#dammons got their backs always <3

[primacuey]

I was daydreaming about them

new style i wanted toooooo tryyyyy

[lynnlovesthestars]

Could I request headcanons for Harleep, Astarion, Gale, Wyll, Halsin, Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor with kind and patient gn s/o? This is quite self-indulgent of me because I have been told I'm too nice & so patient so I'm curious how they would react XD

first of all sorry for being so late, but my small brain has to process things multiple times to make sense, so i wrote this like... 5 times? So it takes me a while, but i hope that waiting was worth it.

Also i saw you sent a second ask to see if i recieved this one, so ill put dammon and rolan there cause this is starting to get a bit long:3<3 thank you so much for your patience!:3

Taglist: @sessils @spacebarbarianweird

Headcanon: BG3 men with kind and patient s/o. (pt. 1)

Zevlor:

Zevlor is emotionally a wreck already, he considers kindness a virtue and it definitely makes him swoon when he notices you put extra care in making sure he's treated with kindness. At the end of the day, he basically got bullied on all fronts when all he really wants is to prove himself worthy of the title he carried for so long.

Zevlor has a short temper too, and he appreciates so much your effort and patience in dealing with his outbursts, whether they are of rage- not towards you of course- or of sadness, you offer always a shoulder for him and he cherishes it so much.

He is lowkey jealous when he notices that your kindness is not mostly exclusive to him, he has learned that people can abuse one's patience and care, and 1. he doesn't want you to get hurt, 2. he wishes your kindness was maybe reserved to him. Call him selfish, but after being deprived of it for so long, he is hesitant to let go of it.

Astarion:

Initially he would be very wary, in his experience being nice always lead to him getting hurt, so why would he trust someone who's default reply is kindness? At the end of the day the last time someone was '''''kind''''' to him, he was turned in a vampire spawn, so he takes it extra slow, he has just regained control over himself, he won't blindly accept kindness. He's lowkey afraid you are just part of a bigger scheme that will bite him in the ass and leave him shackled and caged again.

Once he gets accustomed to your kindness and finally accepts it, he revels in the kindness you offer and your patience, especially the smallest gestures like opening a door for him. He will literally melt for it, he's already smitten, your kindness leaves him like mush in your hands.

Nevetheless every good side, comes with a negative one. He is dead afraid your kindness will bring you to get hurt. He often reminds you to be weary and keep all your kindness for people you trust (HIM), rather than going around and helping every lost soul that asks for help. He will fight you on this a few times- especially if you do get hurt or it is obvious you are about to- he will not bite his tongue and keep it for himself, and that's one of the moments when he's glad you are patient.

You understand where it comes from and you try your best to find a solution that would make both happy. Your patience of course doesn't stop there, he knows he's an handful: he carries an heavy trauma baggage and he has a feisty personality, yet you always show him you don't mind, that you are there for him and that he can take all the time of the universe to sort his problems out.

Wyll:

Wyll would find it so endearing, how you are ready to go to someone's aid, you stop on your tracks to support someone in need, and he would love seeing you being kind to everyone. It's probably one of the reasons why he falls in love with you. Unlike Astarion he encourages you to be kind to everyone, cause he considers it a virtue, he incourages you to be the best version of yourself, and he reminds you that if you do get hurt, he will be there to pick up the pieces.

As far as patience goes, he's grateful to the moon and back, he knows he is an handful, especially if he doesn't break his pact with Mizora and has to leave more times than ever. He makes sure once he's back though that he makes up for lost time, whether it is with gifts or by taking care of you.

Haarlep:

Harleep is so used to Raphael that honestly he's taken aback at first, living in the hells means that kindness is hard to come by and around Raphael? It's either a trick or a miracle, so he brushes it off, not repelled like Astarion would, but definitely not eager like Wyll either.. he would be probably the one that takes it as it is, just.. that. But when he gets used to it? He becomes unsufferable. So unsufferable that he goes around demanding Raphael to be treated with kindness and patience! He purrs whenever you are nice even the smallest, thanking you and praising you like a goddess. He even tries to be nice himself- to you only- and despite it has to be and effort, since he has never been exposed to much kindness, he does become a little more mindful, even asking before taking your form or just with small acts of services.

One time Rapahel makes sure to send a message to you through him. "Tav, Raphael asked you stop being nice to me, cause if i demand it from him as well, he's going to turn me into fertilizer", message delivered with a pout that begs exactly the opposite.

Harleep is another that is deeply afraid of your kindness. Let's be real, you can defend yourself as much as you want, but people tend to use people and your kindness is one of those characteristics evil people would pry on- he knows well since its literally part of what he does, and a facet of what Raphael does as well. He probably scolds you a lot for this reason, he does it in a sweet way- don't get me wrong- he sugarcoats the shit out of it, but he will let you know when you are about to get in peril or you are too careless with your kindness.

Gale:

Gale is touched by your kindness, already from the first days after meeting him.

You had helped him out of his blotched portal, you fed him artifacts, you didn't question his secrets or push him to reveal anything, and he doesn't give that for granted. Once he's closer to you, and he learns that you are unconditionally kind to everyone, he's scared.

He starts warning you to be a little less nice, to use your judgement before you blindly trust a stranger, but he doesn't push it past a warning. As much as he wants to protect you, he doesn't want to take away your chance to grow from your errors.

In matter of your patience he's so grateful, he spends days thanking you when he's still afflicted with the orb condition, he cooks as a form of apology or thanks depending what he did, he gets baths started for you, he's treating you as a queen/ king. He alread would do it, but with you? He's even more protective, he almost feels like he has to match your kindness and patience with as much attentions he can muster.

Halsin:

Halsin is a fair man you think he wishes everyone was kind, but he actually wants you to be fair, he wants you to be mindful of who you give kindness to, he wants you to be a reasonable judge rather than unconditionally nice cause it is the way of the nature as well. Nature is not only nurturing and lush, it's also the poisonous vipers and herbs.

Does he appreciate when you are kind? Absolutely, he thinks it's the best gift Silvanus has ever bestowed him, but it doesn't take away the fact that he wants you to be treated kindly as well, so the moment someone crosses the line and starts abusing your kindness or becomes rude, he's definitely stepping in to s h a m e the other person. "You are lucky you have met Tav, cause they are kind, but nature wouldn't be so understanding and patient" He says it with a rage you rarely see in his eyes.

He will do his best to remind you to surely practice kindness but also to be mindful who you help and who you are kind to, cause there's always rotten that can harm you, and lowkey if you get hurt he will invite you to take back what you gave.

Despite this Halsin considers kindness the bare minimum a person should be, and what stops him from encouraging you to be kinder, its just the knowledge that you might get hurt.

[junowritings]

Can I request headcanons for Haarlep, Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor with gn crush who can't genuinely can't tell if someone is being platonic or romantic to them?

Anon dear nothing but kisses thank you for the amazing request and requesting my fav Tiefs~

I'd wanted to leave the scenarios between each vague when I began this; I swear this started off small but it's now like 2am and ten pages long but here we are!

Also I've only just finished Act 2 so I may not have been too accurate with Haarlep and the others' act 3 moments but I do hope you enjoy~

=======

Haarlep 

♡ You’ve certainly put yourself in it this time. Managing to earn the affections of an incubus like Haarlep? You’ve either done something very right, or so very very amusing.

♡ At the House of hope the lines between affection and lust have all but blurred for Haarlep long before you showed up snooping around in places you weren’t supposed to be. You aren’t the first one to be lured in and, if the place’s owner had its way, you most certainly wouldn’t be the last; but that doesn’t mean you can’t provide some worthwhile entertainment for the incubus you stumble across in Raphael’s quarters.

♡ The second you’d poked your head into the boudoir to snoop you’d caught Haarlep’s attention, if only for the fact that you most certainly shouldn’t have been poking around so brazenly. They’ve heard your name plenty of times; heard how you’ve toed the fine line of keeping Rapael on his toes at every turn without making an enemy of him - yet. You should know better than to test the limits like this - but you don’t, and that makes the thought of killing you so wasteful to Haarlep when there’s far more amusing ways to make use of you.

♡Maybe it was merely for curiosity’s sake that they allowed you to walk in and out of the place with your life and soul intact; the potential of getting to do something - or someone - fun too tempting to pass up on after wiling the days away with the same old faces. For you to come voluntarily traipsing round the corridors of Raphael’s very ‘home’? Knowing the consequences and either too brave or too foolish to heed them? Now that piques the incubus’ interest, enough that they’re willing to let you leave after they’ve had their fun. After all, they know you won’t be able to stay away for long.

♡ You keep coming back - of course you do. You’re fun to toy with - the most amusement that they’ve had in quite a while. Even with an unwanted guest squirming around in your head and time being a precious commodity when your corner of the world is on the line, you always have a penchant for coming back for more. And they are more than content to give you those reasons to keep coming back; you’ll never stray for long now that they’ve got their claws into you, of that they’re certain.

♡ Oftentimes your visits aren’t with the promise of fulfilling desires - at least not the carnal ones. Instead you make a habit of sneaking into Raphael’s boudoir just to keep them company, flashing them that mischievous grin as you stretch out onto that luxurious bed and eagerly pat the space beside you. Haarlep feigns the role of a lover well - they’ve had enough centuries to hone their craft after all. So even they know when the line between a mere amusement and something more affectionate begin to blur together when it comes to you. It's gradual, of course - those simple hours listening to you rattle away about the latest scandalous adventure as they gently card clawed fingers through your hair; watching those little twinges of content pleasure on your face as you lean into their touch almost instinctively. 

♡ Haarlep is intimate by nature, always wanting to keep a hand on you at all times no matter the form that they take. Even in the most mundane circumstances you’ll find claws rubbing soft circles into your sides, a head perched upon the crook of your shoulder and warm breaths against your ear just close enough to get you to squirm or playfully push them away. If they’re feeling particularly greedy they’ll hide you away from the world within their wings, pulling your attention to focus purely on them as their tail curls loosely around your leg.

♡ The first night that you make the mistake of drifting off right there in the incubus’ arms is the day that Haarlep puts a face to the emotion that rattles awake within their chest. When was the last time they had felt such affection? Adored for merely existing? The concept of love is inherently foreign for someone like Haarlep, who has long released any such ties the moment they were contracted to be Raphael’s personal mirror in bed. And yet the feeling is relished nonetheless. 

♡ Be it blind trust or mounting exhaustion that leads you to this they care not; they’re far more focused on engraving every little contour of your face to their mind, running a finger down the curve of your jaw with a pleased hum. Such a hopeless one they’ve managed to fall for - if only you knew just how much you drew them in.

♡ Haarlep knows full well that you must be a little clueless to keep willingly coming back to the incubus without thought of the potential consequences. One would mistake you for a fool, or someone who values their life so little - but you’re neither (most of the time), and it doesn’t take much for Haarlep to clock onto why that is. You’re hopeless at differentiating between platonic and romantic advances; poor thing. A better person would take pity on you, perhaps assuage your inner turmoil with a few simple words. But when the alternative is being able to get you squirm with just enough hints to keep you on your proverbial toes? Well, who could fault them for keeping you guessing? 

♡ Out of all of them, Haarlep is more than happy to keep you spinning with this ‘will they won’t they’ game that they have circling around your head all of the time. Why waste a good thing with something so frivolous when they already have you right where they want you? Away from prying eyes, tucked away in their arms as they make your head spin with honeyed words and teasing remarks of your little conundrum. There’s no need to spoil the party by putting a name to the blatant feelings that lay thick in the air, is there?

♡That’s what they believe at least while they have you. But alas there’s always the inevitable departure - time is ticking on the surface world, your world. And you can’t spend all of your days in the House of Hope for them to seek out whenever they wish, though the idea becomes more and more appealing with each passing day. They're always reluctant to see you leave, hoping to tempt you back with teases and promises, all the while their hands are on your hips and his tail is back to curling around your ankle as though intent on convincing you to stay. 

♡ They allow you to slip from their claws if you insist, but don’t think you won’t have eyes on you until the very second that you disappear through that portal, contemplating pulling you right back for one selfish reason or another. They have teased and pulled at your heartstrings about missing you before - a comment once said in jest to rile you up - but this time Haarlep’s the one who feels the familiar tug as they slink back to their familiar stage. There’s the ripple of shifting bones and infernal magic rippling through them as they don your form, standing before the mirror within Raphael’s quarters as they bring a hand up to affectionately caress the flesh of their - your - cheek. An imitation of the real thing, but it serves its purpose as they anticipate your return.

♡ Perhaps, they decide as they map out every inch of this reflection of you, they will wrap this little game up sooner than they thought. Better for the cat to snatch you up before a fox does, hm?

Dammon

♡ Nothing’s been easy since long before Dammon and the other Tieflings took up the journey to Baldur’s gate, hoping for a better life than the ones that they’re leaving behind. He’s had to leave a lot of things behind in pursuit of that better life - his forge and his tools, anything he couldn’t carry or risk going back for. Hells, he was limited to the clothes on his back and the essentials he’d been fortunate enough to take with him; but that was all he had left of his old life, and Dammon knows the others are the same. It’s not just material possessions either - any plans he once had about his future went up in smoke months ago, instead clinging to the hope of forging some kind of livelihood in the city when they finally arrived. Anything other than that? Any dreams of love? A partner? A family? A dream is all they’re set to remain as.

♡ Dammon’s thankful that there’s plenty of things to keep him busy. Sure the forge and tools at the grove don’t hold a candle to his setup back at his old place but it’s an excellent way to keep himself occupied whenever he finds himself getting restless and itching for the outlet of familiarity. While things remain a stalemate between the Tieflings and the druids, he passes the time helping where he can, repairing armor and weapons with what limited materials he has to make sure that no one’s going out there completely unarmed. It’s good work for now, and lets him stave off the pining, leaving the humored thoughts of kindling anything romantic with anyone for the lonely nights at his forge or tucked away in his books.

♡ That all changed once you came along of course.

♡ Your mere presence is a whirlwind of a tale in itself. Armor bashed and dented from something much larger than goblins, weapon looking as though it’s one good swing away from snapping in two. Hells, it looks like you took a tumble from a damned cliff and walked it off - a thought he admits to a few days after your first meeting. He decides it’s probably best not to ask when you laugh, patting his back with a shake of your head as you chuckle that he doesn’t know the half of it. Wherever you came from you’ve taken a hell of a beating, and yet you still look ready to take on the world as you amble over to his forge to browse his wares and introduce yourself to the tiefling.

♡ You make yourself known about the Grove, making fast friends with some and tolerable allies in others. Dammon’s firmly in the former category, and really enjoys having you around. Even if you don’t know much about smithing you humor him whenever he talks about his craft, listening with an eager ear whenever he gets that bright glint in his eye that signals he’s going to go on a tangent. Don’t mention it though - it will fluster him to the hells and back to know that you notice that kind of stuff. Not to mention you respect his space while he’s working. Dammon’s focus when his working is honed in on defining details and making each piece perfect in his own way, so it's easy to lose track of what’s going on around him when he’s bent over his forge with his newest labor of love. 

♡ Maybe that’s why you’re able to catch him by surprise so often, startled out of his own reverie spotting you leaning against the beam of his makeshift workspace. You comment how amazing it is to see him so immersed in his craft - it’s inspiring, really - and that small appraisal alone has his face turning a lovely shade of copper. His work’s been praised before - it’s the highlight of his days seeing people genuinely appreciate the things he creates with his own hands. But being the one receiving such praise rather than the items he makes does something to his poor heart.

♡Dammon recognizes that he’s beginning to fall for you. It’s not something that hits him all at once, more like a gradual wave of affections that wash over him with each little greeting or rushed wave as you dart around the camp and back out again on the next adventure. It makes him feel…lighter, warmer. He’s tried to remain hopeful about what the future holds, to keep morale going in his own way; but he’s just as uncertain about it all as the others are. But having you around? Seeing the lengths that you go to - both from the issues at the Grove to the attack on the inn and the conflict at Moonrise? That kind of life that he had to push on the backburner feels feasible now - and you’re beginning to become an integral part of it at every turn.

♡ Dammon’s love language is acts of service, so you can expect him to go out of his way to do things for you to make your life easier. It starts off small; giving you discounts on anything you buy from him and little freebies he can spare whenever things aren’t so dire. Dammon always believes that you deserve more however, so eventually you can find him going out of his way to fashion whatever materials he can spare into things for you. 

♡ He’s no jewel smith, but he knows his own craft well, so he’ll gift you things that he knows you’ll find useful - weapons . He’ll refuse any kind of payment you try to give him, assuring you that you deserve far more after all you’ve done as he gently presses your gold back into your palm with a warm smile, his touch lingering a little longer than necessary. 

♡And yet you still wonder why the party strong-arms you into being the designated buyer whenever you stop by his forge for repairs or supplies - your lack of awareness is going to give Gale more gray hairs at this rate.

♡ The only problem with Dammon’s acts of service, is that it’s very easy to mistake these gestures as him just being a good person - which he is! You’ve seen how easily he goes out of his way to help others in a pinch. You were there when he went through all of that effort to help Karlach curb her infernal engine enough to give her the chance for closeness that she’d been deprived of for years. (after all she’d almost cracked your ribs returning the hug you’d given her to test if Dammon’s upgrade had worked.) It’s easy for you to rationalize all of his gifts as something that’s just platonic - you couldn’t hope for more, right?

♡ Dammon wishes so badly that you would.

♡Is certainly the most upfront about his crush out of all of the tieflings once he realizes that you struggle to discern any romantic intentions. Though he does worry that he’s the one misreading the situation and that you may not actually reciprocate the feelings he has for you, in the end it doesn’t stop him. He needs to get his feelings out there before they burn over - especially with what could very well be the end of the world dangling over everybody’s heads by the time you all finally reach Baldur’s gate. If he doesn’t do it now, he worries you’ll never get the chance to figure it out for yourself. 

♡ He’ll call you away from your companions, asking for a moment of your time at the back of his shop. Tucked away in the far corner of his workplace, it reminds him of back at the Grove curled over his forge with you by his side watching him work with a quiet admiration. The memory gives him the confidence to reach for your hand, noting the way your eyes widen and your breath catches. You’ve fought gods and toppled cults, and yet you’re left speechless by his touch? As if the tiefling couldn’t fall for you any more. 

♡ If he had his way, Dammon would give you something far better than just spilling his feelings, something more profound than just words. But he knows better, that you’re on borrowed time and a small moment whisked away in the back of his forge is all he can give you right now - with promises for a proper date and confession when you come back alive.

♡ Expect Dammon to go overboard with the gift though, because of course he won’t just leave it at words. He keeps flipping between something classic like flowers and sweet treats (maybe even craft some metalwork flowers himself?); or perhaps you’d like something more practical like a weapon or armor with custom engraving (that he absolutely put his signature on in the hopes it will remind you of him when you’re on the road.) In the end he decides to go with a combination of both, carefully tucked away somewhere safe to give to you whatever your answer may be.

Rolan

♡ The idea of a crush was, at the beginning, a laughable notion to Rolan. Back at the Grove his priority was focused on two things and two things alone - one, getting to Baldur’s gate to begin the apprenticeship he’s dreamed of for months; and two, getting Cal and Lia there with him in one piece. Anything beyond that was unimportant, at least, that’s what he told himself at the time to make the idea of leaving the Grove without the rest of them more palatable. But then of course some newcomer just had to step in during one of the bi-daily spats about it and that whole idea went up in the air along with whatever patience he may have had.

♡ You’d convinced him to stay, convinced him not to pack up and leave in just one conversation and he’d bended to your interjection just like that. Rolan still doesn’t know why he conceded, watching with furrowed brows as Lia rounded on you excited to figure out how you did that and Cal sighing in relief that the whole argument was finally over with. It doesn’t matter - soon you’ll be right back out of those gates, just another soul passing through, and you’d be gone as though you never existed in the first place.

♡ If only it was that simple, but no, you just had to stick around instead of carrying on your way. Perhaps it would have saved his heart the trouble if you hadn’t.

♡ His feelings are misplaced, mistaken for frustration watching you traipse around fixing problems he hasn’t been able to. At first it’s jealousy - another ugly feeling he won’t admit. How do you make helping people look so easy? Breathing life into the cracks that have formed between the two groups and patching them up as simply as you breathe? 

♡ It doesn’t help that you stop by to see him every time, a habit that persists long after your time in the Grove. Rolan believes it’s out of pity and the wizard is ready to give you an earful about it. But the longer you stick around the more he has to come to terms with the fact that it’s nothing as malicious as that - you just enjoy coming to see him, for whatever reason. Rolan doesn’t know at what point your company becomes more than tolerable, even enjoyable - but the idea of it being anything more than that, with anyone much less you, is a far off notion.

♡ Of course he doesn’t expect to fall for someone, and he most certainly doesn’t expect it to be you. He’s a stubborn soul, who is just as reluctant to come to terms with his own feelings, much less the realization that these feelings aren’t the closely guarded secret he believed them to be. 

♡ All it takes Cal makes an offhand comment once about how Rolan’s ‘complaints’ about you these days sound more like praises - that if he didn’t know any better it sounds like he actually loves having you around. And just like that Rolan very nearly chokes on the drink he was unfortunate enough to be imbibing in at the time. 

♡ Him? Have feelings for YOU?! You, some wayward adventurer with a penchant for sticking your nose in where it doesn’t rightly belong out of some presumed sense of duty to this little wayward band of Tieflings? Who goes out of your way to seek out his company again and again no matter how harshly he comes off in return? Who humors his temper, grins at his sarcastic wit, and gives him that damned smile that sometimes makes the warmth in his chest feel like it’s shooting straight up to his throat threatening to spill-

♡ Oh.

♡ Oh no.

♡ The lightbulb pings simultaneously, and it's a good thing you’re not around to hear his siblings absolutely losing it over the knowledge that their brother is stuck pining over you. Not even a few weeks ago he was cussing you out over some perceived slight that was childish in hindsight, spurred on by his own feelings of helplessness. But now? You still made his blood boil, but gods if it didn’t feel like his blood burned for you now.

♡ Rolan’s way of flirting is by showing off to you. He believes that his greatest asset to impress you is his magic, and is fully prepared to use the arsenal of non-lethal spells at his disposal in an attempt to get you swooning. During the celebration at the Grove he remembers fondly the sound of your applause at his performance, your eyes alight with mirth as the sky right above your heads came alive with the results of his magic. The satisfaction of witnessing your face light up in the glow had been worth it; you’d rolled your eyes at his admittedly overdramatic bow but still grinned as your expression softened in embers of the campfire. It still has that warmth Rolan’s begun associating with you kindling in his chest, so he sets on impressing you every chance he gets, with the hope that just maybe it’ll be enough to kindle a warmth within you too.

♡ Rolan insists that he’s not outright confessing to you because surely you already know? Granted he hasn’t been the most…open, about his feelings, nor has he been very direct in his approach where others would have been bold…

♡ Oh who is he kidding - the thought of your rejection scared off any attempts to confess before this point. You’ve always been there - coming in every time there’s been mortal peril to save his life and the lives of his family again and again. It’s hard not to feel as though he’s got nothing to give every time you prove your resilience - would you even want him after you’ve seen him at his worst? He’d much rather live with the torment than know the answer to that question, even if it gnaws at him every night.

♡ Before you ask, yes there’s a betting pool on who’s going to confess first. What began as an inside joke spread like wildfire amongst the group the second Mol caught wind of the lucrative deal. Rolan doesn’t know what’s more mortifying - the fact that his affections are blatantly obvious enough to everyone around the pair of you, or that despite all of this you’re the only one who has no idea.

♡ Someone else is going to have to break the stalemate that’s going on here and convince him to confess. Not just for your sake or Rolan’s, but because your respective groups are getting fed up with the building tension with no-one saying anything. Gods you can’t both be this dense can you?

♡ Yes. Yes you can. And no one is having a good time right now.

♡ Fortunately for the both of you, the aftermath of Moonrise is when the dam finally breaks on all of the things that Rolan’s been holding back. Loose lips sink ships, and in Rolan’s case all of the drinks he’d imbibed earlier attempting to drown his sorrows at the last light inn have eased the filter that kept his feelings at bay. It’s made him far more prone to speaking his mind, not to mention that he’s still reeling from the rush of relief at seeing his siblings alive - yet another thing he has to thank you for - so much so that he’s seeking you out before he can think otherwise.

♡ He doesn’t have to go far; you and Rolan nearly butt heads as he goes to shoot up from his seat, and though you look worse for wear still bearing the bruises and battered gear of a battle well won he watches your expression light up. All it takes is seeing you’ve come back alive, that you’ve come straight to him before you’ve even thought to patch yourself up and his resolve crumbles. 

♡ Rolan’s out of his chair and in your arms before you can blink, one hand winding through your hair and the other pressed against your back to stop you from falling flat on your ass with how swift he moves as he holds you like you’ll slip right through his fingers. He swears he can hear your heart hammering against his chest, too focused to notice the twitch of his tail curled round your leg. By the time he catches himself, Rolan practically goes rigid and pulls back, enough to see your face. The tiefling takes in your wide eyes and slack jaw with a sudden jolt of clarity that fuck, you really weren’t aware of what you were to him this whole time; and now he’s gone and-

♡ He opens his mouth again - whether to take it back or blame it on the drink. But before he can there’s arms around him, and suddenly he’s back in his chair with your face pressed into the crook of his neck, and he swears he sees a flash of red on your face enough to rival his own skin. You hold him tight enough that he has to focus a little to breathe, but it’s a sacrifice he makes gladly as his ears pick up on your hurried murmurs of ‘having no idea’ and ‘can’t believe it’ as you practically corner him into his seat.

♡ The moment is broken by the swift screech of “Finally!” from somewhere in the inn, and suddenly the world’s spinning again. Rolan’s glare over your shoulder in a bid to suss out the offending party is half-hearted, lacking any real bite in lieu of having someone far more important to focus his attention on.

Zevlor

♡ Welcome to slow burn two: electric boogaloo, and in this essay I will-

♡ Zevlor has not lived an easy life, even before the fall of Elturel; you can tell he’s got more than his fair share of scars and war stories behind those deep yellow eyes, the testament of a man who fights daily to hold the pieces of his hope and faith close to his heart. He’s a weathered soul, who many have relied on and put their faith in even in spite of his own perceived shortcomings. The tieflings that he leads to safe pastures are no different; they’re all hoping to find a better life at Baldur’s gate, and all of them turn to Zevlor to lead them all there. 

♡ The relief is almost palpable when you arrive through those gates, dragging Aradin and his men in behind you. You’d made short work of the goblins fighting to tear their way inside, still plucking bits of arrow and guts from the battered shell of your armor as you’d wandered into the Grove alongside the rest of your party. 

♡ He has every reason to believe that you’ll simply go on your way, knowing that you’re more than capable enough to handle the threats out on the road to leave the Grove in your peripherals without a second thought. Yet you don’t; instead you’re right back into the fray, pushing between the spat between himself and Aradin without hesitation with a sharp reminder that there’s more here at stake than some squabbling about something that could have - but didn’t - happen.

♡ Zevlor isn’t proud to admit that he’d hoped you’d be useful in easing tensions in the grove between the Tieflings and the druids. You’re a neutral third party, so to speak, and though he’s sure that the druids are set on locking down the grove and kicking them out to the wilds he hopes that someone like you will be able to at least buy them all some time. When that inevitably didn’t work he’s surprised to learn you’ve set your sights on the next best thing - forget just the goblins at the gate, you’re gearing your party up to take on the source at the heart of that camp.

♡ He’d be lying if he said he didn’t admire you from the beginning, a feeling that only becomes more profound the longer you’re around. Zevlor watches you humor Mattis’ salesmanship, sees you taking the time to train the others to better defend themselves and diffusing any quarrels on the daily rounds that you insist on joining the Tiefling on. It has a visible impact on the camp’s morale, and Zevlor has to wonder if you were truly just a passing adventurer or something more divine sent to them in their hour of need when he catches you conversing with the other tieflings, bringing smiles to their faces after months of hardships.

♡Another firm member of the ‘won’t broach the blatant pining in the room’ club. Zevlor’s lived long enough to put a name to the emotions that he’s feeling, and has taken the time to process what exactly that means when it comes to his feelings for you specifically. What he feels for you runs deeper than respect, deeper than the mere admiration that he held for you at your first encounter beyond the gates. 

♡You consume his thoughts every second that you’re not close to his side. Worries himself into a panic each time you leave the safety of the grove wanting to follow but kept rooted with his own duties. You’re more than capable of defending yourself as you’ve demonstrated time and time again, but gods if he doesn’t lament not being there to protect you as ardently as you do to others. It would be selfish to want such a thing, but it doesn’t stop him from craving it in the least.

♡ Out of every single being on this list, there is none more reluctant to confess to you that he’s begun to fall for you than Zevlor. He knows this affection; wishes for nothing more than to allow himself this small act of greed keeping it close and savoring the warmth it provides. But unless you say something that is as far as he is willing to dare your relationship to progress. 

♡ What really stops Zevlor from confessing is himself. He firmly believes that he’s simply not worthy of you. He’s a man who has made too many mistakes, made too many choices that have led to lives lost and consequences on those around him. Surely you deserve someone unmarred by that kind of life? Who can give you love uninhibited by the guilt and ghosts of one's past that plague him on so many sleepless nights?

♡ But oh how easily you’ve got this man curled around your finger, and you don’t even know it. Now that you’ve so thoroughly poured your life into the cracks of his soul, after everything you’ve done, that selfish want kindles a fire in his heart. He’d drop to his knees and pledge you his life if it meant having you look at him with a sliver of the affection he holds for you.

♡ The closest that Zevlor’s ever gotten to confessing to you was during the after party in the Grove. It had been the first time in who knows how long that Zevlor could try to shelve his worries for the future, to allow his guard to relax for the single night of revelry that this celebration offered. A respite like this was far too welcome, and Zevlor was about as ready to fall asleep where he stood as he was to wile the hours away enjoying the revelry.

♡ And there you were, the one responsible for it all leaning up against his side, thoroughly exhausted from doing the rounds around the camp but beaming with pride. His eyes were on you the moment you pressed a hand to his shoulder, golden eyes glowing in the light of the campfire taking in your ruddy cheeks and tired grin as you sighed over how good it was to finally see him smile.

♡ Perhaps it was the longing of a sentimental old tiefling, or being half drunk on the atmosphere that seeped into every fiber of the party, but in response he’d brought a hand to cover your own. Zevlor had guided it away from his shoulder and you’d allowed him to with ease. You’d watched with curious eyes as he’d brought your hand up just enough to brush his lips across your knuckles, ghosting over bruises and scrapes with an unspoken reverence.

♡ You’d never had the chance to ask him what you’d really meant to him back then - Alfira had interjected to veer you back over to the party, eager to show you the beginnings of her next song dedicated to your feats. And by the time you’d spun around to look for him again Zevlor had all but slipped away, gone for the rest of the night.

♡ By the time you reach Baldur’s gate you’re still struggling to discern Zevlor’s feelings from that night. That’s it; no one else can wait for you to realize the obvious anymore.

♡ Someone else is going to have to step in to give you a nudge in the right direction, and not a gentle nudge either - if you’re truly struggling to see how hard Zevlor is crushing on you you’re going to need an intervention. Don’t be surprised if your traveling party is the one to bite the arrow and do it. You have no idea whether to be confused or offended when they drag you aside to break it to you and ease their suffering. Astarion is griping on about how this started off entertaining but now is downright painful to watch you two eyeballing each other and not doing anything about it. Wyll is trying to stem the migraine he gets in his attempt to really drive home that you’re not just imagining all of these romantic moments you’ve had with Zevlor. And Lae’zel is several minutes away from clocking the entire group round the heads with the hilt of her sword for wasting time.

♡ She shoulders past the other two with a biting comment about their lack of efficiency before turning her attention back onto you. Her tone is sharp but not unkind as she quips that you’re wasting breath on your own perceptions of the tiefling’s actions. What you should focus on is what you want and how to get it. Besides, even a fool would notice the way he starts at your beck and call - she’d like to believe that you’re as competent as she thinks to put the pieces together.

♡ Lae’zel’s words do the trick. They watch your brain shoot through every train of thought you’ve been battling with all at once, eyes comically large and hand clamped over your mouth in a poor attempt to mask your scream of realization as you do exactly what she says. And then the next moment you’re scrambling past your companions, a frantic command for them to meet you back at the camp before you all but trip over the pavement beneath you in your haste to seek out the former hellrider.

♡ Once you find him, Zevlor almost jumps out of his skin with how hard you barrel through the door and into his home. He’s half a mind to worry that there’s something seriously wrong, immediately rounding to close the distance between you and place his hands upon your shoulders to keep you from falling flat on your face. The questions of concern die on his tongue the moment your hand cups his face, guiding him to look at your face and thumb brushing over the ridges of his cheek in such a way his mouth runs dry.

♡ When you finally blurt out what you came here for, asking through hurried breaths if he loves you Zevlor all but freezes beneath your touch. His eyes are wide, wild with the fear that you’ve come to turn him down and fully prepared to assure you that he’ll never burden you with his feelings ever again. That is till you continue for him. All it will take is a little reassurance on your part that he has nothing to fear, that you care for him in turn, and you’ll have this poor man practically crumbling into your awaiting arms as though you’ve slipped the weight of the world from his shoulders. Give him time, hold him for a little longer, and Zevlor will gladly regale you with the feelings he’d intended to leave unsaid for the rest of his days - he’d do anything you’d ask, after all.

[forgeofthenine]

Hello there :) I just want to say that I love all of your work so far, it’s absolutely amazing :) if it’s okay please could I request headcanons of the Bachelor’s having a crush on a shy and insecure non tiefling reader 💙💙

Thank you so much! ♥️♥️♥️ I'm sorry it took me a while to get to your headcanons, but I hope you enjoy them! I also just got a new phone, so any extra typos are bc this new keyboard is screwing me over lmao

The bachelors with a shy and insecure reader

Dammon

Easily one of the best love interests for someone that's shy or insecure

Dammon is great at slowly easing people out of their shell, he pushes without going to far

He has patience too, even if it takes months for you to have a full conversation with him

Really, the man just likes seeing you act all shy, the way you flush with embarrassment is endearing

And, while the fact you're a non tiefling gives him pause at first, it's not really an issue for him

If anything it just means you won't pick up on the way his tail wags-

Dammon is so sweet about your insecurities

Depending on what they are, he'll either help you reach your goals or assure you that your wonderful

Both even and possibly at the same time

He's so big on praise and there doesn't go a day where Dammon doesn't compliment you in some way

Everything Dammon says is so sweet and genuine too

Zevlor

This lovely paladin would suit someone shy and insecure

Zevlor himself is quiet and reserved, and has dealt with his own share of insecurities throughout his life

He can see it in the way you act, what's going through your head

There's no way you can hide things from him, after years of being a hellrider it makes you observant

The way Zevlors endlessly understanding is so sweet <3

If you need support or comfort in any way, he will always be there

Whether you need a hug or help fixing a problem

He never expects anything back, but seeing you open up to him is more than enough of a reward

You being a non tiefling doesn't bother Zevlor, I definitely think he's been with non tiefs before in the past

Like Dammon, he is also very patient

Despite his feelings, Zevlor will take your relationship at whatever speed you'd like

He's quite content being a close friend of yours and supporting you

Please just kiss Zevlor already, he'll die before making the first move

Rolan

Are you sure you want to try and date Rolan? 💀

We love him, but this man is a firecracker of a tiefling, he takes a while to adjust to

While he realises you're shy, it takes Cal and Lia pestering him before he stops his little angry outbursts

Instead he starts to become a lot more mindful about his voice, tone, and body language

This goes double when he realises his feelings for you

It's a noticeable change, particularly when you leave a room and the firecracker attitude is back

He's your hype squad too when you're feeling insecure

Rolan is both a proud man but he does worry about his abilities and how he stacks up

It's a perspective that helps him both understand your thoughts, and help you overcome negative thinking patterns

If he gets to spend time with his crush while he helps, then that's just a bonus

In the end, you and Rolan end up being like the 'they asked for no pickles' meme, if anyone knows what I'm talking about

It's honestly so cute seeing him pine over you while hyping you up in his own sassy way

[randoimago]

Can I request headcanons for Baldur's Gate 3 Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor with touch starved gn s/o please?

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Character(s): Dammon, Rolan, Zevlor

Note(s): Ngl I feel like all three of these tiefs are touchstarved too

Dammon

It's accidental brushes with Dammon working his forge and you staying in the area to keep him company. He's reaching for tools, sometimes asking you to retrieve something for him, and his hand will graze yours or his tail will knock into you (which he does apologize for since it's got a mind of its own).

He doesn't quite notice your reactions when he does give you those brief touches, but when he takes a break and actually kisses your cheek or stands shoulder to shoulder with you, smiling over at you, then he definitely notices how you react.

His tail "has a mind of its own" and doesn't seem to hesitate as it gently coils around your leg. Dammon coyly apologizes but doesn't make a move to retract unless you ask him to.

Rolan

Rolan tends to be rather private when it comes to physical affection. Even when his siblings are around, any affection given to them usually ends up being backward compliments (given in good fun, of course).

So with you as his S/O, he does much of the same by poking and teasing you, acting like a smug prick at times. It's only when he pats you on the head to be a tad condescending that he notices how you seem to preen a bit at the contact.

Rolan can't help but be a bit smug about giving you more physical affection under the pretext of teasing or messing with you. In actuality, he is also melting a bit when he gets to touch you or you touch him in return.

Zevlor

He's always hesitant about touching you. Even if he so desperately wants to wrap his arms around you hold your hand or just kiss your forehead, he stops himself. With the actions he's taken, he doesn't feel like he deserves to be able to touch someone as perfect as you.

But he starts to pay attention. His eyes notice the longing in yours and how they mirror what he feels. Even if he still has so much guilt for his past actions, he did allow himself the selfishness of accepting you as his S/O. Like Hells, he's going to neglect you.

He's very hesitant to reach out to place his hand on yours. It's a simple gesture, but he notices how your eyes light up and you easily hold his hand back. Zevlor lets out the breath he was holding before taking your reaction as an invitation to gently pull you close by your joined hands and wrap his arms around you. A soft exhale leaves him as he feels just as much relief from this touching as you do.

Taglist:

@unhelpfulnpc

[weaveandwood]

Weave and Woods Chapter 10: A Wondrous Thing

Gale/Named Tav | Slow Burn | Read on AO3 | Entire Work

Summary:

Auroria is exhausted from all the perils of the Shadow Cursed Lands and Gale tries his best to get her to actually sleep. The Harpers throw a party after a successful mission rescuing prisoners from Moonrise Towers.

He jumped up from the barstool and made a beeline for the door, pushing past a group of gnomes and two tieflings. Relief washed over him. They’re back, and they were successful. He went out into the courtyard, and saw her smiling and laughing, celebrating with some Harpers who had greeted her and Lae’zel first. She was safe, unharmed. She made eye contact with him and gave a small wave, which he returned. He felt his heart swell inside his chest, unable to be contained anymore. I love her.  He was a man possessed. He strode up to her, cutting through the Harpers, bypassing Lae’zel. He saw no one else but her. Only her. Always her.

AN: I love them so much. Thank you for reading this fluffy sweet chapter <3

“You look exhausted.”

“Thanks for pointing that out.” Auroria yawned, her head resting on the bar at the back of the Last Light Inn. “I am exhausted.”

Gale pulled up a stool and sat next to her. It had been a long few days since they got to the Last Light Inn, and she had been going non-stop, sleeping only a couple hours here and there between a flurry of activity. There was finding Dammon and getting Karlach’s engine fixed, getting her ribs crushed by Karlach’s first hug (and thirty seven hugs after that in the past few days), discovering the mysterious man sleeping in the room on the first floor, delivering the news to Arabella that her parents were dead, saving Isobel from a corrupted Flaming Fist, defeating a caravan on their way to Moonrise towers which granted them a pixie’s blessing to be immune to the shadow curse, and now she was developing a plan to both infiltrate Moonrise Towers and rescue the tieflings and the gnomes from the prison. She and Lae’zel poured over maps from previous scouting missions with the Harpers for hours before nodding to each other, satisfied with what they came up with. That was when she went to the bar by herself and finally sat down for the first time all day. 

“Why don’t you go take the night off and get some sleep?”

“If I take a night off, then these innocent people are still needlessly trapped in a prison and could die. We told them to come this way - I feel responsible for them. Lae’zel and I are going to go to Moonrise tonight. We can sneak into the prisons easily under the guise of being True Souls, and we have a real chance to break them out without violence. Or much violence anyway,” she laughed softly, trying to stave off the tears that threatened to form in her eyes from her deep felt guilt about her part in the plight of the tieflings.

“I’m worried about you.” He said as he reached out, covering her hand with his. “You don’t have to take on everything - we are all capable. I’ve asked you before to let us carry more weight - a burden shared is a burden halved.” 

Her eyes softened as she turned to him and she gave him a half smile. “After being on my own for so long, it’s hard to relinquish control. Please understand me, I’m trying, but I’m used to doing everything myself. If you were talking to the Ora of six months ago, I’d already be at the towers alone, probably getting myself killed or something close to it. At least now, I have company who can talk me out of anything extremely rash when I let my feelings guide me instead of my brain.” She sat up straight, raising both arms over her head to stretch. She saw his eyes flick up and down quickly, trying to be subtle - the stretch was a calculated move on her part. “I promise I’ll sleep tonight. Full eight hours and everything, ranger’s honor.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” he smiled, his warm brown eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Thank you for worrying about me. It feels…nice. No one has worried about me in so long, I forgot what it felt like for someone to care if I live or die.” Auroria reached out this time, grabbing his hand, intertwining her fingers between his. “You’ve shown me that care since the beginning of this strange journey. And…it’s appreciated. I just want you to know that.” 

He ran his thumbs over her knuckles, a soft laugh escaping as he nodded. “Perhaps taking care of each other is what we do. You’ve done that for me since I confided in you about my condition, almost no questions asked. How could I not do the same for you? Our party would suffer greatly without you. I would suffer greatly without you.” 

“Well, I would imagine, since I’m the one who got all those magical artefacts for you,” she teased, trying to clarify for herself if he was speaking pragmatically or something else. She hoped it was something else.

“You know that’s not what I meant, Ora,” he said softly. 

Her face flushed slightly, the tips of her ears turning pink as she considered the implications of what he was saying. She leaned forward a little, closing some of the distance between them. 

“Hmm. And what did you mean then, Gale?” She smiled at him, her eyes taking in his handsome face as he looked at her like she hung the moon. Please let him love me , she pleaded to no one in particular.��

A throat cleared behind Gale. Auroria looked over his shoulder and saw Lae’zel, standing with her arms crossed. “It’s time.”

Auroria nodded, trying to mask her internal disappointment. “Alright, let me go get something I can smash things with.”

“Smash things?” Gale asked, brows furrowed in confusion, the lines between them becoming prominent. She loved those lines that showed up when he was deep in thought. 

Auroria smiled brightly at him. “We’re going to break down the back walls of the cells. The scouts said the tower hasn’t been maintained well so it should be relatively easy as long as we can get out before they realize what we have done.” She watched a smile grow on his face. “Good plan, don’t you think?”

“An excellent plan, though I’d expect nothing less from you. Take my quarterstaff, it’s been quite the asset for me, very useful in smashing, and I would love for it to be in your capable hands,” he said, motioning to the staff that had been leaning against the bar. 

“Thank you, I’ll return it in one piece when we get back, hopefully with freed prisoners and a good story to tell.” Feeling emboldened by their conversation, she kissed his cheek as she got up and picked up the staff, meeting up with Lae’zel who was already waiting on the other side of the room. 

“Well, things with you and Gale seem to be going…well,” she said. 

Auroria smiled. “I think so, too. Now, let’s go rescue some prisoners.”

******

Gale waited at the bar, watching the door for Ora’s return. After getting hugged no less than four times by Karlach, he sent her to hug Astarion, much to Astarion’s dismay. He heard the barstool next to him scraping as it slid back and found Wyll now sitting beside him. 

“I saw you and Ora talking earlier, before she left. It looks like things are blossoming between you?” he asked, having become a confidante to Gale over these past weeks regarding Ora. Gale couldn’t believe he was ever even remotely jealous of Wyll for being someone who so easily could wear his heart on his sleeve. He very clearly loved her as well, though Wyll took time to clarify after the Bibberbang incident that it was just in a friendly manner. The two had grown close ever since, finding they were similar in many aspects, namely matters of the heart. 

Gale nodded, “I must confess, I wasn’t expecting it. How could I? Cast aside from Mystra, cursed orb, locked in my tower for a year of my own volition, tadpole abduction. Who would have thought it would lead me to her?” He took a sip of wine. “Now with Moonrise Towers and Mystra’s command looming over me, I wonder if it is fair to continue on as we are. A small, hopeful part of me believes that time must not be wasted, though.”

“You know me, Gale, I am a romantic. I say go for it - don’t waste time. Love is the most powerful thing on this plane and is capable of working wonders.”

“Perhaps you’re right. I’ll think it over. Thank you, Wyll,” he nodded as Wyll got up to go get his hourly hug from Karlach, who was proving to be quite the menace now that she wasn’t dangerous to touch.

Hours passed. He tapped his fingers on his thighs as he drank wine and read from a book he had found laying around, forgotten by someone. Attempted to read, really - he had glanced over the same four pages at least ten times. He felt the tug of Mystra’s command once again and shook his head as he contemplated the moment of the Absolute’s destruction as well as his own, closing the book and downing the rest of his wine when he heard a commotion outside. They’re back.

He jumped up from the barstool and made a beeline for the door, pushing past a group of gnomes and two tieflings. Relief washed over him. They’re back, and they were successful. He went out into the courtyard, and saw her smiling and laughing, celebrating with some Harpers who had greeted her and Lae’zel first. She was safe, unharmed. She made eye contact with him and gave a small wave, which he returned. He felt his heart swell inside his chest, unable to be contained anymore.

I love her. 

He was a man possessed. He strode up to her, cutting through the Harpers, bypassing Lae’zel. He saw no one else but her. Only her. Always her. 

“Gale? Are you oka-” 

He put his hands on each side of her face and kissed her deeply, surrounded by cheering Harpers, and even a smiling Lae’zel, who he thought he heard say “ Tchk. Finally.” The feeling of her lips against his was everything he thought it would be - no, it was more. It was perfect. And when she closed her eyes and kissed him back? No magic in all the planes could even hope to compare. 

Reality came trickling back in, slowly, then all at once. He broke the kiss and stepped back, clearing his throat. “Ah, apologies, I got caught up in all the celebrations. Congratulations on a successful mission,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Ora laughed then, and handed him his quarterstaff back. “Well I suppose if that’s the reward for a successful mission, I’ll have to make sure to be successful more often.”

A Harper came up, shoving a cup of wine into their hands - everyone was in a celebratory mood, a tangible success after so much hardship and turmoil was much needed. She clinked her cup to his. “To a successful mission, a safe place to camp, and good company.” They both took a drink before she was pulled away by Karlach for a welcome back hug. They were surrounded by people and yet his eye was only drawn to her. Her bright smile and cheerful laughter were a salve in this blighted land. 

He raised his cup, “To you, Ora.”

The evening passed, the celebration finally dying down after the revelry lasted well into the night. He found Ora back where their day had started, with her head on the bar, struggling to keep her eyes open. Drink and lack of sleep were most likely taking a toll on her, though at some point in the evening she did have the foresight to remove her armor.

“Ora, I don’t think you will last another minute if we don’t get you to bed,” he said, sitting next to her again. She opened one of her eyes and smiled at him from her uncomfortable resting place. Oh, she is definitely exhausted.

“You want to take me to bed, Gale?” she giggled before sitting up and leaning over to him. “I want you to take me to bed, too,” she whispered in his ear. She is exhausted and definitely drunk.

He smiled and laughed softly. “Yes, I want to take you to your tent and put you in your bedroll so you can get that full eight hours you promised me this afternoon, remember?” He took her hand as she stood up and supported her as she walked so she didn’t lose her footing in her state. 

“Hmm, too much wine, not enough sleep,” she slurred, leaning against him. He tried not to think about how good she felt pressed to his side.  

“Yes, exactly.”

They continued walking to their campsite, nestled at the edge of Isobel’s ward to protect from the shadow curse. He led her to her tent, settling her down onto her bedroll, sitting beside her for a moment. Just until she falls asleep, he told himself.

“There we go. Now, eight hours, no less. If anyone even thinks about waking you up early in the morning, they will have to face an angry wizard armed with a fireball and a big stick.” That got a laugh out of her as she got comfortable. He would cherish that sound until the end of his days.

“My hero.”

He moved to get up, to allow her her privacy but she didn’t let go of his hand. “Stay with me tonight?” His heart dropped. He wanted to more than anything, but not with her in this state. He didn’t want to take advantage of the situation, but he also didn’t want to hurt her feelings, put any cracks in this beautiful night, this wondrous thing happening between them. He smiled and kissed the back of her hand.

“I would love nothing more, Ora, but you need to sleep, and I need to be able to guard your tent in the morning.” He moved to cover her up as she hummed in agreement, eyes already closed. He brushed a stray hair from her face and stayed beside her until her breathing deepened and she fell into a serene, restful sleep. 

Back in his tent, he thought he might explode, even with the orb stabilized. He wanted to tell her everything. His feelings, his fears, his desires. He wanted to kiss her without apologies, without excuses about being swept up in the moment. He wanted to hold her in his arms while they made love under the stars. He wanted it all with her, and hoped that she wanted the same, even considering…everything. 

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would tell her, and he knew exactly how.

I love her.

[graysparrowao3]

I'm definitely excited for more Cal and Lia content! The way you write their dynamic is always a joy to read!

I was curious: Relating to the Cal and Lia WIP, did Rolan barely figure out what they were doing or did he know the entire time and was just playing dumb? Is there a little snippet you can share from that WIP?

A follow up question that doesn't exactly relate to the WIPS: How did you figure out writing for their dynamic?

No worries about answering those if you want to keep the fic a surprise! Love your writing!

Forest! Hello, this is so lovely! I'm so touched, and so glad you enjoy to read how I write them. I also love your writings on the siblings, it feeds my soul and my heart! I will do very best to answer your questions and hope it is what you would like from them! <3

(I wanted to do my best to answer and this unintentionally got very long and took a while, I do apologize!)

Relating to the Cal and Lia WIP, did Rolan barely figure out what they were doing or did he know the entire time and was just playing dumb?

Based on the idea provided by @faerunsbest I'm going to go with that he figures it out not immediately but very early on. I'm approaching it that he is playing dumb because he decides that's the best way to keep track of them without having to face the awkwardness of confronting them, and he does get a sense of satisfaction for getting one over on them. But he'll be doing things like staying awake until he knows they're back, doing research on their partners, etc., to make sure they're safe.

Is there a little snippet you can share from that WIP?

It's in the notes/planning stage and I don't have enough content yet to share a narrative snippet, but I'm not against sharing it at all! I shall try to remember to do so soon and tag you both! <3

How did you figure out writing for their dynamic?

For writing their dynamic, the first thing I did was listen to/watch their lines and scenes a lot. There's a collection of Rolan's lines here and also in this Youtube video, and there's a Youtube video of Cal and Lia's lines here. I watched all the scenes on Youtube/Twitter I could find of scenes I never got in my playthrough (i.e. the 'bad' ones).

Then, based on what we see in the game, and I try to explore the underlying psychology and extrapolate to new situations. (I think some of this probably veers into 'head canon' territory, so I hope this is okay to share here.)

An example that stands out in my mind is that if Lia dies and Rolan yells at Cal, Cal runs upstairs at Last Light and has ambient lines about how devastated he is, but if the player speaks to him he immediately hides his pain and says he's fine, it's Rolan he's worried about. So, Cal is able to mediate between them and take care of them emotionally at the cost of hiding his own pain, and also note that Rolan and Lia have more difficulty with emotional intelligence & expression and don't provide that same support for him. (This is why in the longest fic I've written so far (not this Cal and Lia fic, but just to make my point), I had Cal sort of crush on and try to spend time with Dammon and then Wyll, not because I wanted to particularly explore a relationship for him in that fic, but because it shows that Cal is looking for the gentleness and ability to be heard (that I thought those two characters in particular would provide) that he doesn't get with Rolan and Lia - noting here not just how they do interact, but how they do not interact, and what impact that would have on them as people.)

Another example is Lia in Act 1 states that she keeps dreaming of waking with her throat slit - so I wrote her as having this as part of a trauma response, and as being terrified, reasonably so, for her safety, even long after the threat has gone. As much as Lia 'wants to do the right thing', she's idealistic about what that is (note her wanting to join a Mercenary Group), and is also battling her own demons. I think I'm getting off topic, sorry!

These are things I keep in mind - what do they want (in general)? What are they missing? How are they coping with the traumas of their lives? And importantly, how does this impact their interactions?

So, what I usually keep in mind in terms of their dynamics when I'm writing them (note this is only my in-game or post-game thoughts and is not exhaustive character analyses, just main points that I think of to try and keep them "in character" as I see them and avoid falling into 'flanderization'):

Cal:

Is trusting, open-minded in his tone and approach (note how he's always had Rolan and Lia to trust in and take the lead so he doesn't have to).

I might use questions more in his dialogue with them.

It's not about him emotionally - it never is, and he never complains about that in the way Lia does - is carrying the emotional weight for the three of them. (If Cal dies, Lia says angrily about Rolan "it's always about him, his pain" - which in some ways was true, but it may be more accurate to say 'it was never about Cal, his pain'.)

He is light-hearted sometimes and does like to joke around, but he's not infantile - this is still a young man who has been through some serious trauma and conflict.

Admires Rolan more than anyone (says so if Rolan dies).

Wants to be heard but won't ask for it, wants to not have to worry about fighting in every sense of the word.

Lia:

Wants to do 'the right thing' but may be idealistic about what that is, wants to be safe (as mentioned before, is traumatized by it all in her own way).

I might drop words from the start of her speech, especially definite articles/indefinite articles/pronouns (i.e. the, a, I). A lot of the characters in BG3 do this because the dialogue writing is tight, but I associate it more with Lia (rightly or wrongly lol) and it emphasizes directness in her speech.

More direct and bold in approach, not always in the most thoughtful way (as she says, she loves them but isn't good at expressing it), but similar to Cal not being infantile, though she's direct it's not pure aggression - it's protection and fear.

I imagine that deep down she knows Cal admires Rolan more - so where does that leave her? But she's not selfish enough to say it.

Rolan:

(I'm sure folks have already talked about him extensively, so I'll try to focus only on my approach to their interactions!)

If in doubt, I try starting his speech with "I". Even I revise it, it's always a good jumping off point for centering himself in the interaction.

Oblivious to or purposely avoids emotional cues or anything that would cause vulnerability, in part for self-protection.

If he goes too far, as long as he's on good terms with the speaker (and he is with them) he does apologize and revise. He's focused on himself but not a complete asshole, when prompted he doesn't want to hurt them and won't take that risk.

People have different head canon for Rolan (and Cal and Lia) childhood, the theme is often belonging and the doubt / insecurity of belonging that always underpins his thinking. Any assholery towards them is self-protective, lack of emotional expression skills, or the only way he knows to achieve his/their goals.

Wants to succeed, to prove himself, to provide.

All three of them:

Limited emotional expression, just in different ways. Not going to say outright how they really feel unless it's an emotional or climactic moment that will absolutely force it.

Want to protect each other, just in different ways. (Broadly, Cal - emotionally, Lia - physically, Rolan - materially).

Love each other deeply - would all do anything, up to and including sacrifice themselves for each other.

Are determined and have their own agency, and doing the best they can.

Are exhausted and coping with trauma differently.

So essentially it's like a constant push and pull between the three of them, with all of them wanting to express love in the ways they know whilst trying to get their own needs met too, and at the same time none of them able to outright talk to each other in a vulnerable way or express their pain, dancing around what they can't say and falling back on what they're good at/their coping skills.

(Oh God, I hope this is what you were hoping for, I'm sorry it's so long I sort of just kept going 😅)

[verai-marcel]

Your Hearth Is My Home (BG3 Fanfic, Astarion x Female Reader, Part 16 of ?)

Summary, Notes, Tags, & Part 1 are here.

Act I - Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

Act II - Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

AO3 Link is here, my dear.

Word Count: 4275

————————————

Act II, Chapter 4 - The Portal

The next morning, Karlach was sitting at the campfire, waiting very impatiently for you to wake up.

“C’mon, c’mon! Let’s go see if Dammon can fix up my engine!”

You smiled at her. She was like a kid in her excitement. Getting up and throwing on your day clothes, you left camp in a rush, pulling on your gloves as you went.

“Why do you always wear those gloves outside of camp?” she asked.

You shrugged. “Habit.”

Karlach looked at you, tipping her head to get you to continue. You ignored her.

“Alright. Keep your secrets.”

“I will, thank you,” you said with a grin.

Dammon was waving to the two of you as you arrived at the forge. He explained what he had done, and how Karlach needed to install the piece.

You watched with academic interest as she opened up her chest and installed the insulating chamber to her heart engine.

“Did… did it work?” she asked as she stared at her hands.

“Only one way to find out.” Dammon held up a hand. “Go on. Give us your hand.”

Tentatively, Karlach reached out to him. Slowly, she placed her palm against his.

He didn’t burn. He only smiled at her. “Damn. I’m good. And you… you’re very touchable.”

You held back a snicker.

Karlach looked at you. “I can touch people again!” Her face was lit up like a summer sky, her happiness filling you with so much joy that it overflowed your heart. Unable to help yourself, you leapt up and gave her a big hug.

Laughing and squealing with cheer, she swung you around a few times, easily holding you up like you weighed as much as a feather.

“I can’t wait to hug everyone!” she cried out.

“Wait,” Dammon said, his face turning serious. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

***

Walking back to camp, you glanced over at Karlach, who was clearly processing Dammon’s news. You didn’t know what else to do, other than hold her hand the whole way back. You had your gloves on so you couldn’t pry into her emotions, but you could tell from her expression that she was quickly digesting it and moving on.

I’m not sure that’s healthy for her emotionally, but maybe she’s handling it better than I would have.

“Who are you going to hug first?” you asked, hopefully getting her mind off of her future for the time being.

“I don’t know…” She tapped her chin. “Although it’d be real funny if I hugged Lae’zel first!”

As the two of you entered camp, hand in hand, you noted everyone’s reaction.

Gale did a comically exaggerated double take. Really? He’s such a dork sometimes.

Lae’zel and Shadowheart raised an eyebrow. Those two are more alike than they realize.

Astarion glanced at your joined hands and smirked. Oh, I bet he’s got loads of quips in his head right now.

And Wyll smiled and immediately came up to the two of you, holding out his arms. You let go of Karlach and not so subtly pushed her towards him.

He picked her up and held her tightly. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time.”

Karlach and Wyll seemed like they were in their own world, so you walked past them quietly to get breakfast made. As they finally joined everyone at the campfire, she told everyone about her heart and her future choices.

“But we’ll worry about that when the time comes,” she said when she saw the concerned looks on some of their faces. “For now, let’s figure out what’s goin’ on with these tadpoles in our heads. Then I can go home.”

They planned to head to a mausoleum in the old ruined town south of the inn called Reithwin town. You bundled up some snacks for them and wished them luck. 

***

A little past midday, you saw a familiar face. 

“Arabella?” 

You recalled the little tiefling girl from the party, where her parents had been coddling her and profusely thanking the group for rescuing her. The fact that she was here alone did not bode well. 

The base of your spine tingled. It felt cold. 

Oh no. This isn't good. 

She told you that the others had saved her from the shadow cursed while she was looking for her parents. They had told her they would look for them. 

You glanced up at Withers, who subtly shook his head. 

Godsdammit.

“Well, while you wait for them, why don't you come help me with some chores?”

She shrugged. “Sure, I guess.”

***

Arabella soon grew bored of helping with your chores, as most children do, and split her time between playing with the animals and bothering Withers with inane questions. You eventually took her to the inn to play with the other tiefling children while you helped out around the building. 

After a few hours, you saw the party return, Halsin leading with an old, battered lute in hand. He headed straight for the room where the Flaming Fist were staying. He looked determined, an elf on a mission.

You fell in step with the others and followed him, wanting to see what had gotten the usually calm archdruid into such a state.

Halsin held out the lute to the semi-conscious man on the bed, talking softly with him. The man didn’t seem to respond, and even strumming a few strings didn’t do much beyond getting his focus for a few brief moments before he fell into delirium once more.

What if…

You quietly backed away from the group and went to the bar.

“Alfira!”

She turned to you. “Yes, what is it?”

“Could you come help us? We need someone who can play a lute.”

She grinned. “Well, I might know someone.” 

Returning to Halsin with the bard in tow, you tapped him on the arm and gestured towards Alfira. “Can she play?”

He nodded and smiled at you. “Great idea.” Handing the lute over to the tiefling, he stepped back and allowed her to stand beside the bed. After listening to his broken song for a few minutes, she began to play the same song on the lute.

You watched as the man, who you learned was named Art Cullagh, slowly came back to the present, his fragmented mind reconnecting the dots of reality with each strum of the lute. When he sat up, looking around at everyone with clarity in his gaze, Alfira handed back the lute to him and wished him well before excusing herself.

“Thank you,” you called out to her as she left.

“Any time,” she replied as she smiled at you.

You turned back to the conversation before you, learning about the next steps in Halsin’s quest to save Thaniel.

“A portal?”

Halsin nodded. He turned to everyone. “Whenever you are all ready to help, I can summon a portal and get Thaniel out of the Shadowfell. But I’ll need your help to guard it. If the enemy comes and shatters the portal before I return…”

He didn’t need to elaborate. Everyone nodded.

As they all began to head out of the building and back to camp, you spoke up. I have to confirm, even though I'm pretty sure Withers was right. “Did… did you find Arabella’s parents?”

When all of their faces fell, you knew they had. And it wasn’t good.

“No!”

You turned around to see that Arabella had been eavesdropping.

Dammit, I thought she was with the other children.

She looked to be on the verge of tears. “I saw you all, so I came to ask… But… it can’t be. No! I refuse to believe it!” Taking off in a sprint, she left the building faster than you could speak up.

Chasing after her, you saw her taking the path back to camp. A bit relieved, you followed her, keeping her in sight, making sure that she made it back safely. The rest of the party followed at a more sedate pace.

Reaching the campsite, you saw that the girl was sitting with her arms around her knees, staring out at the water next to Withers. Looking at his stone-faced expression, you only shared a nod before turning away, letting her process the news. 

You went about your usual chores, mending and cleaning while letting the stew pot do its thing, but in the back of your mind, you wondered if you could repeat your off-the-cuff cooking cantrip that you had accidentally sang in the Grymforge. While part of you enjoyed letting the food slowly simmer and accumulate its flavor, you knew that the others were probably hungry.

Dropping off the pile of armor and clothes to be cleaned next to your bedroll, you took off your gloves and went up to the pot and stared at it.

Alright, here goes.

Your hands hovered over the simmering water as you hummed, trying to remember exactly what you had done last time. Knowing that it wasn’t quite right, you still managed to make something happen as greenish-yellow lines sprung from your fingers, and you weaved a spell with your voice.

Dropping the magical web down onto the pot, you were surprised to suddenly see the simmering water go eerily still.

You peered into the pot curiously.

A tingle shot through your spine, and you reared your head back just as a fountain of stew shot from the pot, steaming and boiling in the air before landing straight back in, liquid splashing over the sides and scalding your hands. You hissed in pain.

Shadowheart called your name as she rushed over. Taking your hands, she cast a light heal on you.

“Careful, that nearly hit you in the face,” she said, taking a handkerchief and wiping the stew off your skin.

You smiled at her, a bit embarrassed at how badly your spell had backfired. “I know. Thank you.” You glanced over at your stew. “It… might be done?”

It smelled good. You grabbed the ladle from where it had landed on the ground, cleaned it with magic, and tasted the stew. “Yup, it’s done.”

“A dangerous way to make dinner faster,” Gale commented. “But effective nonetheless.”

“You could market that as dinner and a show,” Wyll joked.

Rolling your eyes, you started to serve up the meal.

Afterward, everyone began to prepare for the next day. Sharpening weapons, sparring with each other, reading up on spells… You finished with everyone’s clothes and set them by their tents as usual before heading over to Halsin, who was staring out across the water, deep in thought. You were worried for him most of all.

“Halsin,” you said quietly, reaching up to touch his arm. He felt determined, unshakeable as a mighty tree. Yet there was a hint of fear, but it didn’t seem to be for him. “How are you feeling?”

He turned to you, a gentle smile on his features. “I won't lie, I am a bit nervous. Traveling into the Shadowfell is no easy task. I’ve studied for years, beseeching the Oak Father for his blessing. I pray that we will have his favor come morning.”

You nodded. “I’m hoping that everything goes smoothly. Who will go with you?”

“I must go alone.”

You gasped. “What? Why?”

“The portal is maintained with my power, and the more people that go into it, the more it will drain me. If I’m to have a chance at finding Thaniel and bring him home, I need to go in with as much strength as possible.”

You nodded. That made sense. “So everyone else will be defending the portal?”

“Yes. The moment it opens, the shadow-cursed will swarm it, trying to destroy it. If they succeed…” 

He didn’t need to say more. You reached for his hand and held it tight. “I trust our friends. They’ll make sure you come back safely.” You smiled. “And I’ll make sure there’s a nice meal waiting for you when you return.”

He smiled back. “That’s more than enough incentive to return.” Halsin let go of your hand and held his arms out for a hug, and you gladly let him wrap his big arms around you.

“You’re stronger than you know,” he murmured.

You pulled back, observing the knowing look in his gaze. “What do you know that I don’t?”

He grinned. “There’s a power inside of you, older than even me, and I’m more than three centuries old. I can’t quite place it, but it’s there, within you. You just need to learn how to harness it.”

Frowning, you instinctively reached for your back, but quickly pretended to scratch your shoulder instead. “If you say so,” you said, putting your hands in your lap and wringing them together. He must be sensing something else, not actual power. I’ve never done anything other than cantrips.

He patted you on the head, and you felt a fondness, like a big brother ruffling your hair. “One day, little witch. You’ll find your magic.”

***

Returning to camp, you rolled Halsin’s words around in your head, but they made zero sense. 

An old power? Inside me? Maybe he’s sensing the seal my mother placed on me. There’s nothing else it could be.

You tried to put together the pieces of knowledge that you knew from what your mother had told you. You had an eladrin ancestor somewhere in the past, it was why your ears were a bit pointy. An eclectic form of magic, based solely on song, was what you had learned from your mother, who had learned it from hers, and so on and so forth, passed down through the generations.

From your father, you had learned a bit about the different planes. Baator, Shadowfell, Feywild, the Astral Sea, and their denizens. You had never really thought about why your father, so learned in these things, was living in a small village in the middle of nowhere, but you were thankful for the knowledge. If not for his random lessons while you were growing up, you would have never known about the githyanki, devils, demons, pixies, and other extraplanar beings.

It has to be the seal. It must be some kind of ancient spell she put on me. But for what purpose? Other than giving me weird premonitions.

Perhaps it was a protection spell? It had certainly saved you from bodily injury a few times at this point.

You had been in your head so thoroughly that you had walked past your bedroll and towards the other side of camp, your foot nearly stepping off the shoreline and into the murky water. You stepped backwards and felt a presence at your back.

“Still can’t sense a damn thing, can you?”

You turned to see Astarion smirking at you.

Godsdammit, can’t you come talk to me like a normal person? “Can I help you?”

“You’ve already helped me plenty, my dear,” he said. He pulled out his dagger, gesturing towards yours on your belt. “I’m returning the favor.”

You sighed. “Alright. Go easy on me.”

Pulling out your dagger, you attacked, a clumsy lunge, a graceless swing. For five minutes, he effortlessly deflected every one of your strikes.

Then he began to hum.

Confused, you continued to attack. There was no power in his song, but somehow, he seemed to be even more nimble as he dodged and spun away from your flimsy attempts to stab him.

“Your turn,” he finally said.

“Huh?”

“Hum something while you attack.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Just indulge me.”

Sighing, you thought of a faster tempo song and began to hum. Focusing on the song while striking at him over and over, you stopped thinking, and started to just act and react on instinct. Like the flow of a melody, you slashed, parried, jabbed, and finally, felt like you had made progress when you grabbed Astarion’s wrist, twisted his arm, and dipped in close, pointing your blade at his throat.

“Not bad,” he said, beads of sweat slowly dripping down his forehead. 

Then you felt a tapping on your belly. You looked down to see his other hand, wielding a second, shorter dagger, pointed at your gut.

“But I would have eviscerated you before you got this close.” He tapped the flat edge of the dagger against your belt.

Sighing in defeat, you stepped away from him and put your dagger back into its sheath. “Well, at least I got closer.”

“Did music help?”

You nodded. “Yes. I… I hadn’t thought of that. It was like I stopped overthinking about my next move and just reacted.”

“Good girl,” he murmured, patting your head. You felt that fondness, but it was different from what you had felt with Halsin. This one seemed like…

No. There’s no way.

You pulled away, tired of getting mixed messages. “Thank you for helping me,” you said quietly as you glanced back at your bedroll. “I’d better get some sleep.” You started to turn away.

“Wait.”

You turned back to him. “Yes?”

“I…” He paused for a moment. “Tomorrow morning. We’ll be helping with this”—he gestured dismissively—“portal thing.”

“I heard.”

“So…” He looked up at you and then looked away, clearing his throat. “Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll be hungry when I return.”

You smiled. You miscommunicating idiot. “I’ll keep that in mind.” On a whim, you stepped up to him and patted him on the head, the same way he did to you. “Stay safe, kitty cat.”

He caught your hand and held it close to his chest. His gaze bore into you, two scarlet irises focused fully on you. “You do the same, kitten.”

Thrown off by his intensity, you blinked and backed away, pulling your hand gently from his grasp and smiling to hide your sudden nerves. “Of course. Good night.”

“Sweet dreams, darling,” he said, but you were already heading towards your bedroll.

I’m not running away. I’m not.

***

The next morning, everyone headed off to a small rock outcropping that was just outside of Isobel’s barrier. You went to the inn to help out with laundry and potion making, since a shipment of goods had just arrived, and many of the guards had been injured to get the shipment here.

As the day progressed, you could tell something was wrong. The tingling at the base of your spine was growing stronger with every passing minute. In the past, a tingling would just make your mind churn with anxiety, and you usually calmed down after distracting yourself with some chores. That was before you began having these stronger inklings, and their strength kept increasing as you spent more time with your companions.

This time, the feeling would not go away, even after peeling all of the potatoes in the galley.

You stepped out of the Last Light Inn, your gaze turning north towards the spot where Halsin had opened the portal. You weren’t sure how things were going, but your heart kept telling you to go have a look.

Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll be hungry when I return.

You knew it was his roundabout way of telling you to stay safe and hidden away.

Your seal kept tingling. Fine, I’ll just go take a peek.

As you made your way over to the edge of the shield, your heart began to drop. Shadows and the shadow-cursed were swarming a shining portal, covered in crackling lightning. And in front of the portal, the party was fighting desperately, defending it to the last. 

You could tell that the spellcasters were down to only cantrips, their power weakening as they grew exhausted. The fighters kept swinging their weapons, but the sheer number of enemies was forcing them back, step by step.

You didn’t see Astarion, and started to peer around, looking for him. It wasn’t until Karlach made a big shove, forcing two shadow-cursed away from her, that you could see a bit beyond. On the ground in the front of the portal, you saw one pale elf, clutching his side.

Your feet began to move before your mind caught up. As soon as you left the safety of the shield, you could feel the shadow curse filling your lungs, but you didn’t care. You had to get to the group.

You had to get to him.

Claws of darkness scratched you as you passed, lines of crimson leaking into your clothes as you took cut after cut. But you pushed through and to everyone’s surprise, made it to the top of the rock overlook.

“What are you doing here?” Karlach yelled as she grabbed your arm and practically tossed you behind her.

You paid her no mind. Immediately kneeling down where Astarion lay, you pulled up your sleeve, exposing one of the deeper cuts on your arm, and forced it into his mouth.

“Drink, dammit,” you cried.

The sounds of the battle behind you became muted as you watched his eyelids flutter. His lips moved, and then through sheer instinct, he latched onto your wound and began to drink. You winced at the sharp pain of his fangs penetrating your skin, the pull of blood into his mouth. But after half a minute, he let you go and opened his eyes.

“You idiot,” he rasped as he sat up. He looked terrible, wounds on every limb, claw marks raking his chest.

“I know,” you replied, and slowly stood up, turning to the shadows.

In the back of your mind, you had a thought.

Closing your eyes, diving into your memories, you recalled that specific song from your mother, the one she had only taught you phonetically. A melody to shield against the long cold nights, a hymn that traveled beyond Evermeet, beyond the Trackless Sea.

It was a song you had sung a thousand times, and nothing had ever happened. But you felt that maybe, just maybe, something would happen if you just sang it one more time.

What if it doesn't work? It's never done anything before. 

But it has to. I need it to work.

Taking a deep breath, you imagined a barrier, much like the silvery shield of Isobel, and began to sing.

As if the world suddenly paused, the sounds of battle quieted. You weren’t sure if it was because you were so focused on your song, but it sounded as if the hordes of the undead were moving farther and farther away.

You opened your eyes. A golden aura was before you, pushing back the darkness, giving the others a chance to breathe as the shadow creatures slammed against the shield. With one particularly strong hit, you felt one of your cuts bloom in pain, a burning slice into your skin, and you gasped in agony.

The shield crackled and began to fade. 

Oh shit. 

Ignoring the pain, you sang, and sang, and sang, until the barrier grew strong and bright once more. Until your voice was hoarse and your throat was raw. Until you felt like you were being flayed alive with each strike, the shield taking its power directly from your body. Your cuts bled, the searing pain intensifying with each passing lyric. But you would not, could not stop your song. It flowed out of you like water over a cliff, unstoppable.

Until finally from behind you, the portal crackled and shattered. You felt a familiar presence behind you.

“Well done,” Halsin said.

Smiling, you ended the song on a single triumphant note.

The shadow cursed had disappeared, and vestiges of the enemy lay around a golden perimeter that slowly faded as the barrier created by your song faded away. You felt exhausted, but also elated. You had helped. 

The others turned to you, and they all immediately gave you a strange look.

“What?” you croaked.

Astarion tipped his head towards your reflection in the water. “Take a look at yourself.”

You walked to the edge of the water and gasped. Your ears had grown pointier. Your skin had become tawny brown, and your hair had turned into waves of auburn red, streaked with strands of gold and orange. And your eyes, gods, they glowed like the setting sun. You looked as if the whole of the autumn season had manifested in you.

As your magic faded, you began to look like yourself again, but the image was burned into your memory.

The last memory of your mother as she sang this exact song, her form looking exactly like one of the legends she had told you as a child: The autumn form of the fey eladrin, the folk from the feywilds who spoke and sang in Sylvan, the predecessor of Elvish. 

You turned back to the others. There were smiles all around, but you could tell they were definitely tired. Shadowheart pulled out the last arcane potion from her belt and quickly drank it. 

“Vos cura!”

A blue glow suffused the area around the group, and everyone felt their wounds heal somewhat.

Except for you. You felt nothing except for Astarion’s bite mark heal on your arm. Curious.

“Let’s head back to camp,” Gale announced, hovering next to Shadowheart, his eyes assessing her condition. “We could all use a rest.”

The others began to walk away with Halsin, who was carrying the boy in his arms. Only Astarion remained by your side, guarding you. He held out his arm to you, as if he was escorting you to a ball.

You smiled. It was a kind gesture, and though you knew he did it to be playful, you also knew that he wouldn’t have offered if he didn’t care.

You reached out for him.

Then your world tilted.

And everything went dark.

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

Chapter End Notes: I have been waiting and WAITING to post this chapter, I’ve had the portal portion written since chapter three, just infilling the story to get to this point. I’m so happy to finally share this chapter with you. I hope it was worth the wait! Let me know what you think in the comments!

And let me know if you want to be on the tag list so you get notified of the next chapter release! (I usually post on Thursday nights, but I may be delayed here and there because of that darn real life thing getting in the way)

Tag List: @numblytemporary @xalphafox @avitute @stormyjane7

[daisyofwaterdeep]

Hi again!🥰 I really like Dammon/Rolan or m!Tav(preferably dragonborn)/Emp, and I do like smut... Maybe you could write something about exploring each other, sensual slow touching?..😌 (I also can write smth for you in return, if you wish😚)

I'm gonna go with the Dammon/Rolan, I haven't played a dragonborn yet or read up on them </3 (and I've had a little idea for the two of the tieflings that's been kicking around since I saw this ask hghghg) (this perhaps isn't as sexy as you had wanted, but my feelings got in the way and it evolved into...this. gomen ;o;) ____ Dammon seems more reserved than usual. He's always so quick to smile, always so eager to help. But now, on this most important day, the tiefling seems reserved, almost skittish. Rolan tries to not let it bother him, but it does. A great deal, in fact.

Rolan ponders the odd behavior as he watches Dammon set out his selection of armor across the table, meticulous as he is with all things. "Don't bother with the chainmail," Rolan comments over Dammon's shoulder, "It will only serve to slow me down. And it chafes something fierce." Dammon looks as if he's going to say something, his tail flicking back in forth and his shoulders tense, but he reluctantly relents and forgoes any heavy armor in his selection. When everything is finally on display, Dammon takes a step to the side, a small, tight smile and an accompanying gesture welcoming Rolan to peruse. "Is this all you have?" Rolan frowns as he comes forward, the four pieces of leather armor not giving him much to look at.

"It is," Dammon wrings his hands in front of himself, watching as Rolan picks up a well worn chest plate and inspects it, "Many been getting ready for the trip, so there's not much left." A weighted silence draws between them before Dammon clears his throat. "So you...Cal and Lia as well..." "Yes," Rolan doesn't wait for him to finish the fumbled question, "We are leaving."

"Yes," Dammon says on a laugh, but it's short and humorless, "Yes of course you are." He shakes his head, as if dislodging a pesky thought, "I suppose if anyone would be able to lead the tieflings to safety, it would be you." Rolan feels an ugly curl of annoyance heat his stomach and knows that his face reflects it. He can understand how impromptu this whole situation is, but sitting idly by isn't going to fix anything. The druids are going to kick them out--that is, if the goblins don't come to slaughter them all first. And yet so many still sit around twiddling their thumbs, as if an answer to their problems will fall miraculously into their laps. The fact that Dammon is amongst this group is a surprise to him. But on top of that, Dammon has the gall to doubt Rolan. It pisses him off. "Speak your mind, Dammon," Rolan sets the armor down and purses his lips as he fights to maintain an even tone, "You obviously have something more you wish to say." Pale blue eyes zip over Rolan's face, fall to the ground, then reluctantly return. Dammon swallows thickly and speaks carefully, slowly, quietly. "I'm just worried. Not just for you, but for all of us." The annoyance building in Rolan's gut fizzles out entirely. There's a tremble in Dammon's voice that makes Rolan ache-- the familiar feeling of uncertainty, of a fear so encompassing that it risks consuming everything if left unchecked.

Rolan takes a quiet moment to rein in the feeling before squaring his shoulders and stepping towards the other tiefling, bringing Dammon's face close to his own. "Come with us," He matches Dammon's low tone, trying to convey some sense of comfort, of confidence, "I'll protect you. I'll protect all of us." Dammon clearly still has more to say, but the words don't come. Instead, warm, calloused hands rest on Rolan's shoulders. The touch is surprising. Rolan and Dammon have always had an amicable sort of relationship-- nods across the grove, light-hearted chats, an undiscussed but not overlooked discount on weapons. Rolan doesn't believe they've ever touched, though, as casual as their companionship has been.

But as those blue eyes look into his own, something seems to click into place for Rolan. There has been something more, hasn't there? Looks that lingered for a beat too long, smiles that turned bashful, tones that could certainly be more than just friendly.

Rolan had been too wrapped up in everything around him that it hadn't occured to him until this very moment.

There's something between them. At some point, Dammon had become his friend. And at some point, those fond feelings had deepened, so naturally and innocuously that Rolan hadn't realized.

Rolan cares for this man. And the heavy, warm feeling of the hands on his shoulders is like a deep, gasping breath, the relief of an ache in his body that he had grown so accustomed to that the pain had stopped registering long ago.

"Dammon," Rolan says it on a soft breath, and it sends a shiver down his spine that tingles into a pleasant heat.

There's a light in Dammon's eyes at that, and those big hands roam down, feeling over the curve of Rolan's chest. Rolan's revelation must be written across his face, because Dammon looks over the moon-- just how long had he waited for Rolan to realize? Far too long, it seems.

There's privacy to consider, and general decorum, but Rolan's been plunged into something so profound that for the first time in his life, he's not worried about appearances. If any of his fellow tieflings are watching his hands grab Dammon's waist, he isn't aware. Nor is he aware of their reactions when he places his forehead against Dammon's, eyes rolling closed as their horns seem to slot perfectly between each other, as if they were made to hold each other close like this.

Two sets of hands roam, over backs, sides, chests, slow and with no purpose other than to feel-- there is an intimacy to it, and though there are warm pulses of arousal that light Rolan's senses, it's not the goal. This gentle exploration is a greeting into their new feelings, wordlessly saying that they are finally, finally on the same page. That the body they are feeling wants to belong to the other-- that it does belong to them, and that it has for a long time.

A distant cry breaks the reverie, however, and Rolan is snapped back to the reality at hand.

"Goblins at the gate!"

There's that ugly fear again, cutting through their shared warmth and collapsing them back into the real world.

But now, Rolan's resolve is able to trample that fear. He's going to protect those important to him-- no matter what it takes.

[freyasilverbough]

The Cave Bear and the White Wolf - Part 3

Notes: in my headcanon and in my games, Minthara is an oathbreaker. I know canonically she’s oath of vengeance, but oathbreaker is more fun and she has a whole dialogue tree about it.

Summary: Freya does stupid shit, like freeing the Moonrise prisoners by herself, and Halsin no likey. Some angst, some fluff, nothing too explicit but heavy making out happens towards the end.

Cw: blood (always atp since my paladins are always covered in blood), canon typical violence, light mentions of suicidal tendencies in that my oc does not give a single fuck about her own life while she’s saving others.

“Hey, Dammon,” Halsin called as he approached the blacksmith.

“Hey, how is she?” Dammon asked as he turned to the larger man, clasping Halsin’s forearm in greeting.

“She’s awake. Wants her armor back.” Dammon chuckled and nodded to where her suit lay on his workbench, polished and free of all the dents that adorned it after the battle yesterday. “You do work fast, impressive.”

“I added some extra reinforcements to the plate. It’s a good set, but there’s too many gaps in it for someone who takes as many hits as Freya does.”

“Actually, I wondered if you might be able to make something,” Halsin said as he pulled the sketchbook he kept from his pocket and handed it to the smith.

Dammon looked the sketches over for a long moment, his brows creasing as he mapped his new project in his head. “Yeah, I think I can manage it. Give me a moment to measure the other set, I have plenty of steel and scraps of scalemail thanks to Talli. Should take me about a week or so.”

Halsin thanked the tiefling as he gathered Freya’s armor and turned back to the inn. “Oh, Dammon?” He called over his shoulder. “Keep it quiet, would you?”

Dammon smirked and nodded his agreement. Halsin smiled to himself, taking long strides back inside to the woman he was trying so hard not to fall for.

————

They were heading for Moonrise that day. Freya was a ball of nerves, wound so tight that he was sure any minor inconvenience would cause her to snap. She was worried that Ketheric might recognize her, and therefore put her newfound friends at risk, so she insisted that everyone wait outside while she went in and “tested the waters.”

Halsin didn’t like it one bit. There were too many things that could go wrong in there, and while he didn’t doubt Freya’s abilities, he also wouldn’t underestimate Ketheric Thorm.

“Take Astarion inside with you at the very least,” he tried to reason with her. She just glared in response. “He knows how to stay hidden and he can back you up if something goes wrong.”

“Remember how you insisted that you were the only one who could enter the Shadowfell? This is like that,” she snapped. “If Ketheric recognizes me, it’s all over. The rest of you have an advantage, he’s got no clue who you are and if I fall, you can still infiltrate the tower. If you’re with me, and things go sideways, he’ll behead you for association before you even know what’s happening. I won’t put anyone here at risk because I failed to kill him a hundred years ago.”

She’d removed her headband and earrings that marked her as a follower of Selûne. Instead of her plated armor, she sported black leather and wore a hood to cover her silver hair. She had left her wolf crest shield in her tent, and striped her face with black kohl to hide the scar over the bridge of her nose. She looked more like an assassin than a paladin.

Halsin ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. The archdruid in him wanted to command her to stay behind, to let the others scout the tower if she was so worried about being recognized. He knew that such a command would just piss her off, that she would never ask another to do something she herself wasn’t willing to do.

The plan was that he would wait just outside the moonshield with Astarion, Gale, and Shadowheart. With the pixie’s blessing, they’d be protected from the curse while the cultists were forced to stay in the light. If Ketheric recognized Freya and she somehow made it out of the tower, Astarion would pick off the cultists with his bow and Gale would open a portal to Last Light, while Shadowheart and Halsin would make sure they all survived.

If Freya made it out. He’d never admit to her that the thought she may not make it made his bones run cold and heart sink to his gut. He wanted to go with her, to protect her, to stand between the oathbreaker and the faithful and give her a chance to flee.

Freya stepped closer to him and looked up into his eyes, a cold determination hardening the blue. “If I fall, be assured that I plan on taking every damned cultist I can down with me.”

“You once told me your brother always said that anything before the word ‘but’ is bullshit,” Halsin echoed her words from the week before.

“But,” a smirk lifted her perfect lips. “I have no intention of dying today. By my oath, I will do everything in my power to see justice come to Ketheric Thorm.”

When she invoked her oath, Halsin knew that there was no more arguing to be done. She stood firm in her choice. All he could do was pray to Silvanus and every other god that would listen that she would return to him.

“Let’s get this over with, then,” he said, clapping her shoulder as he strode to meet the others before departure.

————

Halsin paced just outside the moonshield, watching the huge oak doors of the tower as if he could see through them and glimpse what was happening.

“Would you settle down? You’re making all of us dizzy,” Astarion whined from the stump he perched on, carving new arrows with his knife.

Halsin ignored him and carried on as he was.

“Don’t be an ass, Astarion. It’s giving you wrinkles,” Shadowheart quipped.

Halsin stopped his pacing when bells sounded from the tower and he heard the faint shouts of the guards. His breath caught in his throat as he stopped just in front of the moonshield.

He strained his ears, hearing the faint clashing of swords from inside the tower.

Freya.

If there was fighting, she was alive. Halsin breathed a sigh of relief before that relief quickly turned to panic. Who was she fighting? What was she doing? Freya was formidable, to be sure, but one soldier against an entire stronghold? She’d either had no choice, or she was completely mad.

The oak doors at the tower’s entrance blew open with an explosion of silver moonfire, and out poured a host of gnomes, tieflings, and…

Was that Minthara?

Freya followed close behind, covered once again in blood and glowing with the rush of battle. Her hood had fallen and her braids swung wildly behind her. She pulled something from her pocket and launched it toward Astarion as the gnomes and tieflings ran across the bridge.

“Tell the pixie to protect the prisoners from the curse! HURRY!” She screamed as he caught it. Halsin vaguely registered Astarion following her order, but his focus was on her. Minthara stood with her as the prisoners fled from the battle. The drow had no weapon, but she had a paladin’s magic and was using it to compel foes to halt, flee, drop their weapons as Freya struck them down.

Gale muttered incantations under his breath as purple magic began to swirl around him. A portal appeared, and Shadowheart ushered the prisoners through to safety. Astarion drew his bow and fired as Freya and Minthara sprinted across the bridge. One of the guards dodged Astarion’s arrow at the last second and reached out to grab Freya by the braids, and Halsin decided he’d had enough.

He let the earth guide him as he shifted, fur and claws erupting where there were once skin and hands. He leapt over the two women and tore out the guard’s throat, letting loose a roar of fury. When the drow crossed the portal, Freya slid to a stop and approached to stand at Halsin’s side.

“Well. I may have started a bit of a fight,” she said as more guards poured through the doors. “We should probably go.” Halsin shifted back to his elven form and grabbed Freya’s hand, the two of them sprinting through Gale’s portal.

Halsin stumbled as his feet touched the ground outside Last Light, and Freya landed on her hands and knees. Reunions and celebrations were happening all around them, but he couldn’t bring himself to gaze at anything but Freya. She sat back on her heels, tilted her face to the sky, and laughed. Cackled like a godsdamned madwoman, covered in her enemies’ blood and viscera. Perhaps she’d taken a pommel to the head.

“Fucking hells, that felt good,” she said between her laughs, trying and failing to catch her breath. Halsin leveled a glare in her direction. “Oh come on now, they were taking Minthara to the cells to erase her mind. I was on a time crunch,” she said to him.

“Yeah, that’s another thing we’re going to talk about. Minthara, Freya? I thought she was dead!” Halsin tried to keep his voice level, but his anger raised the volume.

“I thought she was too, turns out she’s tougher than I thought.” Freya got to her feet and crossed her arms in defiance, as if she didn’t just save the drow who’d threatened his grove not two months before.

“She’s an oathbreaker, Freya. She’ll slit your throat in your sleep now that you’ve set her free. What in all the Nine Hells were you thinking?!”

“They’re arguing about me, aren’t they?” He heard the drow ask someone behind him. It took every ounce of will he possessed to keep from turning his wrath on her.

“Don’t worry, Freya always wins him over. She has a thing for taking in strays,” Astarion responded.

“She’s an oathbreaker, yes, but you’ll make one of me if you ask me to send her back to the shadows. She was controlled by the tadpole when she planned to take the grove, a fate I would’ve faced myself were it not for blind, stupid luck. Minthara is a valuable asset whose goals align with our own, for now. If she turns on us, I’ll cut her down myself.” Freya’s tone quickly turned from exuberant to commanding as she spoke, returning Halsin’s glare and spreading her stance.

“You would die in the attempt, but it’s a noble thought,” Minthara retorted. Halsin whipped around to face the drow and Freya circled him so she stood between them, gripping her sword as she did.

“I don’t like her either, Halsin, but I must hold to the tenets of my oath and I must accept every sword I am offered in this fight.” Freya’s gaze softened just a fraction and Halsin knew she was right. Fuck, but she could talk him into biting off his own hand if she wanted.

He looked over Freya’s shoulder to the drow. “The first sign of trouble, and you’re gone,” he said to her.

“Oh, I intend to cause plenty, but only for our enemies.”

————

Back at camp, Halsin’s whittling turned into a pile of slivers in his frustration. He was still so angry with Freya, she was only meant to “test the waters,” as she had said. Instead, the woman took it upon herself to tackle an entire stronghold by herself.

He knew she would do it all over again to save those prisoners, and he couldn’t exactly fault her for it. He didn’t know the exact words of her oath, but he knew that most paladins were bound to defend the innocent. The tenets of her oath would always come above her own safety, and something about that fact aggravated him to no end. Did she just not value her own life the way she valued others?

She materialized before him as if she could read his thoughts. She leaned on a tree and bit down on an apple, without a care in the world. She wore a sleeveless cotton top that accentuated every curve and muscle of her lithe torso and dipped low into her cleavage. Her moonlight hair was unbound and she’d washed the black from her face.

She looked like a godsdamned angel, and that just made Halsin angrier.

“You’re upset,” she stated, taking another bite of her apple.

Halsin took a deep breath, willing his centuries of training in patience to kick in and chase the rage from his bones. “Yes,” he responded.

“Look, I made a call in the moment. I’ve spoken with Minthara, and I believe she’ll stand with us against the Absolute. They scarred her mind, and she wants vengeance. If you talked with her yourself, you’d believe her, too.”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about Minthara.”

“Then why the fuck are you sulking in the farthest corner of camp?” Halsin stood, stalking toward Freya like she was his prey. She pushed off of her tree and straightened, crossing her arms and widening her stance. The movement made her biceps ripple and her breasts pushed together slightly. Halsin pretended that his cock didn’t twitch at the sight.

He didn’t stop until he was inches away from her. “I’m sulking because you asked - no, demanded - that everyone else stay behind while you went on a fucking suicide mission, Freya. You put yourself at risk again and I cannot figure out how someone with such high regard for others can regard her own life so little. It was stupid, and you know it. I thought we were past this recklessness, that you would finally ask me for help, and then you go and pull this shit without a thought for how your friends would feel having to burn your body.”

“Don’t you dare act as if you were there. You didn’t see what they were doing in that prison, Halsin.”

“I didn’t see because you forced me to stay behind!” He yelled. “I wasn’t there because you always insist on standing alone!”

“What would you have me fucking do?! I am somehow responsible for each of the lives in this camp, for each of the souls in Last Light. I’ve been fighting for well over two hundred years, I trust in my own strength even if-“

Halsin couldn’t help it. He took her face in both hands and crashed his lips to hers. She stiffened in his grip for a moment, then melted into his kiss, molding herself to his body. She was a perfect fit. She put both of her small, calloused hands on his chest as one of his own traveled to her waist. He gripped her side as he groaned slightly into her full lips, feeling the ridges of her scars under her shirt. She opened her mouth for him, and their tongues danced in a battle for dominance.

It was not a sweet kiss, nor a gentle one. He wound the hand that had been cupping her cheek into her long hair, wrapping it around his fist. He moved her back against the tree and the hand on her side inched up to her breast as she moaned into his mouth. It was the sweetest godsdamned sound Halsin had ever heard.

All reason and restraint had left his body in that moment. His reasons for declining her offer at the party with the tieflings simply melted away. As he kissed Freya against that tree, there was no Shadow Curse, no invulnerable general, no tadpole swimming in her skull. There was only her.

That fierce, kind, compassionate, reckless woman whose loyalty had no match, whose strength could challenge gods and rattle the stars. He’d taken many lovers, always held that his heart roamed as nature willed it, but he knew without a doubt as he held her that she was it for him. Whether she would have him or not, there would never be another.

Reluctantly, he broke their kiss and pressed his forehead to hers, staring into her bright blue eyes. Both of them were breathless, and he could smell her arousal as his cock stretched the leather of his pants.

“I wish you could see yourself as I do,” he whispered, before gripping her thighs and hoisting her up to his height. She wrapped her legs around his hips and bared her neck for him in a rare show of vulnerability as his lips wrapped around her soft flesh. His teeth moved their way up to her delicate pointed ear and she ground herself into him with a loud sigh of pleasure.

He was ready to burst in his pants like an adolescent when a call from Astarion interrupted them. “Freya! Quit fucking the bear, there’s a devil in our camp again, and it’s not Minthara.”

She broke away from him, panting and thoroughly flushed. “I’m going to fucking kill him,” she murmured. Halsin chuckled and nipped at her throat before releasing his hold on her. He smoothed her hair with his hand and pressed a kiss to her forehead. She smelled like rosemary and thunderstorms, he realized as he took a deep inhale.

“Next time I risk my own hide in an epic act of heroism, I expect to be thoroughly fucked, druid,” she said in a sing song voice as she turned to hurry back to where an alleged devil waited to meet with her.

He chuckled to himself as he adjusted his breeches, and jogged to catch up with her. He was in such deep shit.

————

The devil in question was Wyll’s patron, Mizora. She’d appeared to inform Wyll that he needed to rescue one of Zariel’s assets from Moonrise. Freya agreed on Wyll’s behalf, stating that they’d do it only if Mizora freed her warlock from his pact.

The damn woman would argue with a devil. Currently, she sat with Minthara on a log, handing her the weapons they’d gathered from their travels for inspection. The flaming sword she’d picked up on the nautiloid was too big, the mace from under the creche too small, the shortsword from the goblin camp downright insulting.

Freya smirked as she passed the drow a Menzoberranzan blade she’d looted from a drider. Minthara stood, gripping the hilt with finesse and testing its balance. “Finally, good drow steel. This will do,” she said. Freya retrieved her own sword and started sharpening it with her whetstone. Halsin watched as the two women fell into an easy camaraderie, honing their weapons and talking of battles won, foes vanquished.

May all the gods above have mercy on Ketheric Thorm, for the elf and the drow would not.

[lynnlovesthestars]

The Vault.- Work in Progress page.

Hi, welcome to my work in progress page, where I'll update with the status of the current pieces I'm writing, and to give a sneak peak on what's coming up.

When im mentioning OC, im always referring to my oc @wisterialynn

Status: I (Idea), W (Writing), E (Editing), B (Beta reading), T (To post), P (or strikethroughed, posted)

Genre: DDDNE (Dead dove), A (Angst), F (fluff), S (Smut), H (Hurt no comfort), C (hurt with comfort)

It includes requests

Astarion:

Untitled (Astarion x reader), where reader gets gravely injured and Astarion doesn't like it. W C F

Pretending pt. 3 (Astarion x reader) After a night of cuddles, waking up in an empty bed feels oddly wrong. W C F

Pretending pt. 4 (Astarion x reader) the shadowcurse is way more dangerous than what it seems H W

Little bump (Astarion x reader), dadstarion headcanon T F

request (Astarion x A Tav who rides a very large wyvern, with them having a bond similar to Daenerys and Drogon or Daemon and Caraxes from GOT/HOTD??) W

request (Could I ask for a Astarion x Durge!Tav I've done 2 Durge playthoughs and wish , which ever companion you romance has a reaction when Durge rejects to be bhasls chosen and gets killed but brought back to life by withers [...]) E

Untitled (Astarion x reader) teaching magic to Astarion F I

Bloodshift (Astarion x oc):

Untitled (Astarion x OC) Dddne, oc has gone through some harsh things for the past 4 years, and he has doubtful ways of coping. DDDNE, H, I

Untitled (Astarion x OC) where oc has a gift for Astarion, but he didn't think it through, featuring the couple rings you find in the graveyard near moonrise towers. C W

Untitled. (Astarion x OC) modern au, where Astarion has had a crush on oc for a long time, but does the wrong thing and almost fucks it up. W C

Untitled (Astarion x OC) college au, Artist !oc and best friend! art model! Astarion C W

Rooftops (Astarion x OC). What if they met after the fall of the netherbrain? C T

Nightmares. (Astarion x OC), study of their nightmares and their backgrounds, written in parallel. T C

Untitled. (Astarion x OC), where one can't hide anymore that they have to be caught in the middle of compromising moments, ft. oc background mentions S T

Untitled (Astarion x OC) Guardian angel au. I

Untitled (Astarion x OC) Background study of OC's trauma, ft smut. S E

Untitled (Astarion x OC) study of oc trauma, ft. hurt comfort. C W

Untitled (Astarion x OC) Miniseries walking through their relationship and rewriting scenes from the main game based on how oc would react. I

Holidays (Astarion x OC), for the holiday challenge on ao3, where the two lovers confront the fact that they have lost a lot since the last moment of peace they had. (W C

Karlach:

Untitled (Karlach x reader) finally you get to touch Karlach how she deserves. Inspired by the dialogue in act one- which is bugged in my run so i can do it over n over again) S W

Letters (Karlach x Dammon) title is self explanatory. F W

Untitled (Karlach x ??) Karlach has a twitter gossip account in anon and plays matchmaker. Modern au, socmed au, (Current plan for next milestone to recruit one reader's oc?) I

Wyll:

masquerade (Wyll x reader) meeting at a masquerade and falling in love I

Gale:

Untitled (Gale x reader). The netherbrain has been defeated and only the gods know if you'll survive the fall. W C

Untitled (Gale x reader), you are low on magic items, so you look for alternatives to help your wizard crush. W S

this kiss https://youtu.be/d-QO55xmS5A?si=8Zup_Dgz0iroNNgt W F

Jaheira:

Untitled (Jaheira x reader) sequel of dinner is served. S I

Shadowheart:

Untitled. (Shadowheart x reader) there's only one goddess in the shar temple until you kneel betweet her legs and the Lady of Loss is forgotten. S W

Laezel:

Shattered. (Lae'zel x reader). Vlaakith broke her heart, and it's you that has to pick up the pieces. C W

Halsin:

tbt

Minsc:

tbt

Other:

request (Could I request headcanons for Harleep, Astarion, Gale, Wyll, Halsin, Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor with kind and patient gn s/o? This is quite self-indulgent of me because I have been told I'm too nice & so patient so I'm curious how they would react XD) W

request (Could you do a separate scenario thing with the companions(Astarion, Gale, Wyll, Halsin, Karlach, Shadowheart, and Lae’zel) The scenario I was thinking of is Tav who’s married to the companions(separate) is arguing with their child in another room about Uno.) W

[rolansrighthorn]

About Me📌

Want to join a BG3 discord? Join here! 18+ ONLY! (300+ users strong as of 02/08/2024! Link also updated!) Click here to join a BG3 Fanart and Fanfic server!

Like my writing? Help support me at my Ko-Fi here!

Click here to check out Durge x Gale clips I upload.

Click here to check out my Cameo video I requested from Mr. Taylor asking about Rolan's love language, ideal date, and pet names!

Click here to check out my Cameo video I requested from Elliot Francis asking about Gerladus' love language, ideal date, and pet names!

My Writings:

Click here to read "A Second Chance at Love", my Penelope (Tav) x Rolan chapters (3 parts)(NSFW)(FINISHED)

Click here to read "Only Together, With You", my Daryna (OC) x Rolan chapters (long fic, approximated to have 20 chapters when finished.)(NSFW)(ON-GOING)

Click here to read "Love Language", my Lotte (OC) x Rolan chapters (angst, fluff)(1/3 parts published)(SFW)(FINISHED)

Check out my Rolan headcanons here.

Check out my Dammon headcanons here.

Check out my Zevlor headcanons here.

Check out my tiefling headcanons here.

My et cetera:

Click here to view all of my own posts.

Click here to view my (slightly active) twitter.

Click here to view my Carrd (basically same info as here).

Welcome to yet another one of my sideblogs.

Basics: Cal| '94| MN,USA|

I follow/like from my main, felixschokehold. I have another sideblog for books, which is threshholdofescape.

But, you’re here to see which games I play, since it is indeed the theme of this blog. 

The Last of Us Remastered/Part 1

The Last of Us Part 2

Baldur’s Gate 3

Skyrim

Elder Scrolls Online

Red Dead Redemption 2

Detroit: Become Human

For more information, click to see!

I have played the TLOU series multiple times and replay them frequently. My favorite characters are Joel Miller and Abby Anderson. 

I have not finished Baldur’s Gate 3. I have done a slightly evil gen tav (Skotadi) playthrough romancing Astarion, which got to Act III. However, Act III is quite wonky and I was really frothing at the mouth to do a good gen tav (Elise) x Gale romance playthrough, which I have started and am currently in Act II (as of Oct. 21, 2023). Gale is my favorite, and I will delve deeper into my BG3 beginnings in a seperate post at... some point in time.

Skyrim and Elder Scrolls Online are more casual for me. I have not been on ESO in a couple years, but if I find a group maybe I’ll hop back on! In both, I play a high elf mage. I have never married anyone, I am always content to have a happy, platonic love with Serana.

I have played RDR2 only once. I did a “good” playthrough and the story destroyed my soul in such a severe way that I have not been able to do another playthrough several years later. I love the game, I love the story, and I do plan to do another playthrough one day. My favorite characters are Arthur and Sean.

I have played Detroit: Become Human a couple times, but have tended to stick with the "good" choices. I would like to do a "bad" playthrough, but we will see! My favorite character is Connor, and everyone else is on the back burner.

This post will be edited and adjusted as time goes on. Thanks for dropping by!

[ask-karlachbear]

"So I heard through the grapevines that Mama K is deciding to be a bit of a matchmaker, huh~?" Daniel teases, giving the Tiefling a playful nudge, "Haven't been able to work up the courage to confess to Dammon yet, and so you've decided to meddle in othe people's love life, huh~?" The wolfish grin told her that all his jabbing was in good fun, with only the kind of devilish scheming that a someone could have about their siblings. "I jest: though...I do have to say, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious about your thoughts on me and one of our companions~"

((OMG, LYNN~!!! Congrats on hitting 100+ Followers~!!! So excited for you for hitting that firsr milestone! Since you're doing the Matchmaker special event as celebration, I'd figured I'd join in and give my congrats Cx Besides, I always love having an excuse to ramble about my characters xDDD

I figured doing Daniel would be a good one, since I've thrown him out your way before, and you've probably seen a little bit of what he is like from some of the other Bg3 blogs. Because all his info might be a bit much to write all down here, I have a bit about him on this post!

Congrats once again, and blessings to your growth and happiness~! -Medly))

"EHI EHI, no need to call me out so loudly" She laughed loudly. "Though I'm trying do to it right, you know?" She elbows him playfully.

"Anyways this might be counterproductive for me, but I see you'd work well with Dammon. He's a lovely, charming, caring, resourceful, talented, resilient, generous, coragious, loyal, reliable, honest, genuine, considerate, passionate.... you got it, right?

(THANK YOU SO MUCH SWEETNESS, I APPRECIATE THIS SO MUCH, AND SORRY FOR THE SHORT ANSWER BUT AS YOU SEE KARLACH IS GONE LISTING THINGS ABOUT DAMMON AHAH.. Also I loved your post about Daniel, he has such a interesting story i *chef kiss* thank u again and sending u back a big hug<3)

[forgeofthenine]

I also wish to simp over the tieflings😁

So I have a question for you. In your opinion, which would be the fittest class for being each tieflings batchelor partner?

My best friend and I were playing bg3 yesterday (both sipping for Dammon so the conversation was more focused on him) and the question came out.

My bf defended that for our fav blacksmith a paladin would be the best option for going on a date. Cause they're usually loyal to their beliefs, tend to have a kind nature and they're always in need of good armor and weapons. It was paladin for her.

But I differ. I firmly believe that a nice ✨Bard✨ would be the correct answer. And here's why:

1. Dammon is a kind, polite and (probably) organised soul. Most bards have chaotic energy. I believe that a bard partner would be a nice influence on him and vice-versa. He calming his partner when they get too overexcited and them trying to get him out of his comfort zone.

2. They're both artists in a way. I think that a bard would admire and see the beauty in Dammon's job. Maybe even getting curious about it, ask him questions and see him work. He would be so happy. And also Dammon would admire and enjoy the Bard's music, singing, drawing, etc. (whatever bardic gift you got people, it doesn't matter to him. He'll love it)

3. We all know Dammon reads smut and I sincerely cannot picture a more smut reading class than a bard. Like I can perfectly see the scene of the bard discovering "A pleasurable deal" (I think that's the name of it, if not I apologise) and being totally chill about it, read a few pages with all the calm in the world and Dammon finding them out, grabbing the book terribly ashamed of it... Just to see them mock him a little bit to finally say "Hey and if when you finished with it you need any recommendations I have a few that might interest you". (Insert all the fantasy young adult with spice novels here)

And finally but not last:

4. (And this is a more personal one) I have the personal belief that if you play a bard you are personifying the need of a traumatised being who always tries to feel better through music and a charismatic behaviour while being in need of a found family even if you're in denial. I might be wrong, it might be me who plays bards this way but it's just a single theory I have.

But guess what, we're having a Bard here. And what better option to have a family with than Dammon.

I REST MY CASE! THANKS FOR YOUR TIME.

🤣🤣🤣But really, I would like to hear your opinion on this debate. If you had to choose what would it be and why?

(All classes are equally nice and fitting, no hate here to any of them👌🏻)

I know that this got long ah so thanks for reading it. I love your blog and I hope that everything goes perfectly well on your day-to-day. Byeee!!💛💛💛💛

🎻- Anon

This is actually a very fun question because I've never actually thought about matching people based on classes.

I agree with both of you that either a paladin or a bard would definitely work well with Dammon thematically. However, I raise the option of him being with an artificer. While I love opposites attract tropes, Dammon is a fiercely proud and passionate man, his dedication to his work is enough to scare off almost anyone. So, who would work best with such a wonderful but independent man? Someone who understands his thinking on a fundamental level. An artificer that knows what it is to be an artisan, to dedicate yourself to 'making', to spend late nights working on various blueprints. I just feel like he'd work well with someone that understands him and doesn't fault his dedication to his work.

For Zevlor, I'm a big supporter of the Zevlor x cleric idea. I feel like as a paladin, having him with a cleric just works so well thematically. He's a paladin who believes himself to be disgraced and what's better to help 'bring him back to the light' and support him other than someone else that understands his relationship with his patron god and his intense need to protect everyone. It's easier to accept help from someone that you feel understands your issues, and I feel like being with a cleric just really suits Zevlor.

Rolan with a sorcerer. That's it. Imagine the sass, the cat fights, the endless bickering before they even realise they're attracted to each other. Rolan definitely does the whole 'sorcerors just can't control their magic and tried to make it a thing', specially with a wild magic user. It never quite ends either, even after years of seeing each other Cal and Lia still walk in on their little sarcasm spats. I don't feel like there's a deeper reason to this, other than the fact I feel like Rolan had very little guidance in learning magic (much like a sorcerer might) and is doing a bit of light projection to start with.

So here's my humble opinions, I'd love to hear everyone else's and I hope everyone is having a lovely day <3

[drudragonrose]

Baldur's Gate 3 Custom Characters

The Heros ~

Sestri ~ Matched to Karlach

Age ~ 35

Race ~ Asmodeus Tiefling

Class ~ Artificer ~ Battle Smith

Life before the tadpole ~

Sestri ran from Avernus along with the other Teifling, She worked with Dammon in the forge but had been there longer. Long enough to lose her legs in an accident. The others in the forge made new legs for her and accommodated her as she learned to use them to get around. She learned then started to improve upon them. Her legs make it so she can go further than most but they will always clank or make the sound of heavy footfalls making it so you can hear Sestri coming before you see her. She learned to work with Infernal Iron which is a passion for her. Transfem.

Personality ~

She’s a hyper orange cat type, always rushing to see what she can study or repurpose. She will always say what she means, even if it hurts someone’s feelings. She’s not trying to be mean but she just doesn’t see the point in sugarcoating. That and she’s a horrible liar, it would be the only time that she stammers and seems unsure of herself. Well, one of the only times. Karlach also brings her to a loss of words.

Lavender ~ Matched to Shadowheart

Age ~ 46

Race ~ Half Elf, Half Drow

Class ~ Paladin of Salune ~ Oath of Devotion

Life before the Tadpole ~

Lavender was doing recondense work for her enclave. Even before she knew what it was, there was a large influx of people that seemed to change faith overnight. She had vowed her sword to Salune and no one can shake her from her belief though she is a bit unique about it. Because of her drow mother, she believes that without Shar there would be no Salune for they are the dark and light side of the moon. It’s what drew her to Shadowheart in the first place. That and the fact that the woman needed more help than she was letting on. She lived with her elven mother, her drow mother having gone back to the Underdark a long time ago. Lavender hopped that she got off easy but she knew that the woman was most likely dead given what she knew of Drow culture.

Personality ~

She can come off as brash at times but with a winning smile and a joke she can play it off. Like the moon that she warships she has a darkside that she works to keep in check. She isn’t foolish about it though, sometimes for peace there must be war. There is a calculating side to her that she used to the benefit of those on her side. She can be pushy when she thinks she’s right and stubborn to a fault like a steamroller when she has set her sights on someone.

Iris ~ Matched to Astarion (Spawn)

Age ~ 150

Race ~ Glasya Tiefling Dhampir

Class ~ Warlock ~ Hexblade

Before the Tadpole~

She was the personal guard to the archdevil Megara, a powerful necromancer and an advisor to Asmodeus.  Her father was a vampire lord who wanted to use her to replace his lost love. She signed the deal with a devil to get away from her father and creator. Megara gave Iris her sword and her new look. She was working on hunting down a devil that stood to go against the tyrant of the Hells. She had almost found his place in Balder’s Gate when she was kidnapped.

Personality ~

Iris has one master and make that abundantly clear. Rebellious by nature with the poise to back it up. She had a talent for causing chaos. As bombastic as she is, Iris doesn’t like to be in the spotlight. She learned something from her days as a lord’s daughter. Intelligence is her game and she is good at it. Iris knows how to talk to others in order to gain secrets from them. With all her skills in manipulation, which only grew with her time in the Nine Hells, she tries to her best to be honest with the people that she’s close to.

Tsubaki ~ Matched to Gale (Human)

Age ~ 40

Race ~ Wood/ Astral Elf

Class ~ Cleric of Mystra Lurue

Before the Tadpole ~

Tsubaki comes from a family touched by the divine. While her grandmother was druid, her mother had turned her talents to healing through The Weive. She said her vows to Mystra and used her blessings to take care of the people in the small town she had lived in outside of Neverwinter. She was on her way to Balder’s Gate on a feeling that she got. There was trouble and her goddess wanted her to look into it it was on her way that she was snatched up.

Personality ~

Tsubaki is endlessly giving both to her benefit and her detriment. She loves to cook and make potions. Anything to sustain those around her. She’s the type to give someone a bigger piece of a sandwich to someone else. The whole of it if she sees their need is greater. She takes people at her word but, even with the short time that she’s been outside her village, knows to keep a wiery eye on them until proven wrong.

Opal ~ Matched to Wyll (Blade of Avernus)

Age ~ 24

Race ~ Styx Tiefling

Class ~ Collage of Spirits Bard

Before the Tadpole ~

Opal comes from a family that lived on the River Styx. Her heritage allows them to be able to map out the chaotic river and be immune to the river’s effects. Even when she’s not on the waters, guiding souls to their hereafter, she can see spirits which happens when the gift is particularly strong in her bloodline. She can also get visions of the past when she touches things or people. She was following a trail set by spirit who could not move on until a great wrong was set right. The tadpole has broken down some of the barriers that she had been able build up, making her powers more erratic for a while.

Personality ~

She gives off the appearance of being quite spacy but she is observant to the point that it can be insulting at times. She loves music and will often hum to herself when nothing is going on. She cultivates a persona of being soft-spoken until she’s cornered or has to perform, She will always give a small song while on a river or ocean as a beacon for those dead while on the water.

Thempeth ~ Matched to Ly’zel

Age ~ 39

Race ~ Amaphyst  Dragonborn

Class ~ Way of the Four Elements Monk

Before the Tadpole ~

The dragonborn came from a high mountain top where the Order of the Jade Dragon. Those who can find it are welcome to train in their ways. Thempeth was allowed to travel after she completed her training and she started her mission to learn from everyone she came across. She experienced the world’s cruelty and its kindness. She chose to try and help as much as possible to keep the scale that seems to be ever tipping towards darkness. Investigating a disappearance is what lead her on the path to Moonrise before she was picked up.

Personality ~

She a chipper soul, just happy to be alive. She does take her physicality and the balance within herself very seriously. Being dragonborn she doesn’t really understand human emotions though she does try and empathise. She lives for coffee and is a rather grumpy dragon without it.

Sunako ~ Matched to Halsin

Age ~175

Race ~ Astral Elf

Class ~ Star Druid

Before the Tadpole ~

The family line is blessed by Lurue, goddess of magic and healing. Sunko was taught to go were the stars guide her which lead her to Moonrise at the moment of the first war against Kethric Thorm. She had been much younger then and much more inexperienced. She vowed to come back when the time was right and finish what was started. She diudn’t expect to run into her granddaughter along the way, more over she didn’t expect to meet up with Helsin again.

Personality ~

The stars rule her, the moon is her guide. Because of how she grew up she’s detached from others but she does care in her own way. Fiercely protective of those she considers her family, she has to be with the dangers in the Astral. While she tries not to show it she’s a bit sensitive about her looks, wrinkles and age having caught up to her all at once when she crossed over to the Material.

[tadfools]

Chapter 3 of The One That Got a Thay is hot off the presses here!

I've put a little bit of it under the cut, also thank you guys for getting 1,600 hits in the first week of it being up xx

“Giant biting flies, midges –” Astarion groaned, swiping at the air around his face theatrically, “Ugh! Shouldn’t nature be beautiful and serene? It looks so nice in the Upper City parks.”

“Upper City, huh? Swish.” Karlach responded as she hooked her arm under a branch and lifted it, letting the others pass under its canopy before it swayed back into place. The leaves closest to her skin curled in on themselves from the proximity of her engine. “Never spent much time there myself.”

“I’ll happily take you.” Astarion nodded in silent thanks to her as he passed under the raised branch, “If we survive this bugs’ banquet.”

She smiled at that, “Sounds good. I’ve always been curious what a patriar loo looks like.” Despite his foul mood, Karlach was admiring at the scenery around them much more openly than Tavaris was. If it hadn’t recently rained and everything wasn’t a verdant green, she would have been worried that her friend might end up starting a forest fire.

Karlach would hover her hand over the bark nearly all of the trees or clusters of ivy they passed. Wanting so desperately to ruffle every leaf she could find with her hands but too afraid that they might be damaged afterwards. Hopefully, Dammon would be able to help them again after he finally got to Baldur’s Gate.

“Patriar?” Tavaris looked to Shadowheart as the other two carried on their conversation.

“The relatively noble families that make up the aristocracy in the city.” She clarified. Tavaris had learned two new things within the span of five minutes, maybe the day wasn’t so bad after all.

Despite Shadowheart’s own lack of memory, she was normally the one Tavaris would turn to when everyone knew something that she clearly didn’t. It was always met with a knowing look or a smile, sometimes a slight nod and then the explanation would follow. There was no ridicule in Shadowheart’s tone whenever she obliged – just quiet understanding.

The troop were greeted with a crumbling lichen infested stone wall as they rounded an obscenely large tree. A break in it was just big enough for them all to squeeze through, though not without the banging of a horn against the stones. Ahead of them was the echoes of goblin laughter and what could have been mistaken as the creaking of a windmill had Tavaris’ ears never heard the sounds of a gnome’s scream before.

“Ah finally! Civilization!” Astarion sighed not picking up on, or not caring about, the yells as he moved to the side before for Karlach popped through the gap in the wall, nearly landing on him. Instinctually, Tavaris held on a hand to help her stand.

Karlach looked at it wide eyed for a moment before giving her the biggest smile she had seen from the tiefling yet. Nothing was said as she shook her head softly – still grinning as she pushed herself up from the impacted earth. The small purple flowers nestled right next to where Karlach’s hand braced her fall had blackened from the proximity to her.

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Shadowheart said, peering around the corner of the building closest to them, “The whole village is falling to pieces. These goblins aren’t exactly house proud, as occupiers go.”

“Wouldn’t blame the gobs.” Karlach followed her lead, “Whole place looks like it’s been abandoned a good while. But hey, maybe we can scare up a few dusty bottles of wine somewhere.”