#as well as the durge break up

[snowyarcher]

Thinking about the Astarion break up before his quest is finished in Act 3

All was well in the relationship, so naturally, I expected some objection from him at the news. Instead, true to his character, Astarion had come prepared for the break up with some pretty heartbreaking lines.

Not at all questioning the player's decision, Astarion sounds... defeated. He speaks about "midnight chimes" with a bittersweet smile. He reasons that he doesn't have much to offer except trouble and burdens. He can hardly blame us for breaking up with him. He was counting down the moments till the inevitable end.

Yet, this is the first time in 200 years that he has been taken care of, heard and seen. He isn't going to let us go, even if he knows it will end eventually. So, he won't ever initiate the break up. In fact, Astarion won't ever initiate anything. At this point he will accept any decision made by us without defending the relationship, because to him this is no ordinary relationship.

What is it then, if not a relationship?

"Whatever in the world could you be?"

In a way, we are the dream that holds power over him, where Cazador was the nightmare. Tav is like the sun, at the centre of his chaos. His happiness, his freedom, his vengeance and his catharsis orbit around the player. And in his good ending, Astarion flourishes.

He really is the ultimate "I can fix him" or "I can make him way worse" fantasy.

[alicelufenia]

FINALLY

Now I may actually finish the game lol

... wait that was a bug? Welp, time to update my guide posts instead of continuing into act 3 hahahehehh... *kill me*

[unreadpoppy]

can someone tell Larian that if it's not broke, DON'T FIX IT

[arkhavens2]

im having a lot of fun with my current durge playthrough that im affectionately calling "how evil can i be while keeping as many companions for as long as possible?" and the answer is: 1-none of my party members have left even in act 3, AND! i recruited jaheira even after murdering isobel—and thus, all of last light inn—in cold blood:D

this is the face of a maniac(affectionate)

[autistichalsin]

Analysis of each character's final words in the new Dark Urge evil ending

If you are romanced to a character, you have the option, when taking the new version of the Sins of the Father ending, to kill your partner in front of the others in your party, killing them with one last kiss. They then give their last words and pass away. I love each and every one and feel they are incredible characterization moments.

So let's break these down!

Lae'zel:

I... I am glad it was you. No other blade would have sufficed.

This is something that hammers home that, Vlaakith or no, Lae'zel deeply believes in all the ideals of a Githyanki. Life is a privilege for the strong, and death is the price of weakness. Further, if romanced, Lae'zel will affectionately call you "the source of my bruises" many times. If she has to die, if she has finally found the one person stronger than herself, then she is "satisfied" that it is you- who she both loved and admired. The only one she would ever consider worthy of besting her.

Karlach:

Fuck you.

Short, simple, and to the point, just the way Karlach does everything else. She's already gone through all her stages of grief with her engine- well, almost all of them. Anger still remains. She burns hot until the end.

Wyll:

I... I forgive you.

This isn't just Wyll being a good guy. This is heartbreak, and guilt. Guilt for not saving you from Bhaal's influence when he was so sure he had. Heartbreak that after he gave his literal soul to save as many people as he could, he couldn't save you- and couldn't save others from you, either. All he sacrificed, negated in an instant by the person he loved and trusted most. Of all the characters here, Wyll (tied with Halsin) sounds the most obviously broken, and it's easy to see why, given that he is self-sacrificing to a fault.

There was a set of scenes datamined from the game, where at the Morphic Pool, the Netherbrain would have taunted the players, causing them to hallucinate things related to their fears and insecurities. Wyll's would have been a vision of himself talking about how he was never a hero, how the Blade of Frontiers was a farce all along. One can't help but think about that scene here, wondering just how much blame, bordering on self-loathing, he might feel here.

Dark Justiciar Shadowheart:

I... I'm coming to you, Lady Shar.

Another short and simple one. By becoming a Dark Justiciar, Shadowheart has fully embraced the nihilism of Shar's teachings. Why be saddened or angry at her own death when this is just what she's embraced with all her sacrifices?

(Sidenote: this does also answer a question I had, namely, what was going to happen to everyone Durge kills. Thankfully it seems they aren't actually going to be sacrificed to him as such, and will indeed end up in the realm of their deities. This makes Bhaal's plan even DUMBER, because deities in DND lore need worshippers to have enough power to exist. Killing everyone at once just guarantees that soon after Durge dies as the last person alive, so too will Bhaal fade from existence.)

Selunite Shadowheart:

I... I thought we were going to save each other...

This Shadowheart rejected everything she knew. She was scared to defy her goddess, but worked up the courage- thanks to you. She thought you would have a new life together. She believed in you. She thought she would get to return the favor, and help you turn the page on Bhaal, too.

She's not just heartbroken for herself; she's heartbroken for you, too. Heartbroken at the life you denied both her and yourself.

Gale:

You made me want to live...

From the moment the orb entered Gale's chest, he knew he was at risk of dying. Then Mystra all but marked him as a dead man walking. But despite that, he finds love with you- and for the first time thinks maybe there is a purpose for him beyond Mystra. That he isn't more useful to the world dead. More than that, he wants to live to be with you, to enjoy your company and companionship. And then you kill him, and do the one thing WORSE than what would have happened if he'd never been pulled from that rock.

It almost would have been kinder to just hack his hand off the first time you met him, though Gale may or may not agree.

Spawn Astarion:

I should have killed you when I had the chance...

The angriest, most bitter response out of all the romanced companions, a step beyond Karlach's "fuck you." This is beyond "fuck you" and even beyond "I hate you." It's "I regret every moment I spent with you." You made him believe he could have better. That he could recover from what Cazador did. You even convinced him to spare the 7,000 spawn and that he could be something better than Cazador.

And now you reveal it was all a lie. Astarion is probably thinking that you talked him out of completing the ritual solely so he'd be easier to kill right here and now. How many regrets are flashing through his mind, how many moments where he wonders if things could have been different if only he'd done this or that, even aside from killing you?

All he wanted was to live as a free person. And then the first time he thinks he has that at last, he loses it as the world ends.

Ascended Astarion:

No... no, this can't be... I can't- you can't- no...

In contrast to spawn Astarion, ascended isn't angry, because he doesn't have the clarity, the ability to process what's happening. Spawn Astarion could tell he'd been betrayed.

But Ascended? Ascended, who went through so much to become one of the most powerful beings in the world, only to STILL lose without fanfare? And by you, his own spawn who he thought he had under his control? It isn't betrayal, because he is bluescreening; he can't comprehend what happened or how or why. How could he have been killed, and by you of all people? Was all he went through killing Cazador really for nothing? How could it be when he was supposed to be the most powerful? Was power actually meaningless all along?

He doesn't say anything of substance because he can't understand what's happening here.

Halsin:

Thaniel... goodbye...

Halsin is the oldest of all the companions. He's experienced the most loss of anyone; his birth family, his fellow Druids, and, for a time, Thaniel. He has had more than enough time to contemplate his own mortality, because he's already lived multiple lifetimes.

So here, two things are happening. One, he isn't expressing anger or betrayal at his murder- because he is more than wise enough, and humble enough, to understand that there are worse things than what has been done to himself. Instead of himself, he is thinking of the world he's leaving behind that is about to fall- and most of all, of his most important person, the one who gave him a purpose, who was there when no one else was, who he failed once and only just got back. The closest thing to a child he'll ever have. In his last moments, instead of himself, Halsin is thinking of those he loves.

And second, it's an almost deliberate snubbing of Durge. He willingly walked into that kiss, knowing full well it would be the last thing he ever did. He gave you his death, he pleaded with his own god to forgive you and him both. He gave you everything he felt he owed you, and no more- no begging or sobbing. Instead, he comes as close as he ever gets to selfishness, and spends his last moments thinking about the thing that makes him the happiest- which could have been you, in another life, if you hadn't done this.

Minthara:

No... we were meant to do this together...

Heartbreak, disbelief, and betrayal. You spent so many nights planning this out. She had been cast aside by her people, her goddess, and she was going to get the last laugh. She was going to crush them personally under her heel and prove she was the best (or second best, behind you) of all of them. She's devastated she won't get to help you torture all those souls and take what she feels was owed to her. But interestingly enough... no anger. Probably because it was overshadowed by the sheer heartbreak, but also a sign that even in those moments, she still admires you for your ruthlessness.

[preciouslittle-bhaalbabe]

I feel like Astarion has a bit of delayed reactions to things. Which makes complete sense. He needs time to process he even says this the first night we meet him. Of course that could also serve as a cover up for needing to hunt but he did just go through ALOT of shit in a short amount of time. Of course that needs to be processed. All this to say if you're playing Durge and resist Bhaal I think it would take a few days for him to realise what happened. He lost you. If only for a moment he lost the only person he has ever cared for. He lost everything.

And then poof! You're back and everythings fine! But it's not. He watched you die. He stood helplessly while a god deemed his person unworthy to exist and snuffed them out like they were nothing. So this is how I imagine his reaction would be after a few days.

It's a short read. :3

You're settling in for the night at the elfsong. Lying down on the soft bed and staring up at the ceiling. For the first time in well...Ever, your mind is quiet. No urges. No agonizing thoughts. You're at peace. Even though the weight of the world and it's saving hasn't left your shoulders you feel confident that you can now do what is right. You're not just a pawn, some thing to be used by the gods then discarded. You can write your own future.

Something takes you out of your thoughts. You see a pale silhouette standing at the foot of your bed.

"Star?" You croak. Even after all this time you still aren't used to just how quiet he is.

"Sorry darling I- I just had to check something".

"Check for what?" You ask.

"I needed to make sure you're alive. That I didn't leave your corpse in that temple".

You hear his voice break slightly. He's terrified.

"Come here love". You invite him into bed so he can be with you. Feel your warm skin, hear your heartbeat.

He sinks down into the mattress with you. Head on your chest. You feel moisture on his face and realise he had been crying. He relaxes into you as you run your hands through his hair.

"I'm- I'm glad you're here darling".

"I'm here. I will always be here. Not even the gods themselves could take me from you".

[inkyquince]

Okay so maybe in just brain rotted... And I am BUT.

Love interests fucking GRABBING the dark urge for a kissy after the meeting with gortash. Man's turning up the rizz and flexing his stubble and eye bags and his anti-anxiety robe and his voice is low and seductive as he calls the durge an old *friend*.

Like, Karlach wouldn't even wait to be out of the room. Not even take a few steps away. Fully turn to you, grab you by the shoulders and fucking LIFT you up to plant a big smooch on you. Much to Gortash's bemusement and horror tbf. And the rest of the court's.

Gale would be more subtle, stepping close as you head towards the stairs and quickly press a kiss to your cheek with a soft smile. No way anyone would think it's a platonic look of adoration, even if his stomach is still twisting with the revelation that it was YOUR actions that led to this.

Astarion? Yeah, your conversation wouldn't have even ended before he's doing his slutty lil lean against you, resting his chin on your shoulder, still seemingly fully absorbed into the conversation. After it ends, he presses a kiss to your neck and idly follows after you, bemused by his own spark of annoyance at Gortash and his reaction to it. Mostly just exasperated by it though.

Wyll is filled with outrage for his father, for karlach and now for you. The implications seeped in Gortash's words and yet when you had joined up with the group, you had been left in the trash heaped, bloodied and stricken with amnesia. He's disgusted. So on the way out, he takes another look at his father and then slips his hands into yours. Raises it and gently kisses your knuckles on the way out. Even some of the court coo at the cute, gentlemanly gesture. Gortash looks mildly grossed out and Wyll takes that win, even with the prospect of meeting back up with Mizora in a few seconds.

Lae'zel would bare her teeth at him, smack his down and break his face in, if.... Well, if everything else wasn't going on right now, and it would upset the tin soldiers. So she settles for the next best thing, as resentment and possessiveness curl her tongue. Just gripping your waist and pulling you closer should do it. But she must add in a quick, harsh bite to your lower lip. Yknow, just in case.

Shadowheart? Gods, to make it clear, she's dying to press you against the wall and slide a thigh against your crotch, but yknow. Polite company. So instead she just slips her arm around yours, pulls you closer and whisper into your ear. Looks more salacious than it is, as she whispers that your past isn't who you are now and then drops a kiss to your earlobe. But it should to the trick.

Halsin isn't an envious creature. He really isn't. This man wouldn't care about your current other partners, so why should he care about past ones? Potential past parents, nonetheless. But, he'd never turn down the chance to pull his love close, especially in front of the man that caused all this trouble to begin with. Pull you close and tuck you into his side, maybe even kiss your temple.

Gortash? Gortash has missed his favourite assassin. He's waited for you, even with Orin hissing about your demise, and he never truly believed that such a piece of subpar, inbred Bhaalspawn could compare to you. The one who stole the Crown, the one who helped mastermind, the one who your father had chosen first. So what in the world was your little fan thinking? After a sweet, pleasant conversation, to start to paw at you? A fool no doubt. They might have gotten a few lovely weeks with you, but he had been with you for far longer, and he was finished waiting. No, he didn't see them being a problem.

[darkenedurge]

𝐁𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐞. (𝐎𝐧𝐞-𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭).

.

CONTENT : Blood Kink | P in V Sex (Fem Durge) | Violence, Violent Language | Durge being a freak, Gortash eating it right up | Pre-Tadpole Durge & Gortash

.

˚ ✧.

“If I didn’t love you so, I’d drown in your blood. It’d be pretty, I bet. I can see it.” She says, as she lays – naked, head upon his chest, pointed nail tracing his chest hair. Disturbing it, coercing it into haphazard patterns. She has a habit of this, accompanying tender, gentle movements with deranged words spoken in her pretty, pretty voice. It had never frightened Gortash. Surprised him perhaps, when she had first enlightened him toward the notion – she was rolling her hips into his, palms cupping his jaw with an uncharacteristic softness, completely unbefitting to her, and the tandem of her hips.

“I wish I could slit your throat, and drive my tongue across the slash. Taste you, in ways I haven’t before.”

A minx, he’d called her, with a shake of his head – a tut, and a huffed chuckle.

“I am no General Thorm, dearest,” Gortash replies, finally, his hand trailing down to her thigh – repositioning her. She whines. “Cut me too deep, and I will not be resurrected.”

Silence, for a moment.

And then, a compromise.

“Let me cut your tongue, slice it.. I want to sup the blood as it spills, as we kiss.”

There was always a breathiness to her voice, a shuddering undertone of unadulterated, unhinged, excitement. Carnal desire, urge. There’s a tremor, in the very tips of her fingers, as she grips the blade – like a vice, furthered well beyond its limits. Gortash pretends to consider, pretends to have his debate – internal, between yes, and no. He pretends, and pretends, before simply sticking out his tongue.

She grins, giggles, raises her blade. Her blade was always close, always near. Within arms length.

She then shifts, onto her knees – resting on her heels, eyes flickering with want. Need.

“Only a little cut,” She specifies, and she’s honest, “I don’t want to ruin you..”

A half-tease. Gortash raises a brow.

True to her word, she makes the slit – immediate in tangling her tongue with his, succumbing to the sickly, sweet taste of iron. Copper, intermingling with the heady aftertaste of wine on his tongue. On hers. They always drank, always fucked. Always talked, always kissed. Bled, burned.

The downfall of one another, the detonation to one another’s ticking time bomb.

“Incredible,” She gasps, breaking them from their saliva stricken embrace – a string of desaturated red still maintaining a shred of connection between them. “You’re incredible.”

Gortash shakes his head, pinning her beneath him in one push – a press of his hand, fingers curling around her crisscrossed wrists, burying her bones in the mattress beneath them. “You are the incredible one, my dearest, dearest pet.”

“I hate it when you call me that.” She lies, spreading her legs – sinfully wet.

He pries her apart, sheathes himself inside of her – the fluttering of her walls greeting his cock, accompanied by her hellish, flaming heat. Her constrictive tightness, mouth falling open with a wiggle and a squirm. “No you don’t,” Gortash replies, with a grunt of effort, as he fucks into her hard. Harsh. Abusive and abrasive.

She moans, upon each thrust, thighs tensing and untensing, only to tense again.

“Bleed me again,” Gortash pants out, gaze dark – voice, low. Despite its strain.

His grip upon her hip, with his free hand, is blissfully bruising. “Kiss me,” She demands, commands, pleads – all at once. “Kiss me, and I will.”

And so kiss her he does. She bites his lip, drawing blood –letting it dribble, down, down his stubbled chin. She drags her tongue, efficiently cleaning up the mess. Her mess.

Gortash finishes, inside of her, not long after. She’d squeezed his throat, their first time together, thumb pressed hard – “You fill me up. Everytime. Don’t waste your seed, lordling. Don’t go claiming anyone else. No, you’ve claimed me now.”

He’d lost count, this was perhaps their third time of the night. Fourth, fifth, even.

Though, she finally seems tired – small, curled in his arms, nestled against him. He knows she doesn’t sleep much. Doesn’t like to, doesn’t want to. She’ll be up again, in the midst of the night – naked, hands buried in some poor unfortunate’s innards. He’ll cling to the smell of her skin, imprinted on the linen sheets.

[eff-plays]

Idk if this is a hot take of any kind but I actually really like that Astarion's romance starts off in an unhealthy way and evolves. That's like ... the point? Ya know?

It's interesting. It adds layers and conflict. It allows for growth and evolution. And Larian have claimed multiple times that it was on purpose, that many video game romances have sex as the culmination while here, some characters will fuck you immediately but then what? What happens after? Sex isn't the reward, but part of the relationship. There is more beyond. But people think that there being stuff beyond sex means that that's the only value that exists, and that the sex adds nothing. But in Astarion's case, it's extremely important?

It's complicated. His relationship with sex is complicated. They did it on purpose. That's the point. So what if it's not "uwu soft trust me I don't want sex please let's just hold hands" from the start? He doesn't trust the PC from the start, so why the fuck would he agree to that? He doesn't know them at all. He needs to do things his way because he's not ready for anything else yet. And if you feel sad for him, that's fine, because it's meant to be sad? But to the point of it becoming anger at the people who wrote it? That's weird, man. Astarion isn't real, you're not hurting a real person, and he literally asks Tav for it? In my case, he asks them twice before they say yes. They're not forcing him into anything. The only time you can force him is after the Araj scene, and he immediately breaks up with you after. So he's clearly perfectly capable of ending things if they get too toxic.

I swom to Jon just romance someone else at that point. Idk if this is my romance writer brain talking but well-written, not contrived, and non-abusive conflict is actually rare and sometimes difficult to write, but IMO every good romance needs conflict. Because at the end of the day, it's also a story?

It's not perfect because it's not meant to be. It's meant to be a starting point to evolve from. Sometimes things can be unhealthy without being abusive or problematic TM.

Anyway. Yeah I like how fucked up it is. Because Astarion is fucked up. It makes it more real and more compelling. I made my Tav fucked up to match.

"Well my Tav wouldn't fall for it and would realize ...!" Roleplay harder. Clearly Tav/Durge aren't meant to pick up on his manipulations from the start, or overlook them, or fall for them. There's a bajillion different ways to justify it. If you can't see past your own meta knowledge, romance someone else.

But if you really want the relationship to start without sex then just write that fic? Why are you demanding that Larian caters to your specific tastes and sensibilities? They had a story to tell and they told it. You not liking it is neither a personal a slight against you nor their problem.

[katyusha454]

I think I've found the most tragic ship in BG3 and I need to rant about it

I've seen a decent number of people discuss and write about Dark Justiciar Shadowheart, but they always focus on what she's like post-game when she's fully committed to Shar. Which is a fine thing to focus on! Especially when you're writing smut where she's a mean domme. Post-game DJ Shadowheart is a fascinating character. But I feel like people neglect to consider what she's like during the transition phase of Act 3, where she's become Shar's Chosen but hasn't yet Done The Thing that caps off her personal questline. And there is SO MUCH potential for angst and drama during that time frame.

IMO the most important aspect of this stage of her development is that she is not evil yet. She simply made a single bad decision and now she feels like she's in too deep to do anything but double down on it. She's spent her whole life trying to "fake it 'till you make it" and she's only just now starting to transition out of that and into sincere belief. All the misgivings and insecurities she's shared with you are still there, just buried deeper. That desire to love others and do good hasn't yet been completely stamped out. In my Dark Justiciar Origin run, I try to do good things whenever possible as long as I can find a way to rationalize it as benefiting Shar. (but I still ended up saying enough evil-sounding things to make Minthara incredibly horny for me)

So where does Karlach fit in?

Well, turns out when you play as Origin Shadowheart, Shar doesn't make you break up with your partner. In fact, Shar says absolutely nothing to you about your romantic situation. This is really weird if you're romancing anyone other than Karlach, but I think it makes perfect sense for Shar to tolerate a relationship with Karlach for the time being. It's the ideal opportunity for Shar to prove a point. Karlach is dying, and no matter what Shadowheart does, this relationship is going to end in painful loss. Shar wants Shadowheart to fall in love with Karlach only to have that love abruptly ripped away from her. It perfectly demonstrates everything Shar believes about love: that it's fleeting and will always hurt you in the long run. Better to just avoid it entirely so you don't get hurt.

And Shadowheart knows all this. She's studied Sharran scripture extensively, after all. She knows that Shar is trying to teach her a lesson, she knows that the longer the relationship lasts and the more emotionally intimate it gets, the more the end is going to hurt. So why doesn't she break it off? Partly it's because she loves Karlach and doesn't want to end things; she's probably in denial at least a little bit. But I think it's also partly because she's a bit of a masochist. She thinks she deserves to suffer because she knows, at least subconsciously, that she's still not a very good Sharran. She can see the loss coming and she hopes the experience will bring her closer to Shar.

You'd think Karlach would be unwilling to put up with DJ Shadowheart's fanatical bullshit, but personally I think Karlach would stick it out for a whole mess of reasons. Number one, she can still see the good in Shadowheart and she refuses to give up on her partner. She's clinging tightly to the hope that Shadowheart can still be redeemed, even though she probably understands that it's a long shot at best.

Number two, she blames herself. When you play as Tav/Durge or another Origin, Shadowheart will have a conversation with you before deciding what to do in the Shadowfell. But if you play as Shadowheart, none of your companions says a word to you. In the context of this ship, I choose to interpret that as Karlach being too trusting. She's seen the good in Shadowheart, after all. She's so certain Shadowheart will do the right thing that she doesn't think she needs to speak up. It's not until too late that she realizes what Shadowheart needed was for someone to say "hey, are you sure about this?" So now she feels she needs to make up for that failure somehow by continuing to try and nudge Shadowheart in the right direction even though it seems impossible.

And number three, Karlach's just plain lonely. As fucked-up as this relationship is, she's still getting companionship and intimacy, and she doesn't think she has time to cultivate a new relationship if she breaks up with Shadowheart. She wants someone to be with her and hold her hand at the end, even if that someone is a brainwashed cultist.

In sum, both of them know that their relationship is extremely unhealthy; that it's hurting them now and will hurt them more in the future. But they both refuse to end it for their own reasons. And good gods, the ANGST. ARE YOU FEELING IT NOW, MISTER KRABS?

[daemon-in-my-head]

Good timezone fellow Durges, Durge Owners and Durgetash enjoyers. I hereby declare; yeah @aleksxo and I are actually gonna do that Bhaalspawn Championship bit, let's go

So, a bit of organisational stuff first:

THIS IS A 18+ EVENT. The game is officially 18+, and so is the community event for it. And well, considering we're throwing a bunch of cannibals into one tiny arena... Do be aware there's gonna be some 'spicy' topics (but no making out on the battlefield, that's what the lockers are for!)

Date: The event will start from August 5th onwards (so, a week after the Gortash week), the Discord Server and the Sign up however will open as soon as this post is published and will end on before then. That way we can set up matches and schedules in time.

Rules: The rulework used will be 5e and for the sake of fun and fair competition, some spells will be banned.

Place: The event will be hosted on a specifically created Discord Community Server and the matches themselves will take place in a VC, meaning; all Participants must be ready to use their voice aka talk while others may listen. Ofc, just spectators are welcome too. Otherwise what's the point of those pretty stages?

OCs: Custom Durges mandatory. No default Durges cuz it's hella immersion breaking. Please give him a moustache and a name if you want to play our fav white dragonboy.

Matchmaking: We aim to keep the Matchmaking as balanced and comfortable as possible, meaning participants of the same region and similar classes will be matched against each other where possible and all OCs will compete with lvl 20 stats, spells, spellslots, feats, yada yada. Depending on the amount of participants we may expand or decrease group sizes (we're literally gonna use Soccer championship rules for ranking).

Inexperienced TTRPG Players: will recieve support! We'll help ya figure stuff out and get ur character to work how u want.

Prizes: OC Art and an OC Oneshot provided to u by your hosts! (Unless...?)

Now for the work part of this thing: we're still headhunting! Specifically people that would like to assist us who are US based (Mods and DMs, cuz we're European and we like sleep actually). If there's any Europeans out here who wanna help tho... We're also looking for support there!

And last but not least, here's the Server link, the specific rules and announcements/orga updates will be posted there (here occasionally if its big stuff) and ofc the form to sign up is live there too!

As per usual, reblog, spread the word, the more the merrier and do feel free to drag ur friends along! If ya like, they'll even get to cheer you on as you fight for Daddy's attention!

Also here's the twitter version of the post if you'd like to spread the word... Cuz neither of the hosts has any presence there. A flaw in our brilliant plans I agree.

[pursuitseternal]

Smut Ask! 🥵🔥

14 with Ascended Astarion x f!Durge 🩸

🎨 by @comfortyart

“Where are your manners?”

Cross-posted as “Reprimand Me:” for “The Rogue You Were”

Ascended Astarion x Reader (f!Durge)

Smut Ask Prompts | Masterlist

CW: Blood, murder, hot Bhaalspawn shit, mouth play, sucking licking oral fixation, Dom Astarion, table sex, a lesson in manners

They had come quickly, a small force cloaked in shadow. Zealous remnants of the cults you had fought so hard to break. Bhaalists and Banites, cloaked in their auras of murder and reeking of death, snuck into your home, into the Palace.

You were preparing for dinner… overseeing the final touches to the latest gala your hallowed halls would host. Thankfully your silver was polished to a shine, the vases so bright, you could see every movement behind you as they crept in from the sewers, from the bowels of the city.

The biggest mistake about ambushing a Bhaalspawn in the dining room is that there are knives… everywhere. You grin, eyeing yourself in the reflection of the large vase, cool fingers curling around a dinner knife as you feel the metal heat and come to life in your hands.

Child of Murder. Bride of the Ascendant. Who would dare come to kill you? Who would dare attempt to threaten you in the seat of your power?

These idiots.

But then again, you enjoy your massacres like you enjoy fucking your Vampire mate.

Feral.

Quick

And bloody.

It's a torrent of blood, a shower of weapons you unleash on the assassins. Their death cries reverberate off the rafters. Their wild attempts to stab you, to take you down miss so magnificently, you smile. But you drink their hostility, bathe in their ire. They all fall preciously at your feet, a meal fit for a king—for the Ascendant and his Consort. By the time you’re through, there is only silence and the faint dripping of your enemies’s gore from the cream walls and gilded chandeliers. The floor is so covered with crimson, your dainty slippers squelch through it as you pull the dinner knives from their lifeless bodies and lick them clean.

The silver is cool on your tongue, the blood so deliciously warm yet. A hungry hum in your throat and you pick up another knife from a corpse and begin to clean that one in the same manner.

A smile turns your face as that warm, deep chuckle that sends shivers to your belly sounds from the door. Astarion leans against the doorpost, arms folded, eyes glinting with hunger. “Well… I was going to say you clean up nicely for dinner, my darling….” He tuts his tongue, chiding you, wagging a long and elegant finger even. “Naughty, naughty, my sweet. Someone needs a reprimand. You’ve made quite the filthy little mess, haven’t you?”

His darkened eyes scan the corpse pile, “And you didn’t even save any of the fun for me, pet. Where are your manners?” Gods, his tone is petulant and pouting, as if the massacre at his feet displeases him. You chuckle, for that growing bulge between his legs tells a decidedly different story.

Fingers lock like a vice around your wrist, pulling your knife-bearing hand to his eager pink tongue. One long, sinuous swipe licks the bloodied blade clean. “Mmm, delicious,” he purrs as he presses on the small of your back, drawing you close until your hips jut together. “When you’re all sullied and destroyed from your rampage, my darling, you know what that does to me…. You know I adore you, terribly.”

You give a low, blood-slicked laugh in your own sated throat. His hungry tongue laps down the hilt of the knife, brushing its warm, wet width over your fingers. He takes the knife from your hand and tosses it, its silver clattering somewhere in the distance. One by one, your filthy fingers are sucked in the warm wet of his mouth. That sinful tongue wriggles as he licks your hand clean, until he presses a smudging kiss on your knuckles, bending low before you in a mocking and elegant bow.

“I'll have to forgive you for being terribly rude, killing them all before I returned, at least you saved us plenty to eat.” Dexterous as ever, he makes quick work of your bodice, freeing your blood-spattered breasts. Warmer than the stick of your enemies on your skin, he turns his skilled tongue to lave your bosom, tracing the remnant spatters of your fight. “Ugh, I have to say, Bhaalist blood is one of my least favorite… acidic and muddy, polluted from bleeding so many others.”

You begin to throw him a pout, your hand gripping in his soft, silver curls as your yank him up, his tongue still hanging, lolling like a dog mid-lick.

“You seem to like my Bhaalist blood well enough… my lord…”

“That is completely different, my sweet,” he flashes you that rakish smirk that instantly floods your belly with searing need. “Yours is a vintage unlike any other… my first, my blood of choice,” he cranes against the hold you have on him to nip the skin of your throat, his breath washing down the hollow of it. “You see, I have manners, my dear. Since you’ve deprived me of the spurting blood of our enemies fresh from the kill, may I sup on all you have to offer?”

His voice is velvet command, a saccharine order that you are more than happy to obey. That murder-denched hand of yours, coated in the crimson spray drags its sticky fingers down the soft column of your neck. “You didn’t even say please…” you tut your tongue, coloring your lips crimson with a brush of fingers over your frown. “What a liar about manners…”

A growl, a bit playful with an edge of irritation, he narrows those ardent eyes at you. His breath down your throat, his lips crushing yours in a consuming kiss, and you are melting in his arms. Deep and husky, his voice rasps in your ear, that single sweet move tickles you: “Please.”

“Of course, my love,” you consent, angling your head for him to feast.

As he bites into your flesh and sucks your essence, you can’t help but ride the wave of bloodlust and victory that burns in your veins. You suck your fingers; messy, lewd pops between your lips make your love chuckle as he feeds. He can hear your tongue lapping on your own flesh, he can sense the satisfaction of the hunt as you consume from the remnants of your enemies.

Nothing could be more arousing than blood on your tongue, feasting on your spoils of battle as his lips suckle your neck. Well, perhaps one thing could enhance the taste of victory.

You draw yourself closer, his arms wrapping tightly around you, crushing you against the hard planes of his body. His breeches are softest buckskin, supple and tight, and your hand wanders up his thigh. Every line and cord of muscle presses into your palm, your touch tracking higher and higher… until you feel his cock jerk into your fingers. Astarion growls approval between his deafening swallows of your blood, and you can think of no better paradise.

It makes you burn… burn for more blood and lust. Urges overwhelm you, drives now incited by being so close to him… to smell his fragrance with every breath and savor the heat of his body through your dress. Your blinding urge is now very different than before; it is a debilitating craving for your Sire, lust for his chiseled, undulating, undead body. Your drive to dream in red with him, to pave your path in the blood of your foes and lick yourselves clean in the aftermath.

And so you both shall…

The bloom of his arousal bursts into your consciousness, your bond quivering with the taste of your own blood on his tongue. You see it as you feel it, the nails of his hands scraping their points up your thighs, the blood-sticky silk of your skirts rucking around your waist… “Precious little Bhaalspawn, hungry for blood,” his voice croons in your ear and floods your mind all at once. Your vision is clouded in red, the crimson of his eyes and the spatters of blood that cover your palace. “Or are you just… hungry?” He bends down to place a kiss on your neck, so gentle and adoring.

A gentle kiss before a rough fuck, you grin.

In a flash, he picks you up and slams your ass down on the dining table. China clatters and whatever elegant appointments had remained untouched from the invasion tumble down. Your body melts into his hard planes as he slots himself between your spreading, welcoming thighs. Hips grind, fingers yank you flush, dug deep into the curve of your ass. Gods, you can feel his cock, fully hard and throbbing with his heartbeat, nudging against your cunt. Swivel after tantalizing swivel, he humps you, dragging the sweet soft press of buckskin and his arousal back and forth over your mound.

“My my,” he croons, “you’re such a mess, all wet and dripping. Why, it’s positively everywhere.” Nails skate over flesh and fabric to where your sexes press together. He rends your small clothes, the silken gusset disintegrating with one forceful tear. And you in your impolite hunger return the favor. You find the latches of his breeches, pulling with all your might as the little brass buttons give way. Little metallic pings bounce on wood and porcelain as they land unseen.

His cock sings free, hard and flushed and demanding. Pre cum drips down your fingers as you stroke him, warm and sticky and almost as satisfying as blood. He bares his fangs in a blissed out smile, your touch eliciting a growl so deep and desirous, you’re sure the china sprawled on the table clatters again. With a roar from his throat, he sheathes himself to the hilt, mouth at your neck and hands clawed in your skin as he fucks you.

“Such improper manners, eating before everyone is served,” he chides you tauntingly as he slams into you again and again. “And look, you’ve got far worse than your elbows on the table,” a nice slap on your ass accompanies that jibe, hard enough to raise your soft flesh in the angry red shape of his hand. “Such unruly behavior for my consort… show me you know better,” he slows his pace, making you feel every inch of his length stretching you out, dragging inside you from leaking tip to deep rooted base. A hand grips at the back of your head, tangled in the blood-caked mess of your hair.

“Want me to fuck you? To seal your victory in blood? To reprimand you for such impolite behavior?” Crimson eyes roam your blushing face, glinting with hunger and alight with approval. Warm, smacking lips brush your ear. “Say please…”

It’s his turn to play the same games, and it makes your lips pout, your hips buck harder to try and coax him deeper. One of your hands splays back behind you, fisting into the table linens, bracing you as you try to grind desperately on anything you can get between your legs

“Ah, ah,” Astarion chides again, yanking back on your hair to make your gaze meet his. “Don’t be rude, pet. I won’t ask you again. Remember your manners…” his mouth travels to that sensitive spot near your ear, shivers and tingles racing down your spine as he rasps, “and say please…”

Moans tumble from your lips, the only sounds louder in the dining room are the clatters of china and silver on the table that shakes beneath you and the slap of his hips against your thighs as he fucks. It takes but a moment for him to drive you right to the edge, to the precipice of pleasure before he thrusts and stills inside you. “I haven’t heard the magic word yet, my darling,” he pants, his voice thick and sticky with blood and hunger.

Your walls flutter on his achingly hard cock, every muscle of your belly clenches with desperate need. Clenching your fangs, you curl your lips in a snarling smile. “Pleassssse.”

“Good girl,” he purrs, the praise instantly washes over you, balm to your bloodlust as he snaps his hips with abandon. The ferocity overwhelms you, your back now splayed on the table, porcelain and silver poke into your spine as he grabs your waist to keep you on the edge. Heat bursts, sticky sweet from inside your belly, a wash of arousal and pleasure as you scream for him.

Hard… deliberate… gasping… he fills you, warmth flooding our insides, painting them white as he pulses against your vice-gripping walls. His silver locks fall into his face with how zealously he’s worked to satisfy his hunger. A shaken breath from his smirking lips is your sweet reward.

And you are his reward, his prize for his exertions, his efforts to teach you your lesson in manners.

His ruinously handsome face twists into that smirk, the one that makes your walls flutter around his cock one more time as he still sits deep inside you. “And now, a polite Consort would say….” he taunts you, voice lilting and playful, a flourish of his wrist as he speaks to coax the words from your throat.

“Th-thank you…”

He gives you that grin—confident, powerful, and oh so full of shit—as he cups your blood-splattered cheek. “You’re quite welcome, my dear.”

[adaptacy]

Gale has me in a chokehold, I love his nerdy ass. If you're accepting requests, can I request some angst but then fluff with him? It may just be my own insecure self, but what if his fem Tav still felt insecure and not worthy of him after he spoke to Mystra? Like she tries to smile and nod, but she's actually worried he still has feelings for Mystra?

hiii! so i wanted to actually get to this part before writing for it so i could experience full context instead of just watching a yt vid (200 hrs in the game and i *just* got there... albeit it was with durge tav in an evil playthru (one of like 4 playthrus i've started cause i have no self control), but i got there nonetheless) so sorry for taking a while!! but here you go ^^

Word count: 2k

"Back on mortal soil once more," he exhales, eyes slightly narrowed in a tense discomfort. He doesn't meet your eye, and his lips part in a doubtful smile, as if he isn't sure whether he's awake or experiencing some sort of dream. He blinks, and meets your gaze, his smile dimming – you’re not sure if it’s the result of a forced calmness, or a natural relaxation in his muscles. “I can’t believe I saw her– after all this time,” he nearly chuckles the statement out, and you suppress a cringe, desperately scanning his features for reassurance before you allow yourself to grow unreasonably anxious.

But he seems caught in a state of wonder, his eyes bearing an uncommon light in them – perhaps due to the astral scenery he just returned from, or, more likely, it could be an emotional occurrence. Either way, it stings, and you hate the way your stomach churns, hanging onto what feels like a thinning thread. He’s grown closer and closer to rejecting her, every new discovery being one more small, but necessary, push away from his faith, from any lingering feelings of affection for the goddess. 

You couldn’t help but feel as though this was a setback. That, maybe, seeing her again, speaking with her again – maybe it reminded him of a time that you knew he missed. A time that, prior to your relationship with him and a few important facts he’d learned about her, he spoke so incredibly fondly of. He stays quiet, pondering the conversation, and you only feel your fearful anticipation growing more with his silence.

In an effort to break it, you muster up enough courage to speak. “A little intimidating,” you try to chuckle, but it only comes out as a painfully stressed hum, followed shortly by an intense urge to withdraw from the conversation, but you manage to override your anxiety’s desires. 

Gale does manage to chuckle, again, nearly effortlessly – especially compared to your own failed attempt. “Powerful, wasn’t it? Magical, just– entirely magical,” he practically swoons, and you force a smile, tearing your gaze away from him. He continues speaking, and usually you’d be keen on listening to his every word, but you can’t help but tune him out. Even so, you can still hear the excitement in his tone, despite refusing to pick up on the words. 

You’re not sure how long he continues for, though you know it ends, because you feel fingers on your chin, and he angles your head slightly back towards him, forcing your attention back to him. He’s wearing a frown now, and you blink, pulling your head away from his touch. “Sorry. Just – not feeling well.”

“Not feeling well? Damn it, I knew that meat platter was a foul idea. Tavern hardly held a shine, I’m hesitant to believe their appetizers were truly safe for consumption. We should return to camp.” He nods, lowering his hand and offering it to you, and although you feel bad for not disproving his assumptions, you take his hand and go along with the lie, walking back towards your camp. 

It isn’t a very long walk, which is most fortunate; you’re hardly eager to strike up conversation, and had it been any longer of a journey, you’re sure that Gale would question your silence. Eventually, you return, and the area is empty, save for the usual occupants that never really left camp. Everyone else was out either exploring the city, settling down for food, finding entertainment, or bargaining with merchants to pawn off the unnecessary equipment they’d picked up. 

Gale didn’t bother making a request or saying anything before immediately leading you to his tent, directing you to sit on one of the few cushions that littered the blue rug on the floor. You did as he asked, and he looked around the camp, focusing more on the area around Shadowheart’s tent, though his search for her was ultimately fruitless, so instead he knelt before you, the back of his hand pressing against your forehead. “Not particularly warm, certainly not alarmingly so – though I’m no medic, I do believe I’ve enough experience to deem you unafflicted by any fever. What are your symptoms?”

“Symptoms?” You repeat, and Gale squints, clicking his tongue.

“Mental fogginess,” he remarks, and you finally shake your head, looking off to the side.

“I’m not sick,” you confess, knowing that he’s bound to ask questions, but deciding you’d rather be honest than have him worry about your physical well-being. 

“Now, there’s no reason to hide it. I’m sure that even a divine being would have gotten some strand of illness from that – what was it? A space hamster? And a mighty undercooked one, at that. I’m merely glad you’re still conscious,” he teases, leaning forward and holding your chin, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead. 

You pull back, shaking your head once more. “I’m serious. I’m not sick. I just – I don’t know,” you sigh, scooting back and frowning. “It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it? All that stuff with Mystra?”

Gale eases back, reading your expression a second time to ensure you weren’t trying to deceive him. Once he’s sure, he lowers himself fully to his knees, and then grabs another cushion for himself to sit on. He thinks over your words, and ultimately nods. “Indeed. Rather unsettling. To now know that the weave I’ve had inside of me for so long is nothing more – and always has been nothing more – than a mystery to me, it’s… unsettling,” he repeats, bending a knee and placing his elbow on it, his thumb running over the hairs on his jaw. 

“She’s been lying to you,” you murmur, and Gale eyes you, his expression that of some internal conflict. A conflict you fear you may be losing, even if he’d never admit it to you.

“As sadistic as it may appear, she had her reasons. Reasons we may never grasp or understand, but reasons, I’m sure. It’s no matter. Granting my disease a name does little to change said disease – or the expectations that come along with it. If I please her, if I fulfill her request of me, I will be rid of it. Free. At last. Though her actions may seem tyrannical to most, you must understand that it is quite a generous offer she is granting me,” he explains, his head tilting as he watches your reaction, though you’re putting too much effort into disguising your true concerns for him to pick up on them.

“Are you going to give it to her?” You ask, silently pleading for a denial -- for a firm and unwavering ‘No.’

“Of course. I have to,” he chuckles nervously, and whatever hope may have been contained in your expression quickly fades, and you have to break eye contact with him. “My love, this may be my only means of safety. Of securing a future. Should I refuse her, my very life would be on the line. And the miracles that have kept this orb from rupturing thus far – Mystra’s miracles, might I add – I would be left completely without.” He reaches forward, taking a hold of your hands, and you begrudgingly look back at him. “How could I possibly deny the chance at a future with you? I would be a madman.”

His words ease you, even if the effect is incredibly slight. You squeeze his hands, and he squeezes back, his small smile brimming with hope. It’s a pleasant emotion to see him with – one that you haven’t truly seen before. The closest has been eagerness, such as the kind he displayed when you learned of, and eventually obtained, the very book that caused this meeting with his goddess. “What if she forgives you?” You whisper, your insecurity underlining every syllable, and if you weren’t so afraid, your shame would have surely manifested in the color on your cheeks. 

Gale pauses, his eyebrows pushing inward as he processes your words a few times over. “If she forgives me?”

“If she calls on you to be her chosen. If you give her the crown, and she excuses your disputes. I want a future with you too, I do. I just… fear a future haunted by her. I want you, exactly as you are.” You inhale, and it’s shaky, but it’s too late to turn back now. “If she forgives you, will you be at her beck and call?”

He smiles again, but it’s nearly a smile of pity. A smile that instills you with a pinch in your throat, daring you to cry. One of his hands slips out of yours, and for a moment, you believe that this is it – that he’ll confess his plans to return to her side, to embrace his faith once more, to leave you behind at the assurance of greener, holier, pastures. But instead, his hand tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, and then holds the right side of your face, his hold warm and comforting. “Once I am cured, once all of this is over – the only person I wish to be ‘chosen’ by is you. I confess that, had I not met you, the outcome may be different.”

Despite the small, mildly reassured smile on your face, and your leaning into his palm, you still contain some worry for the future. And so, against the understanding that you should know better than to wonder, you ask “Different how?”

He sighs, squeezing your hand again. “Before the tadpoles, before you, before any of this – I had always believed that I’d never be free of her influence. She occupied my mind much like our little larva pilots do now. To control the weave – to channel and embrace the weave is to embrace Mystra. Pieces of her, at least. Though it’s hard to feel a piece of her and not reflect on a time when I could feel all of her. Had I any choice in the matter, I would remove her completely from my life. But I am no man without my past, and even less of one without the magic that I have been so consistently entwined with. And yet, it’s with you that I feel unburdened by her expectations, by her authority and judgment.” Gale leans forward, and you do too, your forehead against his. His eyes close, and yours do as well, merely enjoying the closeness, and the gentleness in his tone, the comfort that his words bring. “With you I forget my goddess. I forget my past, I forget my flaws, I forget my mistakes. I have a purpose now. One beyond being a vessel. One beyond being a subservient lapdog for the will of a deity.”

When you open your eyes, you find Gale’s open as well, and he watches your lips, debating something. You grant him a moment to think, and he decides to act, pulling you a little closer for a chaste kiss, allowing it to linger before he pulls back once more, the curl of his lips more assured now.

“I would suffer at the hands of her fate a thousand times over if it meant finding you again in just one life. You, dearest, are the one who my heart worships. Even if I speak the tongue of the weave or spin her spells, I know what love truly is – unparalleled, earnest, generous love – because of you, and only you. Should Mystra find herself munificent enough to shell out a fragment of forgiveness for me, she will, quite quickly, understand I have no interest in being her compliant plaything anew. If Elminster is a case that instills any flavor of wariness, I do believe I’d be better off without such an expansive lifespan, and… intense enthrallment in cheese,” he chuckles, pulling a laugh from you as well. When that laugh trails off, he cuts it short with a kiss, this one lasting a little longer than the one prior. 

“Just us two, then? After all of this?” You ask when the kiss is broken, and he smirks, shrugging.

“Us two and my Tressym, of course. I promise that she’s much better company than a goddess.”

“Of course. I can certainly live with that."

[cats-obsessions]

Fellas, is it gay if you look out upon your nearest and dearest, forgotten accomplice's home whose name is sickeningly familiar and this song plays in your head?

Do you think Gortash stood on his balcony, not knowing why but drawn to stare at the abandoned building Durge called camp?

Anyways, the song triggers even if you haven't romanced anyone in your camp, and while of course it is totally up for interpretation, I'm interpreting it as durgetash. I mean, beyond the obvious urge to spill and potentially drink blood:

"I feel your breath upon my neck. A soft caress as cold as death […] Your blood like wine, I wanted in Oh darling, get me drunk and make me feel

Their memory is unclear, but the feeling isn't:

"I feel your heartbeat in my soul. Our futures bound, our bodies know."

What can't be remembered is still held within their body, and another version of that line changes to "our endings bound", which is only true of a few people- Durge can complete the game alone, but their ending is always shaped by their decisions surrounding Enver, the brain, and Bhaal.

Their endings are intertwined, they are each other's only equal, but Gortash's can only end one way (fight me, Larian)

"My only one, There's more to do, if we can only live. The clock won't stop and this is what we get".

Durge being hopeful to live, at least to finish what needs to be done- but some of their old guilt reflected in the prayer of forgiveness could be seen reflected here as well.

"It's not my fault I'm not to blame These ain't my sins I broke my chains"

Whether sins here refer to their sin of admiring the chosen of Bhaal or the sins of murder forced by their father's hand, they very much did and might have continued to break chains since being tadpoled. Paired with 'get me drunk and make me feel', it almost reads more like it isn't their fault they fell for him, he tempted them and gave them all they needed to feel, to be a person for the first time.

Full lyrics below. There's so much more you could pull from it (And yes, I know this will also trigger if you play as Tav, but it has such a unique flavor for Durge)

---------------

I feel your breath upon my neck A soft caress as cold as death (cold as death) I didn't know you well back then I blame it all on luck and vain (luck and vain) Your blood like wine, I wanted in Oh darling, get me drunk and make me feel

It's not my fault I'm not to blame These ain't my sins I broke my chains There's more to do And I still want to live (live)

I feel your breath upon my neck A soft caress as cold as death (cold as death) I feel your heartbeat in my soul Our futures bound, our bodies know (bodies know) Your blood like wine, I wanted in Oh darling get me drunk, invite me in

It's not my fault I'm not to blame Thesе ain't my sins I broke my chains There's morе to do If I can only live (live)

I can't go yet Don't let me die I'll never stop Until I'm done But just tonight Maybe I'll rest in peace

I feel your breath upon my neck A soft caress as cold as death (cold as death) I hear your heartbeat in my soul Our endings bound, our bodies know

I can't go yet Don't let me die I want to live My only one There's more to do, if we can only live The clock won't stop and this is what we get

[parvulous-writings]

no idea if nail polish exists in the 5e world, but it does now. how about a chill day for the companions where everyone does their nails? or is tav/durge doing the painting for everyone?

Summary: Camp has a nail day!

Warnings: Minor spoilers for Shadowheart's various arcs, same for Karlach. One swear word.

Notes:  if it doesn't exist, it sure as hell does now! Also apologies that this took so long - New year is a busy time at work, and I've got a minor injury with my hand, so I'm working as fast as I can, but it's a little slower than normal!

I've included all the recruitable companions, besides Minthara, who is not included purely because I cannot accurately write for her just yet!

My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!  Original character list - please request for these too!

Not my image

Time on the road where everyone is able to relax is very scarce commodity, so when it does crop up, you're always the first to suggest grabbing it by the horns and making the most out of the day - not by training, or planning your next moves, but typically with something more laid back.

You're camping close to Rivington when you get the first day-long break in weeks, so that morning you venture into town to have a quick browse of the stalls; perhaps you can find some food that will remind the various Baldurians in camp of their home? As you're starting to make your way back to camp, something catches you eye - a nail polish kit, going for quite cheap. You can hardly restrain yourself from buying it- you already know that it will bring a lot of much needed joy into camp.

Astarion is quite intrigued when you announce the spoils you've returned with. For too long he's craved petty vanity again; and even if he can only get it from painting his nails, he's willing to grasp at that chance. "What's this?" He hums, peering over your shoulder, trying to get a good look at all the colours that the kit contains, as well as the equipment. The first thing he does, given the chance, is start tending to his nails - cleaning under them, pushing back the cuticles, trimming and filing them into shape, the works. He spares no time making sure that everything is as he envisions. Sure, the colours he eventually settles on may not match the rest of his armour, but his new manicure matches his more comfortable clothes, so that's good enough for him.

Gale is... Unsure if this is the right kind of thing for your journey. "We have many more pressing matters to worry about, besides our appearances." He practically grumbles to you. "Might I suggest actually focusing on planning our next move?" It doesn't actually take a lot to convince him to sit down and let him do one hand of nails on him. You paint his nails a lovely shade of dark navy blue, which looks black in the shade, but blue when hit by light. You start speckling dots of white here and there to make them mirror the night sky, when Gale tells you he'd like to do his other hand himself. Of course, you let him, and about twenty minutes later, he's back to proudly show you his work. It's a lot shakier than the side you had done, but he looks so proud of himself for being able to emulate your skill even a little bit, you don't even nitpick in a teasing way. When it inevitably starts to chip away, he's absolutely devastated, but doesn't say anything until you all get an opportunity to rest properly again.

Justiciar!Shadowheart instantly dives for the black varnish. Nothing more, and nothing else. She doesn't dwell on it, but in some vain way, she feels like she's carrying a part of her goddess' revered darkness with her, even if it will chip away eventually. That just reminds her that everything on this plane is fleeting, and finite, always eventually consumed by loss. Selunite!Shadowheart adds a little more colour to her nails - dots of white, or purple are incorporated, intricate little designs that pay homeage to both her life as a Sharran, and her family heritage as Selunites. She takes great pride in the designs she makes, and often spends a very long time making sure that they are just like how she imagines in her head.

Lae'zel doesn't particularly like painting her nails - she feels it takes away from her aura of formidable warrior. She will, however, sharpen her nails on a regular basis - just as a back-up plan if she loses her weapon, or perhaps gets caught by surprise and needs to scratch out some eyeballs.

Karlach pre-upgrade loves to watch you do your nails. As in, she will actively sulk if you don't let her watch, or have some tiny level of input. She'll huff and pout, but eventually goes to sit elsewhere with a quiet "fine, whatever.." Post-upgrade Karlach is so eager to have her nails done, she's bouncing back and forth on her feet. She can't decide on a single colours - especially not by herself. "They all look so pretty!" She exclaims, waving her hands about in glee. So, unable to make a decision, she takes her favourite colours, and has all of them on her fingers - repeating a similar process on her toes with her second favourite colours. "This is the best thing we have ever done! ... Besides beating the shit out of Thorm... so, the second best thing!"

Wyll tidies his nails - similar to Astarion. He wants them to be a much nicer shape than they have been up to this point - makeshift files had not been too kind on his nails, and he was tired of catching them on things. He takes great care in shaping them and removing any chips or quicks - it's an activity he takes great pride in, and he'll happily do the same for you if you ask him to! As for colour, Wyll likes to go for a clear coat, purely for protecting his nails; though he has been known to paint his nails black, for dramatic effect. He loves his nails - not to the point that he preens them at any given moment, but enough to give them the time and care they need to keep healthy.

Halsin doesn't particularly like the idea of polish. Sure, it looks pretty, but he'd rather not wear it himself - there are other ways, he's found, that you can change the colour of your nails. (When you ask him what he means, or even to just elaborate a little bit more on how he knows this, he simply replies with "I once had a... Somewhat rebellious streak in my youth.") So it's likely that the only thing that he uses in this particular kit is the file and buffer - which looks absolutely tiny in his hands, it's quite funny.

Minsc doesn't do his own nails - at all. He won't even file them, he just either bites them or they snap off (usually it's the former). Instead, he takes care of Boo's claws. "Now, now, my friend. Do not call me strange - if I do not care for Boo's mighty claws, then who will? The paws of justice must be well cared for!" Insists that every few days he must re-file and re-buff Boo's nails, and will not take no for an answer. He also tries to convince you that Boo is trying to tell you the same, but by the way the little rodent's head shakes when he sits on Minsc's shoulder tells you otherwise.

Jaheira almost laughs when you suggest doing her nails. She wants to them herself, but, eventually she does ask you to help her. "It seems I'm a little out of practice.." She chuckles. "Perhaps some company wouldn't be so bad... If your offer still stands, of course." She LOVES having green nails. Sage green is her favourite, but she likes all of them really. Sometimes, if she's feeling particularly happy, she'll let you paint little golden leaves on her thumb - but that can be a rare occasion, because she doesn't want such skill to always go to waste.

[inkyquince]

The idea of Gortash and Astarion being in love with the Durge at the same time is so interesting to me. Because their both fundamentally in love with two different people. Pre-tadpole, Gortash fell for a Durge who was a slave to their urges. Astarion fell for a Durge whos regained autonomy over their mind and now has the ability to choose who they want to be.

This may be a hot take, but idc.

I feel like... From reading everything in game about Gortash and meeting him? He would be so into a redeemed Durge. Like, yeah, slight downside of their morals being a smidge too light now, but oh well.

Dark Urge had gotten free of Bhaal. The one actual barrier between them and also fully going into their plan. Remember, Durge apologised to their father for being so FOND of Gortash, they promised that they'll kill the other Chosen in Bhaal's name, etc. The one controlling all their moves? Their Father.

And they either are/want to be free of him.

Fuck, he's hard. They're so fucking strong and stubborn and perfect.

He uses guile, he uses charisma, he uses everything to get a leg up. He used his body, his joined a gang, all while younger. Now he's here. Nothing he respects more than gaining power and influence without being controlled, if his time in the House of Hope taught him anything, it's that being controlled will lead to being beaten and used and discarded.

Control is what made the Dark Urge so fucking endeared to him in the first place. They're not a mad dog, like Orin. They loose control some times but LOOK at the acts you just played through. They have SO much fucking control compared to what their urges want them to do. Gortash values control so fucking much.

But, just like Gortash, Astarion will fall in love with the Dark Urge, redeemed or not. Even if he remains a spawn, he's so soft with them. He will stay until he can't watch them loose their mind anymore. But ascended? He wants them in his lap, naked and rabid and far gone. He loves them, even as nothing better than a feral dog.

Like.... I think Astarion and Lae'zel and Shadowheart are the ones who will fully love the un-redeemed Dark Urge. Gale, as we can see after the Tiefling Massacre, will stick by you but he fucking HATES your ass for what you put him through. Wyll and Karlach leave. Even if you don't pick the nasty sides in the game, when Dark Urge gives into their... well, urges, they're horrified. Astarion, Lae'zel and Shadowheart, while not ECSTATIC are less incensed about the shit you do. Hell, when you take Bhaal's offer, everyone in the party basically... Says goodbye to the person they loved, EXCEPT Astarion. Even if you break up with him, he says that 1000 years from now, when he's forgotten how to open himself up to people, he shall spare a thought for his little lost mad love.

The fact is, Gortash and Astarion will love the Urge, just in different ways, Redeemed or Not. Hell, if the Dark Urge goes feral, Gortash will still love them properly, I feel. Ascended Astarion, like a normal Tav, will love them as a pet. For the romance of ruling by your side, to bond in blood, to adore you bringing sacrifices to his door like a cat with their prey, Gortash is the dark romance love interest you want.