#Baldur’s gate fanfic

[fatale-distraction]

How about #4 "How can you not understand how much I love you?"

More Barcus because he’s my little king. I also went into the character creator and made Lithe! Wish there were more long braid options, but alas I am on PS5, not PC, so no mods.

Also sorry the line is a little different from the prompt. I wrote this from memory during a slow point at work today, so I didn’t remember it exactly right. 🤣

"How could you ever doubt that I love you?" Lithe demanded.

Barcus gave a wry snort. "Is that supposed to be a joke?"

"Do I look like I'm fucking laughing?" She crossed her arms over her chest and fixed the gnome with a look that had frequently sent even Astarion looking for somewhere else to cause trouble. Barcus however, held his ground admirably.

"Well, let's just see, shall we?" he tilted his chin up in defiance. "You're a beautiful elven woman who murders evil-doers for fun, and I'm, what? A useless little gnome who can't take two steps without being kidnapped and isn't even worth enough to his own oldest friend to keep around."

"Wulbren. Is. A. Cunt." Lithe punctuated each word by tapping the knife-edge of one hand into the palm of the other. "Elistraee's divine merciful tits, you're so caught up with him you can't even see your own worth!"

"Maybe he's right!" Barcus cried, throwing his hands up.

"Maybe doves will fly out of my ass," came the sarcastic retort, at which Barcus scoffed. "I mean it, you're wonderful! You're clever and funny and brave--"

"Ha!" the smaller man puffed himself up. "Brave! You're the one chasing down mad cultists and stabbing at giant monsters, or whatever it is you do. I just..." he gestured helplessly toward the little workbench he’d set up on the corner of the inn. "Sit here and…tinker."

Lithe sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She could argue with him until the sun went down and came back up again, but he was as stubborn as she was. The elf took a deep breath and slung her bow off her shoulder, knocking an arrow in almost the same motion. The gnome's eyes widened a bit and he took a step back.

"See that spider on the wall over there?" she pointed.

Barcus squinted. There was a tiny dark blob on a plank across the room, just above Rolan’s head. "Sort of."

Without taking her eyes off of him, Lithe pulled and shot her arrow. Barcus followed the arrow's flight and watched it sink deep into the wall with a dull thunk. The dark blob was now a little blobbier. Several people screamed, including Rolan, between whose horns the arrow had arced perfectly. Jaheira rose from where she’d hit the deck and shouted “Stop shooting arrows in my inn!”

Lithe ignored her. “Dead center. You can check if you’d like.”

"I wouldn't like," the gnome shook his head and began to wonder if picking a fight with such a terrifying woman had been such a clever idea.

"Barcus," she said evenly as she holstered her bow again, the inn’s occupants glaring at her and muttering. "I was born and raised to fight the worst this world has to offer and then some. I've trained for this kind of thing for a hundred years. Literally one hundred. Going after monsters is what I DO. That's not bravery, that's a Wednesday."

"I don't think you're making the point you think you're making."

Lithe held deceptively small hands out imploringly. "You're an artificer. Your area of expertise is libraries and workshops, not beasties and wilderness. But you took off into the unknown anyway, for the sake of your friend. You survived goblins and ghouls and slave labor at the hands of duergar and drow and crossed through the Shadowlands, all because you love someone so much you can't bear the thought of them facing such dangers alone. Barcus, that is so very brave I can't even stand it. Very brave, and very stupid, but it's an admirable kind of stupid."

Barcus crossed his arms over his chest and leveled an exasperated look at her. "Have you often been told you're terrible at declarations of love?"

"Quite often."

He sighed. He rubbed a hand down his face and sighed again. Lithe waited patiently.

“I absolutely hate it when you do this, but..." With world-weary reluctance, he lifted his arms. Lithe squealed and snatched him up into a bone-breaking hug, snuggling into the crook of his neck. Barcus tried not to squirm too much and let himself enjoy the way her breasts smushed against his torso. "You're a good girl," he muttered fondly, stroking her soft, herbal-scented hair. He very much enjoyed the little laugh and slight shiver that coursed through her, and tucked that interesting bit of information away for later.

"I'm not a girl, I'm a lady," she insisted playfully as she set him back down.

"A woman maybe, but certainly not a lady," Barcus grumbled, making a great show of straightening his clothes out. She may have been a proper adult at 110, but he was a good thirty years her senior. Not an unreasonable difference when one lived to be four hundred or more, but at least enough to tease someone about.

"I can punt you just as easily as I did Wulbren," she reminded him with a sweet smile as she turned to wander back out into the common area of the inn. Several nosy heads disappeared from around the corners and one person had the audacity to actually whistle innocently. Apparently her show with the arrow had drawn the patrons’ attention to their little drama. Barcus shook his head.

"Lithe, wait..." he called before he could think better of it. She paused and turned with a mild look of surprise and curiousity. "I...I care about you, too. Really, I do,” he promised earnestly. “I just need a little time, I think."

Lithe smiled sadly at him and continued on her way. Too late Barcus realized time was one thing she definitely didn’t have.

[faundlydreaming]

BG3 Fic Feb Day 8

Another entry for Faerunian 29 Days of Writing Challenge! Today’s prompt is “It will be okay as long as we’re together.” You can find it here: https://www.tumblr.com/mishtress/741020158351589376/i-have-such-excited-news-everyone-were-only-a?source=share

This entry delves into Fi’s painful past full of betrayal, bullying, and torment, and the idea of making new connections despite the fear she feels from the mere idea of it. Astarion makes an unexpected appearance and helps to change her narrative, even if a little bit. It also has banter. Lots of banter, I swear that’s their love language. Enjoy!

Fi stared above at the stars, appreciating that the darkness enveloped her just enough to obscure her pinched expression of frustration. Tonight she had decided to sleep outside of her tent with Ranka and Sasha. Beside her was the wolf, the warmth that spread from her like a furred blanket that helped chase the chill from her bones. Kilbern had flown into the forest searching for a nice carcass that would make for a delightful midnight snack. Apparently the jerky they’d had at dinner time wasn’t enough for the corvid. Astarion came to mind, the thought of the elf sneaking into the night when he occasionally did the same causing her to snort a laugh. She doubted the vampire would take it well, being compared to a bird, but the pair had more in common than he’d thought.

On the other side of the wolf and tiefling was the large, chestnut form of Ranka, as his large side fell and rose in the way only a slumbering bear could. He blocked the light of the campfire showering her in his shadow that gave her even more security as her wayward thoughts led her in dangerous directions.

"It will be okay, as long as we’re together.”

Memories flooded her mind like an unwelcome haunt in an old, dilapidated building. The memory of warm small hands within her own calloused ones, worn with the amount of times her thin, deft fingers would press on the vibrating strings of her stringed instruments, taunted her. The voice of a precious girl who’d once called Fianna her best friend, eventually turned lovers, and the way she felt the touch of a loved one embracing her own small frame was a toxic and yet intoxicating spell of an emotion. It was the first sign of warmth she’d had in a long time in her childhood aside from Sebastien, and the canine could only do so much. Slowly, her mother and father’s affection transformed into an ugly creature that focused with a cruel sharpness on her skills rather than her emotional health.

Norana. They were only eleven when she’d met the other tiefling at the Academy. She was her first, and only, best friend. She was the reason why she feared Karlach’s advances, platonic as it was, and blocked the barbarian from weaseling her way into her heart. Cursed woman and her charming wiles. Her thoughts held Fianna’s figurative hand as they walked even deeper into the oppressive channels of her mind.

"It will be okay, as long as we’re together.”

What beautiful lies. Norana didn’t know it at the time, of course, but within her slept the dormant predator of betrayal, one that would choose Fianna as her first unsuspecting victim. That predator would strike when they were fourteen after a full year of being harassed by the unhinged group of violent peers.

Fi curled into herself in her blankets and turned to face away from Ranka. She stilled, waiting to confirm that Sasha still slumbered before she dove back into her memories. There was no need to worry her daughter over such meaningless musings.

“I’ll protect you, Fi. Those bullies will never hurt you again, I promise you.”

More beautiful lies that infuriated her. Part of her knew not to blame the girl for leading her tormentors to her that sordid day. Norana was threatened, young, and terrified. If the other tiefling had pushed through her fears to help Fi, likely she would have met the same fate as herself. Still. Still. Why lead them to her? Why purposefully hunt her down so that those ‘bullies’ could cause more harm and chaos to her already bruised heart?

She still tasted the frigid water of the river as they forced her head beneath it, screaming through the wrapped cloth around her mouth so that when they did wrench her above to seek the precious breath she needed, the only thing that would meet her was more water that was poured over her nose and covered mouth. For hours her body felt the suffocating, terror ridden sensation of being drowned and yet not. Confusion ran through her veins as her body had fought, kicked, panicked, and wrestled against her captors to no avail.

For hours, the only thing her crimson eyes would snap onto while being wickedly pulled from one hell to the other was the little blonde tiefling who’d betrayed Fi like the pathetic worm she was. Submerged, then dragged out, and staring with the piercing fury that instilled a terror within Norana that she likely hadn’t felt before.

That day, when the other children had found her and dragged her to the river while they watched and chided and laughed was the day Fianna had given up all hope in all others. At least, those who weren’t animals. They weren’t stupid enough to stoop to such low levels of torture. Animals were instinctive creatures reactive to their nature and nothing more. Torture was a concept lost to them, unless the wells of their morality was poisoned by people.

The violence within Fi had stirred and in that moment, the vengeance and ferocity she was known for twisted and pulled itself free from its leash. She did not want to unleash it onto those that played at drowning her, but to the girl who had called herself lover, and even more painfully, best friend.

Fianna clenched her teeth at the memories until they almost bled. She still smelled the sun-washed, fair head of hair of her friend. The first lotion she’d loved was borrowed from Norana, one of sweet creams and desserts. Fi still marveled at how pretty the other tiefling was, filled with such grace that she herself would never achieve. Moreso, was the intelligence that shown bright from the mind of Norana and the false, luring kindness and consideration she claimed to have. Fi was a fool to believe it. To believe in her.

The tiefling flinched when hot tears that had built in her lids slowly slid their lazy way down the side of her face. She cursed softly to herself. It was less than even a whisper, and yet the emotions in that one curse was powerful enough to threaten the release of the wave of anguish that threatened to spill into the night.

“It will be okay as long as we’re together.”

What fucking lies.

The strained struggle of a tent flap opening snapped her back to her current reality. She walked away from the memories as a slow and cautious instinct took over. Fi wiped the tears from her face by burying it in one of the blankets, but there was no helping the puffiness of her eyes that spoke more than lies ever could.

Sasha whipped her head up from her spot and snuffled with her nose at the strange, new scent. Velvety ears laid back against her skull until the scent became familiar and she gave a languid wag of her tail. One of her favorite people had exited his tent, and Fi knew exactly who it was given her daughter’s gleeful reaction. Damned wolf and her love for that annoying vampire.

Fianna rose from her spot like the dead rose from their graves and pretended to stare at Astarion with eyes bleary from sleep, rather than tears.

Astarion froze in his spot, his elven eyes not needing to adjust to the darkness as his lips curled downwards in frustration. ”Is there any way I can leave my tent without you miraculously knowing that I’m doing so? It’s like you wait for me to leave.”

“Don’t be so loud and I won’t notice you leaving.” She said, though the usual humor in her voice had vanished. Stupid feelings, she needed to work harder to conceal the remnants to her personal nightmare.

“Rather hard to do when you wake up at the slightest of sounds. I blink and you stir awake.”

Fianna regarded him longer than she should have. For a second, and only a second she imagined tearing up before Astarion, telling him of her sorrows, confiding in him, yearning for the love of a friend that she’d lacked in her lifetime. Instead, she gave him a half smile and pulled off her many blankets. She sat cross legged, an amused glint to her eyes as she placed both of her hands on her knees.

”Hunting, I take it?”

”Yes, it’s been a while since someone has delighted me in a taste of their sweet, enthralling ichor and a vampire spawn needs to eat. Well, not eat per se, but- you get what I mean.”

”I’ll come with you. We’ll hunt together.”

”Come with me? Do you miss my presence that much?”

”I miss hunting,” she said. “It’s been forever since we haven’t stolen food from random barrels and crates. It’ll be nice to stretch my legs. Anyway, you don’t have a choice, I’m coming along. And so is Sasha.”

“Don’t have a choice, you say? And what if I vanish into the night?”

“Good luck, city boy. You may be your roguish self, but do you really want to see who will win in a hunt? I’ve been doing this for twelve years, you were a damned magistrate before this.”

There was a look that crossed his face, emotions flickered through his features before he grinned with exposed teeth.

“Pull my hair, why don’t you. Fine, fine, I won’t deny the idea of hunting with a lovely thing like yourself won’t be fun. That, and not having to work so hard is appealing. Are you sure you don’t want to go hunting by yourself and I can wait for you at camp? Since I’m a ‘city boy’ and such. A boy, however, I’m not. I’m older than you by centuries, remember?”

"Nope.” She whistled sharply and the pale wolf shot to her feet, giving Fi a longing look before the tiefling sighed and pointed her chin towards Astarion. “Go, you betrayer.”

Sasha bolted like a spring set free and leapt at Astarion. He yelped in response, his arms coming up to protect himself from the barrage of licks and nuzzles from the wolf half the height of himself.

“Ugh, so much spittle. Down, beast! Down!”

Fi laughed, a full and hearty sound fighting and succeeding in escaping through the cage of sorrow she’d just been trapped in moments before.

“To my absolute bewilderment, she loves you. It hurts my frail heart, but alas, now it means you get to deal with her.”

"Wonderful. I am filled with bliss.”

Fi whistled again and the wolf bounded to her side like a puppy frolicking through sun-drenched meadows. The tiefling roughly patted the canine between her ears and Sasha leaned into her touch, lost in sheer joy.

"Mother! We get to go hunting with the pale one? I have never had a better day in my life!” Despite the growls and grunts Sasha made, Fi could understand her as easily as breathing. That was the benefit to a ranger’s ability to speak to animals.

"That’s right, baby girl. He’ll learn to appreciate your love, just keep at it.”

"What was that? What did she say?” Astarion snapped, his nose wrinkling in suspicion. As much as he’d deny it, he couldn’t help but be involved in any kind of gossip, especially about himself.

“She says you’re a terrible hunter who couldn’t even snag a dying rabbit even if you tried.”

“…clearly you’re a terrible liar. Alright, hurry up then, before I change my mind and leave you here with your terrible wit and slobbery creatures.”

She gave Astarion a wicked grin and stood on her feet, eager to grab her gear and prepare for the hunt. Even more so, she was eager to forget, to ease the hole in her heart as it bled quietly under the guise of smiles and jests.

“It will be okay, as long as we’re together.”

The words haunted her even as she stepped into her tent and grabbed her pack, but tonight she wouldn’t dwell on it any longer. Tonight was dedicated to new friends, as afraid as she was of them, and to the energy that would pump her legs as she ran wild through the forest with her daughter and the intriguing vampire spawn who’s presence would unknowingly become a balm to her being.

[cathartictrash]

Someone write a Halstarion AU where Astarion is an environmental lawyer and Halsin is an activist and arborist. They initially dislike each other because Astarion views Halsin as "some granola hippie treehugger," and Halsin views Astarion as a "corporate cog." They fall in love slowly after meeting at a protest where Halsin chains himself to a tree, and Astarion speaks to the media about the facts of the case.

PLEASE.

[hwathwugu]

A classic western tale

[colonelarr0w]

Astarion, once he's comfortable with you, is definitely the type of man to sleepily reach for you when he realizes that you've rolled out of his arms at night.

Like the moment, and I mean the moment, that he doesn't feel you wrapped up in his arms, he's up. Sure, he's groggy as all hell and he can't properly see anything around him -- but all he knows is that he's not holding you when he most definitely should be.

He'll push himself up onto his elbows, squinting to see that you've turned yourself away from him and rolled out of his arms. Your back is turned to him, but he knows that it wasn't intentional.

With a fanged yawn, Astarion reaches for you again. His arms loop around your waist and turn you around, tucking your head beneath his chin. Instinctively, your legs tangle with his own, your arms adjusting to wrap around his midsection.

He grins to himself, content again.

[loulouhattie]

🔥🔥🔥Careful soldier. If I burn any hotter, I might explode 🔥🔥🔥

mother sorry mother sorry mama k sorry mama k 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

3.5 hrs in procreate

ref is Xinia (link below)

[deannamb]

What did he do?

[mossy-rock-in-a-field]

Several weeks ago, my retirement-age mother requested that I play Baldur’s Gate 3 for her because she has trouble with controllers/keyboards and wanted “to see what all the fuss is about with that cute wizard boy.” For context, my mother and I have done this sort of thing in the past with certain RPGs (dragon age, mass effect, etc.), but it’s been a few years since she’s personally requested a game like this. Basically, I control her Tav but let her make all the choices so she can determine how the story plays out without worrying about mechanics. She treats it like a choose-your-own-adventure book.

Anyway, here is a list of some of the things my mother has said and/or chosen to do throughout the course of BG3 in no particular order:

She is (obviously) romancing Gale. She is quite smitten with him and his passion for books and learning; she also thinks he’s polite and qualifies as “relationship material.” She also REALLY likes the things he’s said about his cat so far (my mom is a cat lady), so I know she’s gonna flip shit when we meet Tara in Act III.

She’s playing a normal druid Tav with a generally good alignment. Her favorite spell is Spike Growth because she thinks it’s hilarious whenever enemies walk into the AOE and die. I usually end up having to cast it at least once per battle per her request. Sometimes twice.

Contrary to her alignment, my mother tasks me with robbing every single chest, crate, barrel, and burlap sack we come across; this also includes people and their pockets. The party is always at max carrying capacity. ALWAYS. She doesn’t like selling things because “what if I need them.” The camp stash is in literal shambles. There is no hope of organizing it. She’s got like fifty seven sets of rags and a billion pieces of random silverware.

She MUST talk to every animal and corpse in the game. I think five hours of her total playtime so far (47ish) has been spent speaking to animals as many times as humanly possible. Like, I was thorough in my own playthroughs, but this is on a whole other level.

She did NOT get Volo’s lobotomy, but she did let Auntie Ethel take her eye in hopes of a cure for the tadpole. I did not understand the logic then. I still do not understand it now.

She is far more interested in fashion than equipment stats. Do you have any idea how much gold I’ve had to spend on dyes just to make things match? SO much. Same vibe as that “please someone help me balance my finances my family is starving” tweet but instead of candles it’s thirty thousand fucking bottles of black and furnace red dye.

We broke the prisoners out of Moonrise, but they got on the boat too early and bugged the fight by leaving Astarion and Karlach behind. Wulbren Bongle somehow got stuck in combat mode even after engaging the cutscene on the docks below Last Light; he he kept trying to run ALL THE WAY BACK TO MOONRISE nine fucking meters at a time while I frantically tried to finish the fight with the Warden, otherwise Wulbren would have run straight into the shadow curse. (I would’ve let him go; fuck Wulbren Bongle, all my homies hate Wulbren Bongle. But my mom didn’t know that, and she wanted to keep him safe. So.)

She had me reload a save like eighteen times to save the giant eagles on top of Rosymorn Monastery. Wouldn’t even let me do non-lethal damage just to get past things. I think getting that warhammer for the dawnmaster puzzle took us like an hour and a half alone. (Yes, I know you can use any warhammer, but SHE didn’t.)

She’s started keeping an irl notebook to keep track of her quests between play sessions. She writes down ideas and strategies when she thinks of them during the week, then brings them to her next game session at my house. I think she wrote about three pages on possible approaches to the goblin fortress alone.

She insists that I pet Scratch and the owlbear cub before every single long rest, no exceptions. Sometimes I have to do it multiple times until she is absolutely sure that the animals know exactly how much she loves and cherishes them. She has also commissioned a crocheted owlbear plush from a friend of hers and is very excited.

I’m sure there’s a bunch of stuff I’m forgetting, but those are some fun things I thought of. She’s enjoying the game and is telling all of her retired friends to get it and play it for themselves. She asked me “what is Discord” yesterday and I think my life flashed before my eyes.

anyway shout out to my mom for being neat

Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5

[xemdead]

Astarion probably isn’t used to aftercare with all his trauma regarding sex / intimacy.

So imagine after the first time with you, almost immediately after you both finish, he gets up to re-dress. He expects you to do the same and leave, just like everyone has before you. But instead, you tug him back down into your warm embrace. He’s frozen, unsure what you’re doing but he likes the way you play with his hair. It slows down his erratic post coital heart, as his head relocates to your chest. Astarion comes to the realisation that he’s never actually taken a moment after sex to calm his body down before. It’s nice. You stay like this together for a while, relaxing after all the physical movement from earlier.

‘You okay?’ You mumble to him in a tired haze, ‘Did it feel good? You want some water?’ You begin to sit up, disrupting his position on your chest. For once he doesn’t reply, no flirty quips ready on his tongue. Astarion finds himself half shocked, half in awe that you care how he feels and what he felt like during the act. No one’s ever asked him that before.

You leave the bed briefly to the bathroom and return with a washcloth. You wipe yourself off then gesture towards Astarion, ‘Is it okay for me to clean you?’ You say softly, asking his consent.

He coughs, clearing his throat, ‘Of course,darling,’ he says, clearly covering up his confusion and rising nerves. ‘Are you okay?’ You ask again, repeating the question from earlier.

‘Yes, my love, I’m fine... it’s just no one’s ever done this to me before,’ he states gesturing down to where you carefully wipe his inner thighs. ‘Oh!’ You stutter ‘I can stop if your not comfortable with it—’. ‘I love it.’ he states, cutting you off. Eyes staring warmly into your own.

After this scenario happens I feel like Astarion will make the extra effort to learn proper aftercare for you, he begins to realise how important it is to check in after sex, he never wants you to feel used like he did in the past.

(Notes: sorry this is pure Astarion brainrot. Not proofread/edited. This man has crawled his way into my heart)

[dancingbirdie]

The pale elf has ruined my life

[brabblesblog]

A kiss, stolen in a moment away from the crowd.

Read up on what these two idiots are on about here:

Whither is thy beloved gone?

Remember ye not the former things.

Art by @pickled0ctopus

[tragedybunny]

Hot Take

Honestly I think if Astarion were in a relationship with a good aligned Tav he'd hate Halsin.

I don't think it's lost on Astarion that he's short tempered and selfish. And the person he cares the most for is entirely different. But they care for him and seem to overlook the worst parts of him, even if he doesn't want to save orphans or whatever.

But then here's Halsin, who despite his own trauma, is still a good person. He's kind and genial and he's out here trying to do the right thing.

And to top it all off, he wants to have sex with Tav. Sex, the one thing Astarion should be good at, the one thing he should be able to provide to Tav. He's not a good or nice person, he's a pile of burdens, in his own mind, but he should be able to give them sex. But he can't.

And now Halsin, who is the kind of person Astarion isn't, is trying to give his partner the only thing Astarion sees himself as being good at. What does he have left to give to Tav? How can Astarion hope to keep them in his life?

Fair or not, I think he'd hate him for it.

[madbalalaika]

Based on "Sauced" by dirty_whorchata. Very wholesome and has just the right amount of spice :>

Requests and (urgent) commissions | Buy me a ko-fi ☕💗

[dragonagitator]

What's this? A BG3 article on a gaming journalism website that isn't just a summary of yesterday's Reddit posts? Unpossible!

PC Gamer: I stayed at all 17 of Baldur's Gate 3's unique campsites and painstakingly rated the accommodations like some kind of Forgotten Realms bon vivant by Ted Litchfield

Would have been funnier if written in the style of Harrington Nethalin, but still a nice little resource for BG3 fanfic authors.

[astarionmylife]

18+

When you and Astarion first have sex, it's all an act. It's a carefully precise performance he is putting on. Perfectly timed grunts and groans, pretty seductive language. He puts up a domineering front, disassociates like he always used to. It's second nature to him now, sex is not a tender act of affection anymore. It's a deal, the only thing he can offer in a trade. He's in control, simply exists to make you feel good.

As the two of you get closer, when you start experiencing feelings for each other, he doesn't know what to do. He feels lost, and the sex is much gentler. He's starting to feel comfortable with you, sometimes allows you to top and take control as he surrenders. His mask of pretense is dropping, his perfectly manicured act falling apart. He finds little whiny moans escaping him as he finishes. He finds himself clinging to you more and more, trusting you with more parts of his past.

After awhile, the two of you are open with each other, very much in love. You take care of him when necessary, and while the sex is never the same ideal as it was, it's so much more satisfying. And sometimes he can cry during sex, sobs falling down his cheeks as he sloppily thrusts into you, head buried in the crock of your neck as you stroke your fingers through his hair and whisper affirmations into his ears. And on the less emotional but just as horny days, you can spend days in bed, alternating between just holding each other, and pounding into each other. Life is good.

[loulouhattie]

good boyfriends carry their princess home after they have bottomless kobolds

be a good boyfriend

be like finn

there will be no sympathy for that hangover