thought and I'd like our resident yandere enthusiast's opinion. You know Raphael (BG3)? Well, a huge chunk of the fandom is obsessed with him and I know many people who want to jump his bones. The only issue with that is... he's only attracted to himself. So, you know, I guess I am asking what you think it would be like if Raphael really did get interested in Tav/Durge? Does he try to change them? Does he mansplain and manipulate his way into making himself sound reasonable? How does the savior of the city even react to their very powerful, very creeping admire?

As someone who is, in fact, obsessed with Raphael (he's probably my favorite character, and yes, my taste is that bad, and I am choosing him over Halsin, I'm so sorry ;;), I can only tell you that even in my daydreams with him, I agree that it's probably not 'love' what he harbors for someone else but merely 'interest'. But people have married for less, so why worry, lol. All he wants his object of interest to be is... interesting. That's what we can give him! xD (And yes, I do believe I can fix him, but if we're talking Yandere!Raphael, even I give up, lol)

Also, I am one chapter into a Yandere!Raphael story, and I had to ask myself these questions, too, so you came to the right place >:3

After establishing my credentials, here is what I was going off on as to how Raphael could even be seen getting a darling:

Raphael isn't above chasing someone. Not necessarily for very long, but he does make quite a few attempts before sending you to hell (hehe). That is if you are interesting enough to chase. So you need to have something that will keep him holding onto wanting to chase you, be it strength, power, or my personal favorite (and yes, my delulu is that this is one of the reasons he is so interested in the Tav), no interest in him. And he has Korilla stalk Tav; let's never forget that. So, he can be interested in someone and make them majorly uncomfortable while at it.

As narcissistic as he is, he likes it when you do what he says. I am sure he's not above wanting to be admired(considering he admires himself so much and what his goals are). He's all about someone raving about how amazing he is, and if they prove to be useful, then their soul is twice as valuable to have. There is value in raising and shaping the object you desire into what you want them to be, even if it takes some effort. (The same could be said about Mizora if I think about it...)

Strictly speaking, Raphael has someone akin to a darling: Hope. And he clearly is amused by and keeps tormenting her. I am not usually one to encourage more than one darling, but I am willing to forgo Hope's darling status and say she'd be an excellent support to a darling because she's so optimistic still? Despite the torture, she seemed pretty courageous. She could influence the darling, which, in turn, makes them more interesting again. The principle is: He did it once, nothing is stopping him from doing it again. And clearly, he can be interested in people other than himself. (Not to say that his darling will always have his full attention all the time only on them, but I do see that he'd have a good reason to come back to the House of Hope to check on them because the thought of them lures him back.)

(There are surely more reasons I came up with, but it's been almost three months since I wrote my story, so I honestly can't remember lol...)

As to what he'd do with them... it depends on what the backstory is like. What he wants from his darling and how his darling reacts depends greatly on the situation. There is always the good ol' "boredom" excuse but in such a big world with so many possibilities there can always be a good reason how he comes into possession of his darling and why he keeps them.

In most cases, I think he'd try to break them, use them for his own means, manipulate them into turning away from what they've known/loved and towards worshipping him, or simply want to see their suffering. It's a matter of what kind of interest he has in the darling.

In some research I did (and sorry, I cannot find the source, and it might be wrong since I'm not really into the DnD lore that much), I read that even if cambions are raised only with the "good" parent, they'd still be evil by nature. So yeah. Maybe he just enjoys watching his darling's dreams and hopes be shattered continuously and watching them slowly crawl back to his feet, asking for forgiveness even if they'll try refusing him again the next day. Or maybe he wants them to make a contract with him by all means necessary.

Overall, it's a big game for him. It's fun. Watching you lose the light in your eyes or cave in and do as he says no matter how degrading it is. Raphael just wants to control you and have his way exactly how he wants it, but he doesn't mind breaking down your resistance piece by piece over a certain amount of time until he has you exactly where he wants you to be and how he wants you to be. It makes things more interesting and you more valuable. And the more you struggle, the better, so do your worst.

Hope I could answer some questions! Many of them depended on the scenario we're working with, but I hope you got the gist! I'm so feral normal about Raphael, but I hope I didn't ramble too much, lol.

[bg-brainrot]

Halfway through the BG3 Holiday Challenge ✨

Prompt: Holiday Spirit

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Premise: You’re used to being stressed: first, life as a rogue on the streets of Baldur’s Gate, then, surviving the Absolute. What you were unprepared for was how particular holiday stress would be. In particular, how stressful hosting would be. When Astarion notices this, he aims to get you back in the holiday spirit.

Tags: POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Holidays, post-canon, comfort

Word count: ~1.4k (this was supposed to be short, what happened)

Midwinter is just around the corner and you find yourself running around like a madperson– well, more mad than usual. For some gods forsaken reason, you've decided to have guests over for the holiday– you even had the unmitigated confidence to tell your lover, ‘don’t worry, I want to do this myself.’ You haven't the faintest where to start.

Astarion, the perceptive vampire that he is, notices that as the days to Midwinter countdown, your 'holiday spirit' or so you call it, seems to be dwindling. On this particular evening he watches you as he leans on the doorway to the kitchen.

You're walking in circles, apparently unable to decide where to place a decorative candle. After you put it back in the same spot for the third time, he speaks up.

"Darling, are you alright?"

You jump, not realizing that Astarion's been there this entire time. It's rare that he surprises you, so your heart begins working overtime at the sudden shock. "Oh gods, Astarion," you breathe out. "How in the hells did you sneak up on me like that?"

He chuckles lightly and pushes off the doorframe. "I'm afraid I've been watching you for at least half an hour. It's been cute, mind you, but I figured I should say something eventually."

That brings a small frown to your face. Am I losing my touch? Or is it all of this damned stress? You're about to ask when Astarion places a finger on the corner of your mouth.

“Love, what’s the matter?” he says, prodding your cheek up to form a half smile. “You seem to be in short supply of your usual winter-merriment.” You move to bite his poking finger, but he avoids it easily, adjusting his hand to cup your cheek. “Darling.”

“I guess,” you start glumly, annoyed to be trapped in his loving palm. “I am stressed about this whole Midwinter get-together we have planned.”

He brings up his other hand to cup the other side of your face. “I can see that, my sweet. But why are you so stressed? They’re just our old companions.”

“Friends,” you correct as you give him a look. He’ll get used to the word eventually, you’re sure. “And it’s not them that I’m stressed about. It’s… me.”

You feel your face squished between Astarion’s cold hands as he says, “Don’t you dare say something disparaging about yourself next, I’m warning you.”

The glare you give him is quite likely the opposite of whatever holiday cheer is. “Then why did you ask?”

“Because I thought it would be something reasonable!” he says, indignantly, shaking your head a bit. “Like that you were annoyed Gale actually accepted the invitation.”

You laugh at that despite yourself, and you see Astarion’s self-satisfied grin at your reaction. “No, I’m afraid it’s nothing like that,” you say and your laughter turns into a sigh.

“Fine, tell me. But if you’re too hard to yourself, I will spend the rest of the evening lavishing you with praise,” he warns, finally letting go of your face.

"Astarion, I don't know how to be… domestic," you say the word like it may as well be abyssal. "The only things I know how to do are kill and apparently lead a crew of barely functional adventurers. What if the whole thing is a disaster?"

"You know, for someone who seems concerned about disasters, you sure run toward them a lot, my dear," Astarion replies with a smirk.

"You aren't helping."

"Sorry, sorry, I couldn't resist," he says and moves to grab your limply hanging hand. Holding it between his, he brings it up for a kiss and continues, “Well, if it makes you feel better, I don’t think any of us are very good at being domestic– except maybe Gale, I suppose.”

You groan at that. “You’re right, we should have let him host.”

Astarion tugs on your hand now, shaking his head. “No, no, no. That’s not what that means. What that means is that this is new for all of us, so none of us have any expectations. If your version of Midwinter involves decorating with skulls and blood, so be it.”

You give a breathy laugh at that. “I think only you would like that.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I wouldn't rule Shadowheart out either,” he says, taking a step closer to you. “And if you need more brilliant ideas like that, you know I’m here to help, love.”

“But I wanted to do this on my own,” you mutter, looking down remorsefully. “To show you that the holidays can be fun, even if it doesn’t look like it right now.”

“You know there’s nothing I’d like more than for you to prove me wrong,” he begins, finally closing the distance between you and pulling you into his arms. He speaks his next words into your hair, “But I think I’d still prefer it if you were having fun again. To me, the most important part of the holiday is living vicariously through your joy.”

You blink blankly in his embrace for a moment, surprised at how easily his words fill you with relief. “Are you sure you want to help?" you ask, squeezing him to you tightly. "I won't go easy on you, there's a lot of decorating, tidying, and cooking to help with."

"When have you ever gone easy on me?" he asks with a laugh. "And you might want me to steer clear of the cooking, but otherwise, I'm all yours, love."

Pulling away from him, you give him a good, long look, verifying he means what he says. His smile is sweet, his eyes expectant, and you decide that it's alright to let this go – you really could use a second pair of hands at least. "Oh very well," you huff, though you can't resist the smile that comes to your face. "But if at any moment you feel like you’re starting to hate the holiday, you have to warn me!"

He places a hand on his chest in a vow. "You have my word. Besides, I can all but guarantee you that this will be the finest Midwinter I’ve had in 200 years."

“Astarion,” you say, feeling an ache settle in your chest at his admission.

The vampire grabs you by the shoulders and says, “Stop that. I didn’t say that to make you feel bad, I said it to inspire you. Understood?”

“Yes, love,” you say, swallowing down the emotions that threaten to overtake you.

“Good. Now tell me what you need,” he says, releasing your shoulders and gently running his hands down your arms.

You nod. "Alright. Your first task is simple: where in the hells should this candle go?" You gesture to the very same candle he'd been watching you struggle with earlier. It stands awkwardly on your kitchen table like a testament to your frustration.

Astarion looks at it for a moment and places a hand on his chin as he thinks. He walks over to the candle, picks it up, turns it a few times. Finally, he answers you with, “In the bin.”

“What?”

“In the bin, dear. We can do better.” He walks back over to you and hands you the candle, a beautiful white thing that has little snowflakes carved into the side. You wonder what could possibly be wrong with it but he’s already answering you. “I know you were probably trying to be mindful of my taste, but this candle? This isn’t you at all. Where is the red one that smells strongly of cinnamon?”

“Oh, I didn’t think you like that–”

“Nonsense,” he says, waving away your concern. ”If we’re going to host others, we’re going to make our home reflect both of us and be appropriately festive. This is why you were struggling, love. You needed someone with vision.”

You smile at him, appreciating his enthusiasm despite the snark. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you’re starting to enjoy the holidays yourself, Astarion.”

“Oh, darling,” he murmurs, wrapping a hand around your waist. “You know I can find enjoyment in anything involving you.” His fingers grip you a little tighter and he gives you a naughty grin.

You raise an eyebrow at him suggestively and say, “That’s good, because I plan on keeping you busy all night. Let’s start with picking some placemats.”

Tossing the candle into a pile of decorations, Astarion and you get to work, setting up the home you’ve built together for the allies you now call friends.

[leighsartworks216]

I Come With Knives Pt6

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

(The other parts of this story are under the First BG3 Masterlist, or you can use the AO3 link to read it there)

This one is my problem child. I have no idea how to write for the other companions but I needed to have this as context for the companions learning about Tav's bg and yeah whatever I've got better stuff coming up. I am very very excited for future chapters >:)

Warnings: self-destructive coping mechanisms (scratching oneself), mentions of slavery, hints of a panic attack, mentions of emotional abuse, mentions of biting, possibly OOC companions

Word Count: 1,334

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

I Come With Knives Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Everyone eyed you warily. You didn’t blame them. After you scrubbed your hands raw of the blood staining them, you provided no explanation. You’d basically sped in, Astarion trailing behind, and ran for a bucket of water. And stayed there. For hours. After the fact, you changed out the water, of course, but they weren’t concerned as much with the pink-tinted water as they were with the frantic nature you scraped the natural dye from your hands.

Astarion didn’t say anything either. A few of them had tried asking, but he smiled tersely and made an excuse that changed each time. “I was too distracted fighting a beast.” “You know how some people get with germs.” “They really hate the color red.” (This one was not said to Karlach, nor in her earshot.) 

It all came to a head at dinner, when you’d still provided no explanation. Gale handed out servings silently, staring at you as though studying a new specimen. Lae’zel watched you like a predator trying to defend her territory, prepared for the moment the intruder stepped over the line. Shadowheart barely repressed her scowl.

Wyll set down his bowl pointedly. “Haven’t you kept your secrets hidden long enough?” You raise your eyes from your barely-touched stew. You didn’t quite see him. Your mind lingered on the image of the Gur. “Do you expect us to continue following blindly while we pour our souls out for you?”

You bristled. The image disappeared, tucked away to haunt you later. “No. No, I’m sorry.” You sighed and set your bowl aside. Everyone watched you expectantly, more interested in what you could say than filling their bellies. “It’s just… difficult to talk about.”

“Speak,” Lae’zel encourages roughly. “We will listen.”

Astarion frowns at you. He’s taken to sitting beside you for ‘dinner’. They knew by now he wasn’t suited to eating normal food, but he didn’t quite trust them not to stake him through the heart or cut his head off. It was safest to linger by your side. The irony of your trust in him was not lost on him: You understood him best and you feared him the most. That fear may have dampened over time, but you still flinched at the gleam of his fangs, watched him as he left camp to hunt at night. Yet you’d bared your soul to him and him alone. He couldn’t wrap his head around it.

You inhale, slow and shaky. Your hands fiddle in your lap, providing you some sort of distraction. It would not be enough to ground you to reality should the thoughts become too potent.

“I was… am,” you corrected unsurely, “a vampire’s thrall. She… uses me as a blood source. Has used me, for years. I’ve been stuck under her thumb since I was a teenager. It’s… easier to have one consistent source of food than to go out looking for it every night.

“When we were out in the woods,” you nod your head slightly toward Astarion, “there was a Gur. A monster hunter. A-And he said he was looking for a runaway.” Your breaths sharpen into quick, frightened little things. You nearly choke on them. You stare into the fire. Your nails start scratching at your hands. You don’t even realize you’re doing it. “He had nothing to go on, just a name, but I panicked and I- I killed him. I shouldn’t have. I know I shouldn’t have. I could have explained everything. I could have paid him off. I could have-”

“Steady on, soldier,” Karlach interrupts. You can’t look at her, can’t draw your eyes away from the flickering flames, but you know she looks worried. It always amazed you how openly she wore her emotions, despite it all. “Take a breath, okay?”

Your nails stop scratching in favor of digging into your skin. You take a breath, slowly let it out, and your nails ease off. You run your fingertips mindlessly over the indents left behind.

You whisper, unable to raise your voice any further. “He said my master is in Berdusk.”

Quiet. Gale spoke up, voicing the awful realization everyone had. “That’s only a few miles from Baldur’s Gate.”

You nod.

“You’re marchin’ right back to her.” Karlach sighs, heavy and empathetic.

You finally lift your eyes from the fire. Everyone’s attention is on you, pitying and remorseful. “I have no choice. I can’t abandon you all just to run away. Especially with these tadpoles. I have no doubts she’ll find me quickly once we reach the city.”

“We could confront her,” Wyll suggests. “Go to Berdusk, face her head on, free you!”

“It’s not some goblin camp we can just walk into and clear out,” you protest. The idea thrills you to no end, but you cannot allow yourself that hope. Not when there is none. You will be found. Tonight, the next, a week from now. You’ll be locked back into your servitude. There is no chance you have to be free. “Killing a vampire lord isn’t- It’s not just-”

Astarion speaks up. You don’t expect it; he’d been so quiet this whole time. “If we can kill Cazador, we can kill Kir Parthene.” Your stomach rolls around at the sound of her name. “What makes facing my master any different from yours?”

You know the answer. Even if you don’t realize it yet, you know.

You have no qualms threatening Cazador. You’ve even told Astarion that you plan to help him kill his master, once and for all. Free him and his ‘siblings’, and rid Baldur’s Gate of the nighttime threat to its people. No longer would they have to go out, lure victims in as food for the vampire lord. It was so easy to promise. If you could help everyone else, why should you leave Astarion to the same fate you faced after this quest? He should be as free as possible from the chains binding him.

So why couldn’t you let them swear the same for you? What made Kir Parthene so different from Cazador? She was not stationed in as large a city, she did not steal souls off the street every night just for a quick meal, she did not personally carve poetry into the flesh of those beneath her. She had power, but no more than Cazador held. So why were you so reluctant to even dream of your freedom?

You were afraid.

Astarion can see the very second you know the answer to his question. Your eyes open a fraction wider, filling with a bottomless dread. Your heart stutters and your breath catches. He’s sure you’re on the verge of tears as you inhale a trembling breath, trying to keep yourself from hyperventilating, even as your fear squeezes your lungs.

“You won’t have to face her alone.” You turn to look at Shadowheart. “You’ve given us the strength to face our demons. We can help you face yours.”

You want to believe her. Believe all of them as they nod in agreement. Believe they could give you the strength you lacked, support you when you come face-to-face with her once more.

But then you see the deep crimson of her eyes and lips. You feel her nails digging into your skin. The cooing affections that come just after the harsh vitriol. Her teeth digging deep into your neck. How can you have any hope of facing her?

You shake your head and push yourself to your feet so fast Astarion is startled. “I’m sorry. I can’t think about this right now.” You abandon your dinner. It sits, lonely and growing cold, as you step away from the warm glow of the fire and the safety of your companions into the edge of trees surrounding your camp. You don’t go far, just far enough you can’t hear them speaking and they can’t see you collapse against a tree, clutching and clawing at your hands to remove the memories from your mind.

At least they know now.

---

Tag List:

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[rainbowcaleb]

FICLET FRIDAY: {wip edition} : Tangled Threads

Prompt: crossover | Fandoms: CR & BG3 | Rating: T | CW: none | WIP wordcount 2k but only 650 sampled here

“If you ask me, I don’t think we look anything alike.”

Essek bristles. He knows his tensed shoulders are obvious; it’s hard to hide when the cloak moves with the slightest motion, but the confirmation is in the little huff of laughter from beside him. 

“No one asked you.” He shouldn’t react, but the snide words are already leaving his mouth.

“Oh, don’t shoot the messenger!” Essek watches as his companion throws his hands into the air. Or as much as he can with the heavy manacles. “I heard that blue one talking and wanted to set the record straight. White hair and pointy ears? Rather rude to boil it down to just that.” He smiles at Essek; it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Hm. So your friend, the magic one? Will he be sorting this out or will he just be sitting around looking pretty?”

Essek stands up suddenly. The wooden stool he had perched on is uncomfortable anyways. “I will check in.”

“Oh, goodie–”

Essek cuts him off. “Stay here or there will be consequences.” He stealths somatics from his hands behind his back and a subtle prestidigitation rolls through the room. The shadows lengthen, his eyes glint a deep starless void. Then he offers his prisoner the same joyless smile and leaves. He can hear a mutter, “How fun, solitary.” from the room as he closes the heavy wooden door, but Essek is long past tolerating this snark. He triple checks the lock, then practically sprints down the hall to the other holding room. It is a similar heavy door and he raps his knuckles in the pattern Jester had suggested to be their code. He doesn’t really understand the rhyme, but he remembers the meter.

Caleb opens it after a minute. 

“Hallo, Essek,” Caleb looks around in the hall. “Ah, just you? Did you leave your charge alone?”

“Beau has not returned yet.” Essek tries to speak through his closed lips. He doesn’t want to reveal their lack of numbers to the other man he knows is lurking somewhere in the room.

“Ah.” Caleb grimaces. “Well, let's keep it quick, ja?”

Essek follows him into the room, and almost trips immediately as Caleb closes the heavy door behind him. It is nothing of Caleb’s doing, no cloak caught in the door, but rather the large fuzzy shape that bumped into his path. 

Essek catches himself on Caleb’s arm, stifling an exclamation in his throat, trying to keep a professional facade in this room. 

Caleb apparently has no such desire. “Oh, Miss Tara!” He leans towards the cat —Essek can see the fur shape is a cat now— “Be careful, ja? Did the Shadowhand step on you?”

“Excuse me—?” Essek starts. 

“Mr. Caleb! I am perfectly fine, but I was hoping to leave. There’s no food or water in this room, and Mr. Dekarios is wasting away! Just look at him!”

Essek cannot hide his surprise, it is too enormous. He manages to tone the shock down from a gasp to a cough. “Mr. Caleb, is the cat speaking to you?”

Caleb has the self awareness to look abashed. “Well, Tara is a very special cat.”

“And she worries like a mother hen.” The other figure in the room finally speaks up. “I am perfectly fine Tara, and this is just a minor hiccup in our road. I’m sure it’ll be sorted out and we’ll be back to our jaunt in the fresh air before you know it.”

“Hm.” Essek narrows his eyes at the other man. He’s a wizard, it’s blindingly obvious even if the now-emptied component bag isn’t hanging from his belt. The cat —a familiar?— worries him more. Essek never trusts a talking animal, that breed of magic means trouble. “The return to your jaunt depends entirely on how the next few minutes go.” 

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

hello, your datamining posts are fascinating! i was wondering if you came across any info on the other thorm family members and exactly how they're related to each other?

Hi, and thank you! Glad you're enjoying the posts. Here's another excessively long one, because I love contemplating the disaster that is the Thorm family.

To start with, a quote from Isobel that isn't in the game anymore, from when you could have a conversation with her post-abduction and post-tadpoling:

I grew up in the village below here. A place built by Thorms, with aunties and uncles and cousins down every laneway.

So there was a whole lot of them. And it sure did rub some people wrong that the Thorms had the cushiest jobs around Reithwin. Sadly, on the matter of the Thorms' actual family tree, the answer is going to be disappointing, I'm afraid. I haven't found anything much about them that isn't in the game, and the game itself stays vague. (Bonus: writing this up when I've just gone through Act 2 in my honour mode run so this is nicely fresh in my mind.)

The Thorms are but collectors: collectors of coin, glory, blood, and more yet.

The only relationship that is explicitly defined is that Malus Thorm is Ketheric Thorm's uncle, as the head surgeon bemoans his displeasure with his nephew and the way he seems to favour now-openly-practicing necromancer Balthazar in the Tissue and Organ Register.

As for Thisobald, the one I, along with I imagine most other people, am most curious about - not much luck with EA stuff. A model for the "Brewer" shows up mid-2021, as seen in this datamining thread (note also the "Necromancer" who is very recognisably our gross ol' pal Balthazar). That's about it. There's files in the current game that explicitly describe him as Ketheric's son in the meta info bits, which have no reason to be untrue:

In Town in Act 2 we meet the Brewer that is son of Ketheric and shadow-curse mutated. This one is played when we defeat him. The brewer was once an ordinary person, but has been twisted by the shadowcurse and is now a huge, bloated monstrosity. He speaks in fragments, and is menacing but with an air of melancholy. He wants to drink until he forgets everything, and would like to bring everyone into oblivion with him.

As does he himself, beyond all those "Father Ketheric" references that I've seen explained as a potential title for a religious figurehead:

Son of Thorm. Sot of Sword Coast. I am Thorm. My father's tower grazed the new moon. Yours means zero, nothing, naught.

So yeah, a real head-scratcher, that one. Unacknowledged/mistreated bastard son before Melodia is something I've seen suggested, which might work. But then, he's very adamant and proud and pretty open about being a Thorm. If you choose to tell him about the owlbear mother as one of the tales to impress him, he only offers this:

[SUCCESS] Mothers. Commiserations. This place is my mother. Its teats are copper. Its milk is barrel-aged. [FAIL] We all have owlbear mothers. Mine was a lush. Unimpressive.

So was his mother an unnamed local drunkard, or is he speaking metaphorically again? Isobel, I am begging. Please explain.

What we do know is that they were all three alive and contemporaneous with Isobel's death and Ketheric's war (much love to the BG3 Wiki for having pretty much all of the in-game book/documents graciously transcribed, btw), and are in fact not ancient Thorms raised during Ketheric's Myrkul days and his "desecrating my family's mausoleum" phase, as I've seen theorised.

Gerringothe was banned from the Waning Moon (SHE KNOWS WHAT SHE DID). She was also in her secret logbook complaining about Ketheric's brewing war ruining her profits.

Malus is interesting - he has the big, extra-pointy elf ears (and so does Thisobald?) and he seems to be really old. Reithwin Necrology has him listed as the head surgeon in 986 DR, which is a little over 500 years before the events of the game take place, and so about 400 years before Ketheric's fall. Interestingly, the document lists the casualties of a battle between Dark Justiciars, Selûnites, and even a druid. I wonder if this might be a conflict taking place during the original Sharran occupation of Grymforge, which lasted for 800 years - and perhaps this is how Ketheric came to know of its existence. We also get to hear about some of Malus' atrocities thanks to sister Anna Lidwin, a tragic figure in her own right.

The Waning Moon: Consignments, written by Thisobald, is an extra spicy bit of text, talking about the entire family, and the way they operated before it all became an open conflict:

The ale she fed me was poisoned - and by my own hand! My truth serum was all too effective. I professed the lot: the poisoned drinks, Malus' 'treatments', the interrogations - all of it. She means to reveal our 'schemes' to the Baldur's Gate authorities. Unless, of course, I grace her palm with more gold than Gerringothe could muster. Father would have my head if he knew - or worse yet, donate me to Malus.

The document concludes with this very, very interesting bit:

The Harpers came too close - they poisoned Father Ketheric himself, yet he professes no ill effects. Malus insists it a fluke. Doctor he may be, but he is no less a fool for it: Father has achieved that of which I can only dream: immortality. I have long suspected. I can guess Father's purpose, but I cannot fathom the means.

If you beat all of the checks while drinking with Thisobald a century later, it turns out he did find out the means after all (and Ketheric was aware, threatening him into silence):

Player: What can you tell me about Ketheric? Thisobald Thorm: Father. Father is father. Eternal, invincible, forever, except not. Player: What do you mean? How can I defeat Ketheric? Thisobald Thorm: No, must not, can not, will not mention her. You want father's personal mysterious - (secret) - secret. No, not, never! Father said, ordered, commanded. Don't say it, don't say it! The cage. Her cage. Talk and… perish, die, buried. Buried in Thorm tomb. Father told me. I can't perish - no, nay, neither. Too strong, too…

After all, he does describe himself as a collector of "that which holds the most value: information".

Going back to Early Access, the quests leading to lifting the shadow curse evolved a lot, with one iteration being you needing to find "anchors" for the curse. Madeline (now of He-Who-Was quest fame) was a long-dead Harper and the sister of another Harper character called Callie you could meet. She died fighting Ketheric and, disillusioned with the Harpers as an organisation, hated that she'd inspired her sister to become a Harper too.

Madeline? But she died back in Ketheric's day. Madeline. Her name was Madeline. And she died fighting Ketheric with her last breath. But that's not enough is it? Madeline didn't want Callie to be a Harper. Nothing. What you saw was the truth. Madeline died hating the Harpers - and her darling sister Callie has no idea. Indeed. Madeline died realising she was just a name on a tally, and she hated the Harpers for it. Indeed. Madeline died hating both the Harpers and herself - for she led Callie down the same path.

She - or a keepsake of hers, her Harper pin - was one of the anchors for the shadow curse. You could also "witness her last moments" somehow, which I assume grew into the post-mortem "trial" we have in the game now.

The darkness emanating from that... it must be an anchor for the curse. What, I know not, but it torments this Harper. The memento is the key - the anchor. Do you have the fortitude to retrieve it? This Harper's soul is trapped in an endless cycle of pain, fear and regret. Her soul is trapped here - and a memento she gave you is doing it. If you give me that pin I'll put her soul to rest. I promise. But I don't know you. And I'm not gonna trust you with Madeline's Harper pin. So be a good egg, and bugger off.

It seems you'd do something like this several times. Isobel and Halsin were the main NPCs involved here - you'd find the anchors, and then presumably one of them would do something with them.

I've been studying the curse ever since, searching for answers. Trying to restore the damage my father has wrought upon this land. My life is devoted to unravelling the torment Ketheric inflicted on this land. So please, find the anchors, and bring them to me. I spent years researching the curse, trying to put an end to it. Nothing has worked - yet. The Shadowfell itself pours through this place, but there is no single portal or anchor. Ketheric was a brilliant general, but not a mage. He must have anchored this corruption and opened a path for Shar. This cursed land is ripe with grief and regret. Find the dead filled with such agony - find what anchors them here. The anchors would be infused with Shar's blessing, concealed where the curse of the Shadowfell is strongest. |Please do. For now, focus on finding the anchors, it's the only way we can understand the curse.| These are both anchors. Yet I believe there must be more. Bring back another anchor, and I will tell you.

You would progress after gathering all the anchors, and learn that you needed the "blood of a Thorm":

Yes! The anchors alone are not enough to end the curse. We need blood from the Thorm family line. That makes sense. A Thorm is the one who made it. How do I get the blood of a Thorm? By bleeding Ketheric. The rest of his family... is long dead.

I bring all of this up because at one point the anchors became the "Bones of Contention", and "the Thorms" were what was sustaining the curse. This is also where we get the full trio of "Distillery boss", "Hospital boss", and "Tollhouse boss", who you'd need to defeat to get the bones. A great writeup of this version of the quest, highlighting Halsin's part in it, can be found here in a post by @merrinla. And as you can see in the post we once again have Isobel on research duty. These are from Patch 6:

How do the Thorms sustain the shadows? [NEEDS FLAG]

Interestingly enough, that line survives to release, and is now answered by Thisobald during the drinking game with "the spirit of the land".

|Please do. Come back to me after the night, hopefully I'll be done researching the bones you brought me.| |We know about the bones and we know we need the blood of a Thorm...|

I also found these tidbits that seem to imply a "sacrifice Isobel" option was at least something that you could discuss in the game:

But you have all the bones. Can't we end the curse at Moonrise? Does that mean your death could end the curse? Perhaps. I fear my sacrifice alone may not be enough. / It's possible I may have to sacrifice myself. But this is my father's crime.

Funnily enough, behaviour scripts for Aylin and Isobel that are still in the game include references to the bones, such as:

[Nightsong] "Stand with Isobel while she's researching the Bones of Contention"

receivedBonesFlag = Flag([[SCL_ShadowCurse_Event_GiveBonesToIsobel_26c0ec08-561f-411f-9053-458341c6a7e9]]) finishedResearchFlag = Flag([[SCL_ShadowCurse_Event_BonesResearchProgressed_91936c5f-a3f6-741a-3f1f-ac956ee649f5]])

But I haven't found much beyond that.

And with that, I'll conclude this giant word soup. Hope it was at least slightly interesting!

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

Hello! I was wondering if you could please write up a BG3 headcanon request involving Halsin, Wyll, Astarion and Gale? How would they react to/take care of their Tav who has an alcohol or drug addiction?

A/N: Aw, man, do I feel this ask. Sometimes I like to joke that I come from a long line of alcoholics, because, well, I do. But it’s usually me trying to put some levity into serious family discussions. I don’t think a lot of people understand that addiction is a physiological illness: it’s a full-body response, not a case of “mind over matter” as some people like to say. There’s such a stigma and it sucks because research shows that when we respond kindly, and not with punishment or ostracization, that’s when addicts have a higher chance of recovery. So know that while I am no expert on addiction, I did try my best to be respectful and accurate. I hope you enjoy! 

TW: Addiction, Alcoholism 

BG3 Male Companions Taking Care of Tav Who Battles Alcoholism/Addiction 

Astarion: 

In a way, Astarion is kind of an addict himself. He’s a vampire, spawn, or ascendant, he needs blood for energy. He can go for extended times without it, but those times have been tortuous and caused lasting mental and emotional damage. That eternal need hanging over his head coupled with the impact of Cazador’s abuse has permanently re-wired his brain. Astarion doesn’t react like the average elf, he can’t, not anymore. 

So when it comes to altered brain chemistry, Astarion’s certainly no stranger. Although his addiction lies more within the supernatural, he can use his own experience to relate to Tav’s more pedestrian affliction. 

Astarion won’t ever outright deny Tav something. If Tav asks for a drink or a drug, Asation won’t take it upon himself to literally hold Tav down as a means of keeping them from consuming it. Astarion knows that method won’t work in the long run, and would most likely only result in Tav resenting him, and he can’t have that. 

Astarion will make a face or two, however, his expression switches from concerned to slightly judgemental depending on the context. He wants Tav to be aware of his opinion, but he doesn't want to smother them. Tav’s not a child, Astarion isn’t responsible for them. 

Still, thanks to his concern, I do think Astarion would confront them about it. He’d need to speak to Tav to hear for himself precisely what's going on. If Tav is still in their denial phase, Astarion tries hard to get them out of it. There’s no use trying to help someone who refuses to acknowledge they have an issue. Astarion knows, so he understands the shame that comes with it. But he reminds Tav he did eventually come clean about being a vampire, and about his past with Cazador, so now it’s Tav’s turn to do the same. 

Once Tav is open about their struggles, Astarion makes a point to check in with them throughout the day. He’ll nonchalantly provide Tav with alternatives to drink: water or tea, things that aren’t ale, and wine. He’ll be subtle about it though. Astarion will never act as if he’s going out of his way to do Tav a favor. No, it’s not like that, he swears! It just so happens Gale was asking for tea and Astarion thought he’d go make him some seeing as how sad and pathetic the wizards had been acting over losing his goddess, and Astarion thought, well, perhaps Tav would like some as well. 

The most difficult part for Astarion is witnessing Tav endure withdrawal. It’s a horrible, painful process. If Astarion didn’t know any better, he’d say the whole thing looked a lot like being killed and then brought back from the dead. He still remembers the way his body ached and burned and hungered upon Cazador turning him into a vampire. It may have been two hundred years but nothing could ever make him forget that pain. It’s why Astarion wishes, more than anything, that he could alleviate such agony for Tav. 

If Astarion remains a spawn, there’s nothing he can do but hold Tav close, dab their forehead with a cool cloth, and whisper soft words of comfort into their ear. ‘You will be alright, darling. Even this will pass.’ 

If Astarion has become a vampire ascendant, however, he can make Tav a vampire, if that is something Tav chooses. This isn’t a magic fix, however. While there’s a possibility Tav may no longer have the addictions they did as a vampire that they did as a human, there’s no guarantee that hunger will not carry over. Should it carry over, Tav would then be forced to be content with those previous addictions in addition to their newfound bloodlust. It’s a risk. But even if there’s a small chance it could work, Astarion proposes the idea to Tav. Ascendant Astarion would still find it preferable for Tav to be an addict as a spawn, as it makes it incredibly easy for him to control Tav’s actions. Sure, they may still be addicted, but without Astarion’s permission, they can’t take what they want when they want. It would create tension and a fair degree of hostility between the two. But Astarion the Vampire Ascendent believes an angry, vampire-spawn Tav to be superior to a happy dead one. 

And of course, no matter whether he’s a spawn or ascended Astarion makes a point that despite Tav’s addiction, he’s not going anywhere. If Tav falls off the wagon again, or if they’re not ready to try and face their addiction right now, Astarion will remain at their side, waiting for the day they’re ready to try again. ‘I’m not going anywhere my love. I can promise you that.’ 

Gale: 

Gale’s first response, of course, is to try and determine a way to solve this problem via magical means. Now as a wizard, he doesn’t have access to the kinds of healing spells druids and clerics have. But, he does a fair amount of arcane knowledge about enchantments, and curses. And well, what is addiction if not a natural, biological enchantment? Gale considers himself fairly rounded on the subject of human biology as well, so Tav is in for a bit of an earful if and when they first admit their affliction to him. 

Gale may not have experience with the kinds of addiction Tav is, but thanks to his experiments with Weave, and now having been cursed with the orb, Gale knows the urgency of living under a constant ticking clock. If he cannot consume the magic from magical artifacts, if the orb is not sated with bits of the Weave on occasion, he risks blowing up everyone for miles. 

In some ways, this makes Gale’s “addiction” all the more dangerous. It doesn’t merely affect his own body and the relationships with his loved ones, but it jeopardizes almost every other living person within Baldur’s Gate. Of course, Gale would never say this. And while he may think such a self-pitying thought, he dare not share it with Tav. The last thing Gale wants to do is make Tav’s very real problem seem inconsequential because it most certainly is not!

Instead, Gale offers to commiserate with Tav on occasion, making sure to never bellyache the loudest. He wants it to be Tav’s time to vent, complain, scream- to just let it all out. He knows Tav is under an incredible amount of pressure as their leader, addiction or not. Gale wants Tav to trust him enough for the two of them to be vulnerable around each other. I mean Mystra above! The whole camp knows that Gale’s easily susceptible most of the time, so there’s absolutely no shame in Tav admitting they experience similarly at times. 

Gale will take it upon himself to concoct a special drink menu for Tav, all nonalcoholic of course. It’s elaborate and painstakingly organized. If Tav thought their sober options were few and far between before, they certainly won’t now! Gale is the camp’s resident cook, so he takes pride in being able to satisfy not only everyone’s needs but to please their tastes as well. Well, except for Astarion. Blood is not ever to be a feature on Gale's menu, thank you very much!

The part Gale has some trouble with is wrapping his head around someone as wonderful as Tav would ever want such a life for themselves. Gale thinks highly of Tav, sometimes too highly. In some instances, Gale cannot see the forest for the trees thanks to the pedestal he’s placed Tav on. In such scenarios, Tav may have to remind Gale that they’re only mortal. And that this affliction of theirs is no more a choice than Gale’s own need for magic. 

Once Gale is on the same page, he ceases the majority of his condemnation, instead opting to try and distract Tav from the overwhelming desires raging on inside them. He offers to show Tav the Weave once more, or perhaps, some other simple, rather pretty tricks. Rolan’s display of fireworks in Emerald Grove wasn’t a difficult spell, and certainly no challenge for Gale. But if many simple spells are what it takes to keep Tav’s mind occupied as they ride out their newfound prohibition, then so be it. 

If by some miracle, Gale does find a spell or enchantment to help alleviate some of Tav’s worse withdrawal symptoms or cravings, he will perform it enthusiastically should Tav want. And if Tav prefers to handle this the old-fashioned way, Gale will do his best to bite his tongue and respect Tav’s choices. ‘I just want things to be easier for you. Life is hard enough as it is with all this tadpole business running around. Whatever you ask of me, you shall get.’ 

Gale is a faithful partner. He doesn’t run at the first sign of trouble, not when’s committed himself to another person. Be it in friendship, or romance, relationships mean a great deal to him. He refuses to let Tav endure this hardship alone. ‘I do not say this lightly: you mean a great deal to me. No matter the toils, I will stay by your side.’ 

Wyll: 

Wyll, above all else, aims to be an honorable man. Despite his suffering, despite his shortcomings and misfortunes, he refuses to falter or fall. His deal with Mizora may have sullied his Father’s view of him and dampened Wyll’s view of himself, but it did not change how he desires to see himself. Wyll knows the kind of man he wants to be and he does everything within his power to act accordingly. 

For Wyll, addiction is a difficult subject. He’s very strong-willed, and because he spends so much time working hard to do what he believes is the right thing, he can look down on other people at times. He has sympathy for people dealing with such afflictions, but behind his care, a small part of him is disappointed. He believes in choosing to be good, to try harder. He thinks all mortals are capable of acting wiser. So while Wyll understands Tav endures such difficulties now, Wyll also firmly believes Tav will have conquered them in the future. 

This can put a fair amount of pressure on Tav’s shoulders. But it can also serve to inspire them. In either case, Tav would need to talk to Wyll about how they feel when it comes to Wyll’s encouragement. Wyll, being the supportive man he is, would never want to intentionally make Tav feel demoralized. So if there’s something in his behavior or in his words of motivation that he can change to make Tav feel less burdened, he will do so. 

Wyll, like Astarion, knows he cannot make himself responsible for Tav’s choices. So Wyll does not take the part of Tav’s keeper, but he does make an effort to be near Tav as they make their decision, offering his opinion should Tav ask. The more Wyll’s presence remains a constant in Tav’s life, the more Wyll hopes Tav will come to appreciate his perspective. If Tav knows Wyll isn’t going to leave or abandon them anytime soon, they may feel emboldened to make the necessary tougher decisions of turning down a drink or two. 

Wyll is more than happy to stay up chatting the nights the cravings just won’t go away. During days Tav’s irrepressible urge causes them to feel restless and manic, Wyll asks Tav to join him for a lesson in combat. After all, he’s not called the Blade of Frontiers for nothing. Sweating out the chemicals and forcing the body to flush all the drugs out of Tav’s system is a great way to sober up. And if the symptoms of withdrawal aren’t all-consuming, it also makes for a great distraction. 

However, during the periods everything is all just too much: the headaches, the nausea, the itchiness, and the sweating won’t stop, Wyll finds a shady spot in camp for the two of them to rest. And as Tav rides out such agonizing lows, Wyll tells stories of his time as a child living in Baldur’s Gate in soothing, hushed tones. His warm voice brings comfort, a much-needed contrast to the ailment Tav’s fighting. 

Wyll cares deeply for Tav. And he believes in Tav, even when Tav doesn’t believe in themselves. ‘You can resist this, you will resist this.’ 

Wyll has no intentions of going anywhere. Addiction or sobriety, he and Tav are a team. Wyll sees Tav as a great hero: he knows they can fight to save themselves. ‘You are the strongest person I know. Nevertheless, you do not have to shoulder this burden alone.’ 

Halsin: 

Halsin is the least likely to have any shared experience when it comes to dealing with addiction. He has fought off depression and hopelessness time and time again but he knows not of the pitfalls addiction brings. Having lived as long as he has, there’s no doubt he’s met those suffering from such afflictions. And being a druid, he may even have been consulted on how best to treat them. But that’s the end of Halsin’s experience. 

If Tav has an issue, any issue, Halsin is more than willing to help Tav navigate it. After all, Tav helped him save the shadowlands from their darkness. There is no ask too great, Halsin could never say no to aiding Tav with a favor. To Halsin, Tav is a savior: they saved Emerald Grove, they saved Thaniel’s realm, hell, Tav saved all of Baldur’s Gate. Halsin feels he owes them unimaginable thanks. So it pains him greatly to know Tav is suffering. 

Halsin offers to use his abilities to help Tav ease their obsessive mind, and the nagging hunger addiction brings. Of course, druid magic alone is not enough to stop the urge from manifesting and whispering in Tav’s ear. Halsin offers to accompany Tav around town, to sort of supervise them, in his way. He won’t force Tav to change any of their decisions but he keeps a watchful eye almost like a doting father as he places a supportive hand on Tav’s shoulder each time they walk past a bar or tavern. 

Halsin knows he cannot control Tav’s actions, but he can influence the choices they make together as a duo. So long as he is at Tav’s side, Halsin will let his wise opinion be known. 

In their time outside of the city, Halsin takes time to educate Tav on the different flora and fauna found in Faerun. When they come across a plant used to ferment alcohol, Halsin explains the history of the process. Yes, wine and ale are examples of making use of what nature provides, but as with all other things, even nature must be consumed in moderation. Mother Nature blesses everyone with the ability to enjoy such pleasures, but that gift can double as a curse. It is a test of our restraint and humility to know when and where to indulge. 

Speaking of indulgence, Haslin would not recommend swapping one appetite for another, but should Tav want to bide their time engaging in an alternative pleasure, Halsin would be more than happy to oblige. Physical activity and sweating would help relieve Tav’s body of some of the toxins built up within their system. In addition, such activity provides a temporary release of euphoria in the body and brain, which would help combat the pain and despondence that come with withdrawal. ‘If I can provide you with the least bit of comfort. It’s no hardship from me. Far from it.’ 

In the case Halsin leaves Tav for a time to settle the newly displaced within Thaniel's healed realm, he does what he can to ensure his new village is a place of continued healing and sobriety for Ta. Halsin privately enlightens all of the other adults within his new settlement about Tav’s condition. He asks them, respectfully, to refrain from providing Tav with any alcohol or other substances whenever Tav comes to visit. 

Halsin does all within his power to let Tav know they are not alone in their journey, and that no matter the setbacks along the way, he intends to bolster Tav through it all. ‘You are by far nature’s greatest gift to me. No matter the foe, be it the shadows or the dependency within your mind, could ever keep me from you.’ 

If You Enjoyed, Please Consider Tipping Me Via Kofi!

[tavyliasin]

BG3 FicFeb NSFW - Day 8

This one was a little fun, more suggestive than full action smut but I spoiled you with a longer piece yesterday and still have my Baldur's Date piece to write~ As Tav has tried a great many things, and keeps none of them secret from Astarion as she shares her diary with him as they agreed, there's little he doesn't know about what she wants. But there is one thing she has been loathe to admit out loud... CWs and Tags here are pretty tame~ Voice kink, blindfold use, and a slight hint of power play, praise kink, and a lot of teasing.

Smut below the cut! ----- -----

Day 8 - Tav/Durge Explores A Secret Kink With Their LI

Tav was laying back against Astarion’s chest, his legs either side of her hips and his arms draped loosely around her shoulders, as comfortable as a familiar blanket, a deep feeling of warmth and safety in the embrace. In his hands he held a book they had borrowed from Gale, his head resting against hers. She was the faster reader of the two, so it was little need for him to ask when to turn the pages and continue. The moment of peace was well earned, claiming the room in the Elfsong Tavern for nothing more than a chance to rest while the others sought their own entertainment. Or at least, that was their plan.

“This is ridiculous,” Astarion complained, a hint of amusement in his voice, “a sword like hers would not be able to cut through the thick hide of a fully grown owlbear in one swing. My darling, I am getting the distinct impression the author has not been in a single real fight in his life.” 

Her heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice, much as she tried to ignore it. “Well, you can’t expect everyone to have the kinds of adventures we’ve had, can you?” A little thought occurred to her in that moment, born of the blush creeping unbidden up her neck at the sound of his quiet laugh close beside her ear. “Maybe you should change the story a little. Read it to me, won’t you? My eyes grow so weary of staring at the pages~”

“Such theatrics, my love,” he kissed her quickly warming cheek as he relented, “very well, now where were we?” 

“The brave heroine took down the foul beast-”

“Of course… So, the body of the creature fell at her feet as her breasts heaved from the effort.” He hummed quietly in thought, the feeling vibrating from his chest to her back. “Do they really heave? Well. Moving on.”  

—

Astarion continued reading, his voice soft by Tav’s ear, noticing with a hidden smile how her body was growing warmer without a single touch, her head leaning back more onto his shoulder and her eyes fluttering closed. 

Perfect, he thought to himself with a devious idea, now she will have no idea when I change the story…

He was subtle at first, changing a few lines to a slightly more seductive context, taking note of how she reacted. Then he began to lower the book, freeing his hand to caress her soft skin, almost surprised to note just how hot and flush she felt. 

“Should I stop reading now, darling?” He kissed her ear softly, a pleased shudder through her back palpable against his chest.

“Please don’t,” she whispered, “I…like hearing your voice.” 

“Next time I will have to ask for one of his more lewd novels then, if you enjoy those stories more~” The last words came with a slight growl, earning a small gasp from her parted lips.

“It isn’t that,” even her breathing was quickened, “you could be reading the most boring treatise on the proper use of illusion magic and I would feel the same…”

“You have some very strange taste in erotic literature, love~” He continued to speak soft and low, putting more playfulness into the tone, relishing how her body would subtly move of its own accord.

“I…” She paused, as if embarrassed to go on.

“Tell me, my love,” he kissed along the edge of her ear again, a few teasing bites with sharp yet gentle teeth. “What is it you desire? I have read all of your exploits in the diary we share, and played my part in many. Nothing you could reveal would make me think less of you.” 

“Your voice…” She moaned as he continued to tease her with the slightest touch. “I…really love the sound of your voice.” 

“Why didn’t you say so sooner, darling? That is an easy wish to grant you…” He stroked her hair softly before bringing his hand over her eyes. “Shall I take your vision from you, so you can hear me more clearly?”

—

Tav couldn’t stop the moan from slipping out into the quiet room. “Please, Astarion-” 

“Then hold still, love, I will give you everything you want.” He reached over to grab a small dagger he kept in easy reach even now - old habits die hard after all - and cut away the silken cover of a nearby cushion. 

The fabric strip easily covered her eyes, blocking out the remaining light. The removal of one sense had the tendency to heighten the others temporarily, and she felt the truth in that with every word. 

“Now, not a word from you, but there is no need to stay silent…let me hear how I make you feel~” Astarion’s voice melted through her, soft as velvet, long practised seduction this time without any false promises. 

She nodded, just a small sound with it not finding a full syllable on her tongue.

“Good, darling, just like that.” He purred, wrapping his arms around her waist and caressing the line of her hip. “Your body is astonishing, how just a few words can have you squirming against me without so much as a kiss upon your soft lips.”

As he spoke, Tav’s body responded again, without any input from her will. His fingertips found her wrist, trailing up to her elbow.

“Such strength and skill, and yet all it takes is a little talk and you’re already melting into me.” His teasing was infuriating. “Should I continue telling you everything I love about your body, how you moan so sweetly for me, how I want nothing more than to rip off your clothes right now and taste every part of you…”

Tav nearly stopped breathing, already feeling the depth of her lust pooling deep in her stomach, every muscle in her body coiled tense like a spring…

“Or shall I make good on that promise, and keep talking while I do it?” His hands drifted away from their soft caressing, depriving her of any touch but his body against her back and his lips on her neck.

“Please…anything, just so long as I can hear you.” She begged, forgetting the one instruction that she had been given.

“Naughty little darling,” he purred with an edge of seductive threat, “but I will forgive you this once.”

Tav felt him press a line of kisses from her neck to her ear, directing the power of his voice to the very centre of her desire.

“Truth be told, love, your own voice can have a similar effect on me when I hear you beg so very beautifully for my affections~”

[aujbabeyy]

i'm crying over the detail that was put into the mage tower in the underdark.

it's an absolutely tragic love story.

lenore de hurst is a cleric of mystra living in the mage tower. before you ascend to the roof, you can find and read four important books and papers. two, the threadbare book and the roads to darkness, are plays (rather, excerpts from plays). the other two are poems, one on a 'torn-out paper' and the other on a 'patched parchment'. quotes from these works earn you items or actions when you respond to bernard correctly with them.

based on the somber themes of the written works you encounter in the tower and how bernard responds to you (healing potion, a hug, "remember: you are loved, lenore. so much. you're doing great. and everyone will be so proud of you, as i already am.") you'll likely realize that lenore is... pretty lonely. two letters give more context to lenore's loneliness: the letter from amarith, found near some of the other works, and the letter to yrre, found outside the tower near the first arcane cannon.

the letter from amarith reveals that lenore's dog, myrna, passed away. after the death of her dog, lenore attempted to tame befriend a bulette (yes, the one you can use 'speak with animals' to talk with from the deep hole by the myconid colony). very "i'm lonely" behavior if you ask me. the letter to yrre reveals that lenore was, at one point, not alone in the tower, that her and her partner (yrre) split up for some reason, and that she wants to reconcile. I'm assuming that yrre left lenore some time (weeks? months? a year?) before myrna passed and that lenore wrote her letter to yrre some months (a year, maybe?) afterwards. i'm not sure which time-frame would make this story less tragic, but whichever it is... i hope it's that one.

also this... this is fucking sad, man. more magic was used than necessary to create this tombstone, out of nothing but sheer love for the creature buried there. oh my god my heart hurts.

the last bit about lenore that makes me want to sob: lenore and yrre, most likely, would have reconciled. yrre wrote back on the letter written for them to say that they waited, that they would always wait, and that lenore didn't come. the diary entry found in the basement of the mage tower indicates that lenore fully intended to return. lenore meant to come back to her research, to come back in hopes yrre would be there waiting for her, but something happened to her.

what happened?

one theory could be that the sussur flower and lenore's use of it was seen as a threat to mystra (it's noted in lenore's treatise that even those unattuned to the weave feel the anti-magic effect of the sussur flower) and she was punished for it. these events would have occurred nearly a decade before the events of bg3 (as noted in the diary). within the last year of game-time, mystra punished her chosen for attempting to reunite her with what he thought was part of her weave, lost to karsus' folly–without even telling him the orb's truthful origins. it would not be out-of-character for mystra to have punished a follower of hers for researching something that threatens her power. none of this is for sure, though, it's just a theory a game theory.

i honestly have no idea what happened to lenore and it pains my heart to not know. and what about yrre? they return to the tower to reconcile with their ex, only to find a note asking them to wait for her, that she'll be home soon. she never returns. where did yrre go? what did they do afterwards? i haven't finished the game yet but i really hope i end up finding some more lore on these two in act 3.

[zombiequeenblog]

Sneak peak for little mice...

I've been wanting to write something for bg3 for a while now, but nothing felt right until I caught the cambion brainrot, and thought about a lovely date I'd like to have with such a devil. Please allow me to share a small excerpt of what I'm currently working on (Raphael takes you, his trapped little tav, out to a Parisian opera for some possible persuasion):

🥀 "I’d burn a thousand souls to claim yours,” Raphael repeated. I scoffed, moving to step away from him. He grabbed my arm, the part uncovered by ivory evening gloves, and I tottered in my heeled slippers. “Decorum, mouse, a modicum I beg of you.” 

I glanced at his hand upon me, and then I looked up into his face, drawn in, not for the first time, by the hollows underneath his eyes, giving way to fetching cheekbones. I flushed, internally lamenting how he could possibly see the effect he had on me, this close. “I thought you preferred business to begging, devil.” 

He smiled coldly. “Continue to refuse my offer and you’ll soon know precisely what I prefer, my pet. You’ll know it intimately.” 

He let me go and I busied myself in fixing my skirts. “What do you even want?” I queried with irritation, “My suffering or my soul?” 

When I looked up I could see he was offering me his arm, and I took it gingerly, only so as not to annoy him further. “You can give me exactly what I want, little mouse. A pleasurable deal, for the both of us.” He continued to speak as we began to promenade, slowly, down the dimly lit hall. “Serve me willingly, indulge me… and I’ll indulge you. I can show you the benefits of power, of pure infernal will… a dark salvation, for certain, could be all yours, my lovely little pet.”  

We had reached the portal room, and I suddenly felt even more apprehensive for what was coming. “In my house there is order,” Raphael continued, “there is decorum, there are rules. And I believe that you could benefit from such a situation, and benefit greatly.” 

“I believe I am free to benefit as I see fit,” I retorted, “making my own way in the wide wild world, and beyond.” 

Raphael raised a cunning eyebrow at me. “I believe free might be rather overstating matters, pet.” 

[your-talos-is-problematic]

WIP Wednesday!

Thank you @umbracirrus @skyrim-forever and @throughtrialbyfire for the tags! Tagging @sylvienerevarine and everyone else who wants to join!

More BG3 stuff! This one’s a retelling of a pretty major scene in early Act 3, so spoilers ahead as usual. Also it’s got missing chunks signified by a double space as usual. I am impressed by some of y’all’s ability to not jump around while you’re writing 😅 I really like writing BG3 and this scene stuck out to me as such an uncomfortable moment in game. I’m quite proud of this WIP so far :D

————————————————————————

A servant approached us and gave an awkward half bow. “The Archduke-to-be wishes to speak with you,” they said. I cursed the ambiguity of the you pronoun in Common. The request felt pointed at Karlach and I, but I waved over Astarion and Wyll anyways. They were locked in what seemed like an extremely boring conversation with a noble. Once they had extracted themselves, I pointed with my tail towards the throne. “It’s go time,” I said. “Remember, we’re staying peaceful for now.” I could feel Karlach’s hand heat up a bit in mine. I pressed a horn to her forearm, hoping she got the message. I don’t want to do this either, but we have to.

Gortash lightly picked up my right hand and placed it between his gloves. I shivered. This is wrong. It was wrong for him to be staring at me so intensely with a face like he was plotting something. It was wrong that Karlach was twenty feet from the man who ruined most of her life and I wouldn’t let her do anything about it. He was even holding my hand wrong- the metal tip of his glove dug into the scales at my wrist. Most stupidly of all, my brain screamed that it was wrong of me to have taken my own gloves off earlier, since it was against the dress code.

I couldn’t take my eyes off his face. I swear there were more people around earlier. From this angle, everyone was too far, Karlach and Astarion and Wyll and Gortash’s guards. Right now, it was just us and two massive Steel Watchers lurking behind the throne. It was disgustingly private. I held eye contact, but I could feel my heartbeat speed up in panic.

“Your name is Tilia, correct?” he asked. It was such a strange, normal question for him to be asking. Unsettling, but at least it made it easy to answer.

“Tilia of Tragedy,” I clarified. My voice came out shaky.

He smiled and nodded. “A virtue name, I assume. Very infernal.”

Instead of thinking of a response, I just nodded. When had I ever gotten choked up like this? Titles didn’t scare me. Neither did thrones or the middle-aged men who thought they deserved to sit on them. The Steel Watchers scare me, I guess. They had a scent that was very familiar, like they might be made of infernal iron. And there were at least six of them in the room, but only four of us. Stay focused, Tragedy. You’re not fighting right now. “Yes,” I said. I wasn’t quite sure what question I was answering.

As soon as we were in the hall, Karlach whipped around to face me. “What the fuck was that, Tilia?” She sounded both mad and disappointed.

“I know,” I said. I could feel my tail trying to wrap itself around my ankle. Her being mad felt wrong; her being mad at me felt much, much worse. “But we agreed that we’d stay peaceful-“

“We said we’d stay peaceful,” Wyll said. “Not make an alliance with him.” Astarion said nothing, but stared at me with an incomprehensible expression.

At least that was an easy claim to dispute. “We’re not making an alliance with him. I’d never do that.” It was so strange to be on the defensive against Karlach and Wyll.

“Why would you tell him you’d consider it?” Karlach hissed.

“Karlach, I-“ My eyes were watering. I gave up on words and just pointed to the end of the hallway, where a Steel Watcher stood on guard. My friends followed my hand. While the three of them were turned away, I sniffled and tried to regain my confidence. “Right now, we’re too vulnerable to risk angering the city’s government, especially when he has the Steel Watch with him,” I explained, my voice calm. “I didn’t want to refuse his offer outright and give him a reason to be mad. But I promise that I will never, ever accept it. Even if it means the city turns on us.” I stared into Karlach’s eyes, pleading for a reaction.

Wyll spoke first. “I see where you’re coming from, Tilia. I think we all-“ he angled his head towards Karlach- “would have just liked to have been briefed beforehand.”

I pressed my lips together. “In my defense, I was not expecting him to be okay with sharing power with anyone.”

Astarion piped up. “Clearly someone thinks you’d be a good Archduke.” It seemed to snap everyone out of their emotions. Wyll shook his head with a sigh, and Karlach laughed and walked over to me to ruffle my hair. Her hands were still warm, but not dangerously hot anymore.

“I’d be a horrible Archduke,” I said. “Plus I wouldn’t get to use my university degree.”

Karlach leaned down to kiss me. I breathed a sigh of relief. “Nerd,” she said with a giggle. “Now let’s get out of here before we run into anybody else.”

“That seems like a good idea.” I grabbed Karlach’s hand. We both waited for Wyll and Astarion to start walking before we did, falling into step a bit behind them.

After a few silent minutes, Karlach asked, “He was talking pretty quiet for a bit there. Did he say anything… weird to you?”

I frowned. “No, but there was an undertone.” I rubbed my forehead scales against her. “That’s kind of the only way you can have two people on the throne, so… I don’t think he meant anything by it.”

She nodded. “Hopefully. Or he just has a thing for tieflings.” We both laughed emptily. My heart was still beating at a mile a minute, and the faint crown of flames around her head made it clear that she wasn’t all the way done with being mad at him. Or at me.

[veren-cos]

Just Let Me In

Astarion (Bg3) x reader

TW: Contains mentions of self-harm. Do not read this if you are not in an okay mental state. If this is something you struggle with, I strongly recommend you reach out to someone.

"I just need you to let me in." He held on to your hands, tightly grasping you. It's as though he thought if he let you go, you'd disappear. "I see you. I see you're hurting. I see you're hurting yourself!" He makes a gesture to you and your new scrapes and cuts. "But I need you to talk to me! I can't help you if you don't let me!"

You looked away. It had been so long since you had hurt yourself. So long. You were doing so well. And then it hit. You had tried to hide it, but Astarion knew every part of you. He knew something had changed.

Tears began picking at your eyes. You turned back and just stared at him. Every time you tried to speak, nothing came out.

And then tears spilled.

"My love, my darling. It's okay. I'm not.. Upset." He made a face. "Okay I'm upset. But I'm not angry. I could never be angry at you. I'm upset because you didn't talk to me. Because you felt like you couldn't, given your stammering."

He pulled you into a loose hug, and then led you to a chair. Once he had you sitting, he got a cup of water, and set it on the desk next to you. He crouched in front of you, and reclaimed his hold on your hands.

"Take a deep breath." He didn't need to breath, but he made a bit of a show to get you to follow his lead. "There you go, Darling. You're okay. Drink some water once you catch your breath."

It takes a while, but you finally stabled. Your breath was at a normal pace, and you weren't actively sobbing.

"Good. You are doing so well. Now." He made sure you were looking in his eyes. "Talk to me."

And you felt like crying. Again. Gods is this what you were going to do all night?

"I'm sorry."

"No." He sighed, "No, don't be sorry. You didn't do this because you're sorry. You're sorry because you've hurt yourself. What is the cause?"

Another brief pause to calm your eyes. He held your hands as you began to speak.

"I don't know what to do with myself. Any reason that I could possibly give doesn't seem good enough. I know I shouldn't be like this. I know I shouldn't do this. But it felt like I needed to...'

You continued, "Astarion.. Astarion, it had been so long, you have to believe me! I was doing so well! I have been trying so hard. I dont know why I'm like this, and I don't know how to fix it. I'm sorry."

He pulled you into another hug, and leaned against you to keep his balance on the floor. "Shhh shhh..." He rubbed small circles on your back. "It's okay. You can do this. I'm right here. Keep going. It's okay."

You took a deep breath. "I don't like myself. I'm not good enough. I know you will just say that I am, but I could be doing so much more. All I want is to get this damned parasite out of my head. All I want is to be okay. Okay, and with you. But I don't know how to deal with this. It's too much. The only way I know how is with. Well. I mean you saw it. I don't think I can say it out loud. Not yet."

You had managed to get through your whole speech without crying. You clearly said every word, even through the shaky breaths.

"Well then let's start from there. I am so proud of you, darling. You have done so much. You have helped me - and our rag-tag bunch of idiots out there - more times than I can count, and more than you'll ever know. You are doing so well, and yes you took a step back. But that is okay. You will take two steps forward. And I will be right here."

Astarion pulled back from the hug to look you in your eyes. Even after crying, he still thought you were the most beautiful person in faerun. He made a note to tell you that later.

"I love you. And it will be okay. You will be okay. Now let's just take a moment to get you all fixed up. I can steal a potion of lesser healing from shadowheart maybe?"

You nodded in response, but with a look that said 'but no stealing' which he promptly ignored.

Once he came back, he had you drink it and then laid down. He gestured for you to lay beside him. But you settled on his chest, wrapping your leg over his waist.

"Thank you." You all but whispered.

"There is nothing to thank. Now sleep, my love."

You felt a bit better from the potion. It had sealed up the new cuts. Made it as if they were never there. But you knew. You knew that it would feel like it never went away. You still felt as though the wound in your mind was wide open.

But it would be okay. You had Astarion with you. He sat next to you as you went to sleep, your hand in one of his, and a book in the other. He quietly read out loud, enough for you to follow along but low enough as to not disturb you if you fell asleep. He cared for you. He cared for you so much you didn't know what to do with yourself.

So yes, it would be okay. He made it okay.

You had finally let him in.

Authors Note: Once again, if you are struggling with self harm or suicidal thoughts, please reach out for help. There are multiple help lines and resources depending on your region which are easy to find on Google. Talk to your friends. I promise things get better.

Ps. If there is a way I can more clearly label the trigger warning lmk, I wasn't entirely sure how to phrase it, but it serves its purpose.

[bakuliwrites]

So, I've been in the midst of planning for a longer BG3 fic featuring my Tav, Orlando (a Tiefling with a deep sea aesthetic), and her questline, were she to have one. However, my brain is in a bit of a fog right now and all I've really been able to write for it are a series of letters between her and Gortash. Also, Gortash storyline spoilers. TW: toxic relationship, slightly suggestive

For some context, I wrote up a post about them here. Otherwise, here are the final letters they sent one another before Orlando was captured by the mindflayers and tadpoled. Orlando doesn't have any idea what Gortash is up to, other than he's rising in the political sphere. She's not sure how, but she has some suspicions. Note: They write in code to one another and Gortash signs his letters as EF because Orlando knew him mostly as his surname Flymm when they were young

Orlando to Gortash:

My Cherished E,

I grow weary of you dodging my questions. You act as if you are doing me a favor by sparing me the dirty details of your work. You are not a martyr, and I am not a little girl trapped in a pond in the dank basement of a devil’s lair. I can handle whatever it is you have done. I have my own skeletons in the closet, as you well know. Over the years, you have shown me yours piece by piece, rib by rib, vertebrae by vertebrae. Can you not simply rip the wool from my eyes? I don’t care what it costs me. I suffer more in the dark. 

You speak of our future together as if it is set in stone, yet when I ask to come see you, you deny me. You push me away, E. And then draw me back in, time and again, with promises of tomorrow. You say your furtiveness is for my protection. But I think you are afraid of something. Of me, E? Of me leaving? I won’t make promises I can’t keep, but can’t you at least grant me the respect of knowledge? Can’t you tell me what “grand plan” you have that’s to guarantee our future? 

Sometimes I wonder if, perhaps, you are ashamed of us. Of where we came from, who we used to be. Would I be a detriment to your campaign? Were I to show up in the midst of your glory, would I disrupt the delicate balance you’ve built? You run from the past, as do I, but I’m tired of it. 

E, as always- as it has been since our youth and as it shall always be- my heart is yours. But if our path is to be one paved in secrecy and withholding, I will need to reevaluate where we stand with one another. It is painful for me to write this, but I have shed too many tears to remain reticent over the matter.

Yours Eternally,

OM

Gortash's Response:

My Abyssal Angel,

You wound me. If you would indulge me for a moment- imagine me, sitting at the desk in my office, bathed in fading candlelight, head hung in defeat as I pour over the letters you’ve sent me these last several months. Imagine the heavy sigh that escapes my lips as my eyes sweep over the closing of your last communication. Can you not hear the very ache of my heart when I read your cutting words? To imply that I have some ulterior motive for keeping my work from you wounds my very soul. My secrecy is your safety. My discretion, your protection.

Nothing has changed, my dearest. There is, and forever shall be, a place for you at my side. As there always has been. We are equals. My plans have always included space for you. But I “martyr” myself (as you put it) not just for you, but for my campaign. What if our letters were to be intercepted? What if our code were to be broken? What then? All would fall to ruin. I would have nothing to give you. But if you are going to be so insistent upon knowing the nitty-gritty details, then it seems I can no longer hide them from you. Come to me in Baldur’s Gate, quick as you can, and I will divulge everything. Let me prove to you that it is not shame I feel. I work only to protect you. 

But I must warn you- what you learn will irrevocably alter the nature of our relationship. If you are ready for this, then by all means, come to me. Allow me to show you the fruits of my labor. Perhaps, when you partake in their glitz and glamor, you will understand why I have done what I have. Or perhaps not. Maybe you will find an underlying bitterness to their saccharine taste. Either way, come to me. Allow me to hold you one last time as the man you’ve known since our youth, before you meet the one I have become. 

As it has been since our youth- as it shall always be- my heart is forfeit to you, O. I await your reply with bated breath. 

Yours with Fervor,

EF

Orlando's Response:

My Cherished E,

I wrote my last missive to you in a bout of sorrow and anger. I was upset. It was a hastily written, ill thought out rambling that should not have made it past the privacy of my diary.

E, what knowledge could you impart unto me that would so vastly alter my feelings for you? Even so, I will accept what you have to say. I will come to you in Baldur’s Gate, post haste. I can wait no longer. Too many years we have spent apart. It feels as if ages of the world have fallen away while we have sat idle. My heart yearns for yours. The sea bore me away from you. It is the sea that will carry me back. Share with me the strife you have faced in my absence. Share with me the secrets that weigh heaviest on your mind. I will listen with patience. 

In a tenday, wait for me upon the docks. I will appear to you there, by the light of the stars, and you can make me yours. For however long that might be. One night or forever, I don’t care. I simply cannot live this way anymore. 

Yours Eternally,

OM

Gortash’s Response:

My Abyssal Angel,

You need not apologize for voicing your concerns. In fact, I find your combativeness refreshing. A stark change from the Devil’s Dutiful Daughter act you once put on for that oaf, Raphael. You have changed, blossomed in your years since our captivity. We’ve both grown so very much.

I look forward to seeing more of that fire in you when you arrive in Baldur’s Gate. You have embers in you, O. Unleash them. Let them blaze as bright as I know they can. I can feel them straining against the confines of your lungs. Breathe your fire, my darling. Set the world alight with me.

We are not tools. We are not pawns or playthings or trinkets to display. As I said before, you will always have a place at my side, a part to play in my work. Soon you will see what part that is. And soon, you will be by my side. For good, if that is what you should want. Our union would be good not only for the two of us, but for the world.

I know you do not keep up with news in Baldur’s Gate, but I know you are aware that I have been rising in the ranks these last several years (hence the secrecy). I now have every reason to believe that I will be crowned Archduke soon enough. I should like it if you are there for my coronation. Date, to be determined. It may be a few weeks, yet. If you can stay in Baldur’s Gate that long, I can promise you a most thrilling visit.

But enough shop talk. All will be illuminated once you arrive. Hopefully, by then, I’ll be more than I am now.

With Adoration,

EF

P.S. I have come to understand that the throne in the audience chamber of Wyrm’s Rock is padded. My imagination runs rampant, my darling. Already I can feel the lick of your newfound flame on my lips…

[ass-deep-in-demons]

I love Domhall Gleeson so much, you have no idea!!! 😱😍😭❤️ I was already super interested in your wonderfully conceived Derufin before, and now I'm even more determined to bring him into my AU with a significant role! With your permission, of course!

I know he's technically canon, but the character is one of those blank slates that makes him practically an OC (in my view, anyway). When you have the time, could you please give me an info dump of everything you've created for him, as much as you are comfortable sharing? If you don't mind! :)

And speaking of fancasting, is his father Duinhir played by Brendan Gleeson by any chance? 😂

PS. Have fun with BG3! I haven't played it myself, but my sister spent a solid amount of time being lost to that game too. So I understand the fixation. 😂

Thank you so much for sending this ask @sotwk! And thank you for your infinite patience, unfortunately my new job has been hectic so I've had to delay forming a replay, but HERE WE GO!

The second I read your idea about Brendan Gleeson being Duinhir it immediately became my canon also <3.

There are some things about the Derufin/Morwen/Boromir triangle that I've cut out from Under Our Darkening Skies.

"When Lady Morwen had first arrived in Minas Tirith, she had wasted no time to approach Boromir and subtly prodded him on his designs regarding marriage. He was, after all, the most sought after bachelor in Gondor. A bachelor still, in his late thirties, to his father’s eternal chagrin. In response, the Steward’s Heir equally gently had let slip that he had not been planning to take a wife, and she had quickly pranced off to the greener pastures that the City offered."

Because of Morwen initially setting her sights on Boromir (I mean duh), Derufin is still to this day reluctant to make his feelings for her known. He thinks Morwen still prefers Boromir. In reality Morwen's making a pass on Boromir back then had been dictated more by her youthful ambition than any real feelings for him or even any genuine regard. So, Derufin, grow a pair and just ask her out already!!!

Some more trivia:

Derufin's older brother Duilin is prone to brooding and melancholy while Derufin is the funny, carefree one.

Derufin's love for Lady Morwen is rivalled only by his love for his finely made and custom-decorated yew longbow - a gift from Lord Steward given for Derufin's knighting. He has, of course, named the bow after the Lady. Boromir groans loudly whenever he's reminded of it. Derufin is so so so cringe about his bow but also INSANELY good at archery.

Derufin is one of the few people who know about Boromir's fling with the Archivist. He found out accidentally (and has been wishing to erase the image from his brain ever since).

Derufin is actually not the only member of Boromir and Faramir's friend group from their youth. The "pack", aside from Boromir, Faramir, Derufin and Duilin, also included Hirluin the Fair (nicknamed Pretty Boy by Derufin). Faramir befriended Hirluin when he squired in under Hador, the Lord of Pinnath Gelin. Hirluin (who has as of 3018 TE succeeded his late father) is a ladies man and a party animal, so his friendship with Faramir is an unlikely one. However, their bond is strong because of the shared memories from their youth.

I dread what will become of these babies during the Battle of Pelennor. Just know that I am out od my mind and I can promise nothing :D