#Ketheric is a fighter

[bhaalschosenone]

Ketheric: What are those scratches on your arms and chest, Gortash?

Gortash: Oh, Durge tests their nails on me to see if they're sharp enough

Ketheric:

Gortash: I have some on my back too

Ketheric:

Gortash: Because we FUCK :3

[veliseraptor]

i call this one "fight went pretty good.jpg"

[lordliing]

if you don't think Ketheric is the scariest and best of the Chosen how does it feel to be wrong

[thehydromancer]

All joking aside, I accidentally inverted the badass-atmosphere-to-difficulty-ratio. Against Ketheric, Tav disarmed his second phase making him hilariously nonthreatening. Earned the achievement.

Against Orin, Tav dropped her in the first round. Earned the achievement.

I walked into the Gortash fight super cocky and 1st move of the fight he 1-shotted my whole party throwing a single consumable. I did not earn the achievement.

was discussing the boss fights with my friend and thus this meme was born

[lanafofana]

Colossus

Day #7! I spent the majority of the weekend writhing in unimaginable pain so it doesn't count as late. Those are the rules I've just made up! Pairing: Halsin/Tav(f) Summary: He's just so...big Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI Warnings/Tags: Porn, Smut, Cunnilingus, Size kink, Hand job, blow job, foreskin play, inappropriate use of colossus elixir, shotgunning No beta we die like Yonas (RIP Yonas) And the AO3 link, with love Special note: Hysterically this is colossal compared to the others I've posted for HalsinTav week. Additional note: I'll eventually post the one i started writing for Day4 (?). I took the prompt "wildshape misuse" in a completely different direction and it's taking me longer to write because it's more angst than romance. Probably no romance at all but we'll see. Enjoy!

Halsin was a big guy. Like a really big guy. 

Until she met Halsin, Tav had not been aware that people even came in sizes that large. It did not help that he was as thickly muscled as he was tall. No part of him was too skinny or unproportionate which always sent her dirty mind tumbling straight into the gutter wondering just how proportionate he was where she couldn't see. 

All of this was just harmless thinking on her part, she knew how to mind her manners and keep her hands to herself after all. He was a great ally and becoming an even greater friend so, despite the turn of her lustful thought from time to time, she’d never overtly act in any way to make him uncomfortable.

That didn’t stop her from laying in her tent late at night, calloused fingers strumming her sex, brain full of how’d she’d whimper and shake trying to take his thick cock. What if he was too big? The thought drove her wild, picturing him tensed up beneath her while she used her hands, her tongue, to bring him to release. Pussy drenched, skin flushed, breathing thready; the thought of how he’d stretch her near to breaking always pushed her over the precipice of her climax, choking back her moans while she writhed with her desperation. 

All of this was fine, probably a healthy outlet all things considered, and a welcome distraction from the horrors of their day to day adventuring. She was completely content with keeping her own company and it seemed unlikely her fortune in that regard would change any time soon. 

So if his larger than average hands brushing hers when she handed him a plate of dinner set her stomach fluttering. Or when he towered over her just slightly too close and she felt dizzy with fantasies about that large frame fucking her to the feywild and back, well, nobody needed to know it but her and her hands late at night in her bedroll. 

Things might have continued in this fashion till the conclusion of their little adventure but for one critical incident. 

The fight with Ketheric had been awful in more ways than one but when the avatar of Myrkul threatened to completely devastate them Tav had pulled out all the stops. Her focus had narrowed down to each fighter, her desperation providing her with all manner of tricks up her sleeve to, if not turn the tide of the fight, at least tread water till Aylin could finish smiting him to death. Or undeath. 

When she had spun on her heel and thrown the elixir to Halsin she hadn’t really been thinking too much beyond the immediate threat and how to keep her companions alive. Hadn’t been thinking about what the “after” of their fight would leave her with. So when the fight was over and that line of thinking evaporated she was chagrined and thrilled to realize what she was left with was a druid of colossal size and embarrassingly damp panties. 

Halsin had been huge before but now the sight of him was enough to break her brain a little bit. 

His hand could completely engulf her head and the thought alone was enough to have her lashes fluttering, her breath whooshing out of her in a pained sigh. And when she imagined his enormous cock, well, it was best she didn’t think too hard about that till she was safely ensconced in her tent that was for certain. 

Her companions may have joked from time to time about climbing Mount Halsin but actually seeing him so…engorged, had even the wittiest among them speechless, tongues dry behind their teeth. He was very good natured about it of course, the man didn’t seem to let anything phase him. He excused himself after they decided to camp for the night, the tenor of his voice deeper than usual and each step as he left camp was like a gentle tremor that climbed up her legs and tapped insistently at her clit. 

When her companions scattered to their own bedrolls for some much needed rest and he still hadn’t returned, Tav's mind began to worry. It wasn’t like anything out in the wilderness would be a challenge for him to deal with in his current state but still the worry gnawed at her. Isolation could be just as dangerous to one’s mental wellbeing as an enemy was to the physical form after all.

With this thought in mind she shoved her lust to the side and went to find him. It didn’t take her long. Halsin was down by the water’s edge, sitting on the sand and gazing out at where Tav was surprised to see stars twinkling down from a nearly cloudless sky.  

When he turns to see her a kind smile breaks across his face and Tav’s worry dissipates in its warmth. 

“It’s late,” she says chidingly when she’s close. She climbs a large rock to put them on more even ground, sitting on the edge of the damp stone closest to him and letting her legs dangle over the water. 

Halsin hums in agreement. “I find myself overwhelmed,” he says softly. “Overwhelmed and grateful for this chance to see these lands begin to heal. For once I think my rest will not be found in my meditations but here, watching the fruits our labors unfold.” 

Gods, even the way he spoke had a sexy appeal that left her heart hammering in her chest. “Right,” she says skeptically, “I guess. You could just say you’re too excited to sleep. Or trance or whatever.” 

Halsin laughs and shrugs. “I suppose I could.” When she meets his eyes there’s something in them she doesn’t recognize immediately but it warms her clear down to her toes. “You have a gift for seeing to the heart of things. A trait you share with Karlach I feel. One could learn a lot from seeing the world as you do.” 

Tav feels herself blush though she’s not sure why. She coughs. “Ah, right, well. Thanks. Myself, I quite like to smoke a little flower to help me relax if I can’t sleep. Something I’m sure you’re acquainted with.” 

“Indeed,” he agrees. “The stresses of leadership can take their toll and as Archdruid I became well acquainted with medicinal herbs to soothe the mind when rest was beyond my reach.” He gives a thoughtful hum. “Pity I left my pipe behind.” 

“Oh I don’t know,” says Tav slyly pulling out a familiar pipe from the small pouch at her hip. 

Halsin laughs, a booming thing that vibrates low in Tav’s belly. “How did you–?”

She fans a hand out and wiggles her fingers with a grin. “Sticky fingers I’m afraid.” She digs in her pouch a little more until she pulls out a little snuff box the size of her thumb and a match. “I snagged it after talking with Lettie, I honestly didn’t have a whole lot of faith you were still alive.” 

With the skill of someone who is well acquainted with the action she packs and lights the pipe, sucking at the stem till she feels the familiar curl of smoke burn in her throat. She turns to offer it to him but realizes his predicament in the same breath he declines with a rueful smile.  

“Too small for these fingers,” he tells her. If he notices how her dark eyes seem to zero in on his hands for a beat too long he is gracious enough not to shame her for it. 

Tav, as is her nature, puts zero thought into the consequences before she offers the easiest solution that pops in her tadpole’d brain. “Come here then. Let me show you how it’s done in the Gate.” 

Halsin stares at her but she beckons him closer impatiently until he complies. 

“Come on, scaredy cat.” She sucks at the pipe for a long moment before she pulls his face close and puts her lips close to his, tapping at his bottom lip till he opens his mouth and she breathes the smoke between his lips. When he sucks it in her lips graze his, only lightly, like the brush of a feather. 

She lingers then, checking his expression and the moment seems to slow down and draw out as if they’re locked in a slowing spell. This close she gets her first real look at the peculiar shade of his eyes and what was once a harmless way to share a little smoke between friends turns into something heavier, charged. 

Leaning back she sucks at the pipe again, a shorter puff to give herself something to do before she opens her fat mouth and says something insane. Halsin breathes out the smoke slowly, turning his gaze from watching her to instead watch the curl of smoke twist and dissipate in the evening air. 

“Inventive,” he says, voice a tad rougher than he normally speaks. 

Humming in assent she smiles, enjoying the pleasant buzz that hums along her frayed nerves, soothing the disjointed clamor of her thoughts. “I wasn’t sure about you,” she confesses after a beat. He looks at her with interest. “The other druids in the grove were so…” she trails off, weighing her words. She settles on frankness. “Rude. Possessive of their time, their grove. Willing to follow Khaga rather than risk speaking up against each other. Even after you came back I tried talking to them but besides the few that were relieved most were more than glad to see the back of me and ballsy enough to say it to my face.” 

Halsin frowns but lets her continue. 

“I was worried you were going to turn out to be the same. Sure, you accepted the tieflings and all but, still, I wondered when your patience was going to snap. We’re not exactly the most cohesive group on our best days. You surprised me though. You take everything as it comes and never lose sight of what you want while sticking to your scruples. It’s admirable.” 

Maybe it’s the way the moonlight shines in his eyes or maybe it’s the flower working its magic, untangling her tongue but she pushes on, a light flush suffusing her cheeks. 

“You’ve become something of a hero to me. Someone I can aspire to be like, especially now. With the bloody cult and all. Gods and curses and monsters. You’re someone I can look at and be reminded that, even against these absurd, impossible odds, I don’t have to lose sight of myself. You look at me and it’s like you really see me. See the me that I want to see in myself. I, uh, I’ve never had that before.” She breaks off with a rueful chuckle. “Sorry, I just had to say it. It’s just…I’m really glad you’re here is all.” She rubs the back of her neck and looks away from his stare. 

A finger as large as her wrist brushes her chin and her gaze snaps back to his in surprise. 

“I feel the same.” He swallows and Tav tracks the movement before meeting his eyes again, feeling something like anticipation welling up within her. “About you. Before you came to the grove I had all but lost sight of who I was. Being Archdruid consumed me so entirely I had…cast off who I was. It didn’t seem to matter, not when so many things needed doing, people needed the skills and diplomacy of the First Druid, not me. It’s been a long time, longer than I like to think about, since I had a…friend. Someone I could just enjoy the company of without the distance of my station playing some role.”

“Sounds lonely.” 

“Yes. It was. You pay me a high compliment, calling me a pillar to look to but it is you, my friend, who has been my guiding light. You showed me that ‘Halsin’ still has value, beyond the title and everything else. It means a great deal to me, what you’ve given me. You mean a great deal to me.” 

Tav shrugs a shoulder, lopsided smile bashful in the face of such open praise. “Flattery will get you everywhere.” It’s a crude attempt at brushing off the heavy feeling that has settled over the moment but Halsin’s eyes crinkle at the corners, charmed. Producing another match she gestured with the now-cold pipe, “Another hit?” 

Halsin’s chest expands as he takes in a slow breath, as if conflicted and thinking too hard about it. Tav, who has perhaps never thought too hard about anything in her entire life, ‘tsk’s’ with a teasing smile and lights the pipe, sucking on the lip of the stem. Holding the smoke in she gives him a challenging look, smirking when he draws closer. 

Emboldened by the lingering intimacy from their conversation and her own burgeoning tangle of feelings and lust, Tav grasps his chin with both hands and plants her lips against the seam of his firmly, releasing the air and smoke from her lungs into his mouth when he sucks in a surprised gasp. She lingers there, eyes shut and consumed with the warmth of his lips against hers before reluctantly pulling away. 

His eyes are shut tight and she feels a twinge of guilt for the way he holds himself so still and tense. “Was that alright?” She asks quietly, wondering which would destroy her first, the rejection or the disappointment. 

But the druid surprises her. “Yes,” he utters, eyes opening at last. “I am only disappointed my current form is not well suited for returning the gesture.” 

Tav has a sudden vision of being suffocated by those lips. A warm wet tongue the size of her face gliding over her body and she shivers with want. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips and his eyes flick to her mouth to watch it closely. “I wouldn’t say that.” 

A muscle in Halsin’s jaw twitches as he clenches his teeth together, the pupils of his eyes swelling and she breathes out slowly, suddenly acutely aware of their proximity. 

“You’re not shy about what you want,” he breathes with a smile. “I like that.” 

Tav’s expression turns wry. “You say that now,” she mutters. 

Before Halsin can think of how to respond to a loaded statement like that she leaps off the boulder she’d been sitting on and approaches him. She doesn’t hide the way she stares at his body. The way her eyes trail along his massive legs while she steps between them. The way they linger on his hands, the expanse of his chest, and trail scorchingly up his neck to his face. 

“The pipe is nice but I know of even better ways to relax.” 

Halsin’s chuckle rumbles in the night air. “An intriguing if unwise notion.” 

Tav’s expression turns coy, her smile sly. “Is it so unwise to embrace the unexpected opportunities we’re afforded? I’m just ‘seizing the moment’.” The look he cuts her at parroting words he once spoke to her sizzles along her skin. 

“I had hoped to take the time to broach the subject of my affections for you before we–”

“Oh, we’re past broached, Halsin.” 

“I could crush you.”

“You won’t,” she says dismissively and then, “I’d very much like to touch you. If you’ll allow me.” 

His stomach clenches with equal parts anticipation and uneasiness. He nods. 

She trails a hand along his thigh. It’s so small but burns through the leather of his trousers and he shifts, releasing a sigh. It takes her less time than he’s expecting to reach the apex of his thighs and when she runs her palms down the straining seam of his pants where his cock lies trapped and swollen he breathes in sharply. 

She checks his expression and must see the reservation in them because she stops, removing her hands. “Do you want me to stop?” 

“I don’t think y–”

“Yes or no, druid. I won’t be offended.” She cants her head to the side in thought. “Disappointed maybe.” 

The muscle in his jaw jumps again and when he swallows the bob of his throat sends a thrill up her spine. She’s definitely playing with fire but she’s never been particularly good at denying herself when she has her mind set on something. And burying her face in the slit of cock is very much on the forefront of her brain. 

“No,” he says finally. 

Tav grins. “We can stop anytime you wish.” Tugging on the laces of his breeches she pulls the leather away and she comes face to eye with the largest dick she could have ever imagined. To call him proportionate would be doing him a disservice, he was clearly very well endowed, colossus elixir notwithstanding.  

Using her hands to ease him from his breeches completely she feels her cunt give a needy throb at the weight of it. Holding it with both hands the girth is wider than the fattest part of her thigh and she runs her hands from the base to the tip experimentally. His foreskin is impossibly soft and loose enough she adds more pressure to her grip and salivates as it glides down easily revealing the flushed head of his glans. 

He shifts, his breathing turning heavy when she lowers her face and licks at the slit. She probes and suckles, moving across the smooth skin eagerly while she caresses and strokes the shaft. When precum beads at the tip she licks it away and hums appreciatively at the salty taste. His musk is overwhelming, intoxicating. 

Sucking his loose foreskin into her mouth, twisting her tongue against it, running her hands over every exposed inch of him she smiles against his erection when he groans, gasping and needy. It resonates in the air and she flexes her thighs together to ease the wet need that beats between her legs. 

He allows her to indulge herself for only so long before, trembling with immense effort, he asks her to stop. Immediately removing herself she backs up a step but gives him a searching look.“Are you certain?” 

Running a hand down his face Halsin works at controlling his erratic breathing. “I am. My control is…not what it should be. In my current state, I cannot promise to be able to contain myself. I will not risk your safety, no matter how your touch ignites me.” 

Wiping a slick streak of precum from her chin and licking it from her finger she almost misses the way his eyes flash gold while he tracks the movement. “Another time then,” she says with an easy smile. “Whenever you’re ready.” She turns, as if to leave, but Halsin can smell her arousal. The scent of it makes his mouth water. 

“Wait. Do not suppose I am an inconsiderate lover. I would taste you tonight, beneath the light of the waning moon.” 

Tav cannot help the gasp this pulls from her, nor the throb of desire that starts at her cunt and spreads like branching roots through her body, lighting every nerve on fire. “I would like that.” Her voice thrums with want. “Very much.” 

“Then come here to me,” he beckons. 

She steps closer and nearly swoons as the palm of his hand scoops her up. He is gentle as he brings her close and with his other hand he gently thumbs open the clasp of her robe. Underneath she is bare and the cool night air prickles at her skin, pebbling the dusky mauve of her nipples into stiff peaks. 

“Perfect,” he murmurs and the intensity of his gaze sends the blood rushing to the surface of her skin in a hot wave. 

He holds her to his face, running his nose from the thatch of dark hair between her legs to her chest. When he slots his mouth over her bosom, the warm wet mass of his tongue flicking and curling against each breast she moans, letting her head fall back. She holds his face and presses further against his exploring touch with wanton abandon. 

When his tongue retreats she whines, her legs falling open desperately. He smiles through the blazing hunger and takes his time mouthing her soft flesh with careful attentiveness. Halsin’s tongue swipes down one leg to her feet and she feels her mind go brittle at the edges when he sucks the entire foot into his mouth. Engulfing her foot he continues to sup and the suction of it has her writhing and eager in his hand. Treating her other leg to the same treatment is too much and her hand dives between her legs to sooth the apex of her desire. 

Halsin’s eyes, black as the night sky behind him flash gold and for a second his teeth look sharper, his expression wild. He plucks her hands away and this time when she widens her legs her cunt is met with probing wet warmth of his tongue and she cries out, shrill and breathy. 

Possessing an infinite amount of patience he laps at the damp lips between her legs at a slow, rhythmic pace driving her feral. The heels of her feet find purchase on his forearm and at the next swipe of his tongue she thrusts her hips to meet it, groaning when it presses against her clit with an insane amount of pressure. 

Her breathing comes in gasps and pants, her eyes half lidded with need. “Please,” she babbles, nearly sobbing. “Please, H-Halsin, m-more, please!” 

Holding her against his mouth firmly he swirls his tongue between the lips of pussy and she keens, roughly palming her own breasts and arching her back. It’s too much, it’s not enough. Her orgasm flickers in and out of her reach. With the rough flat of his tongue he licks and gently suckles and her body shakes. 

“Gods!”

Pressing the tip of his tongue to her cunt he rolls the muscle there in a continuous undulation that has her gripping at her own hair, her back bowed. 

The taste of her arousal, the scent of her musk, the salt of her body pulls an appreciative groan from his throat. The vibration shivers across her clit and she reaches her climax with a lust drunk wail that cracks through the night air. 

Removing his mouth from her body she lies limp, flushed dark and muscles trembling.

“Fuck,” she whimpers, voice rasping. “That was,” she struggles to return her breathing to something approaching normal. “That was incredible.” The look she gives him is awed, sated. “You are incredible.” 

Halsin grins. She thought he might set her down but instead he brings her to his chest and she leans into the heat of his body gratefully. Exhaustion tugs at her but she’d rather bask in the bliss, snuggled into him. She nuzzles at his neck, reaching up a hand to run the flat of her palm against the edge of his tattoo that curls around his throat.     

“Sleep,” he murmurs, the sound of his voice as lulling as the steady beat of his heart against her ear.

“I don’t want to miss this,” she complains, turning her face into his bare skin and pressing a kiss there. 

He chuckles, warm and rich. “We have plenty of time. Rest.” 

So she does.

That's All Folks!

[pursuitseternal]

“Stripping,” a nsfw, hurt/comfort, and vengeance update to “Our Blood is Thicker:”

Astarion x Cordehlia (named Tav) | E | 6.3K

Summary: The fight for vengeance for her father comes at last to Ketheric, so long as Astarion is there to keep on hand on her, to keep her from getting lost in the bloodlust of the Bone Picker. Cordehlia needs healing… her burdens of her past too great to bear alone. That’s why her love is there, to strip away her old griefs, and all that covers her.

CW: Bloodlust, angst, revenge, hurt/comfort, allusions to battle-canon gore, Act 2 Spoilers, real sex, tadpole stripping (symbolic), very soft Dom!Astarion

Previous ch | Ao3 link | Masterlist

Chapter 13: Stripping…

💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞

Moonrise Towers. A curse nearly broken. The Moonmaiden Aylin freed, and the source of that monster's immortality unchained. Only one thing remained to their moving forward.

Ketheric had to die.

They had come close, so close. The rest of his bone-chilled undead fighters were dust at their feet. But then… there was that oozing orifice now in the top of the Moonrise Towers, the illithid stink rising from its bowels. A hole where Ketheric had vanished like the coward he was, threat on top of threat, into the putrid heart of the Absolute.

Cordehlia ran right for it, blade at the ready, pursuing after Ketheric alone. A battle cry tore through the air as she sprinted. Blood spattered. Breathless.

Hellsbent on revenge.

Two sets of feet ran for her… one shifting into a bear just to make sure he got there before she did anything rash. The Druid panted as he raised up on his massive hind feet. Cordehlia slammed into a wall of fur, two lean vampiric arms not far behind to catch her against Halsin’s big bear belly.

“Stop, stop, darling,” Astarion repeated over and over. But the She-elf thrashed even as her weapons were pinned to her sides. Even as she snapped her teeth and hissed in rage at them both.

Her eyes were pure black, dilated so wide with bloodlust. Her need to kill, to avenge.

To repay the debt she had carried for a century, the weight of her Father’s lost soul.

“Let me go, damn you both,” she snarled. Her voice was deep, scratched with all her battle screams.

“Not until you see sense, my love,” Astarion tried to cajole, tried to hold her armored body against his own even as she shook, the rush of her need to kill shooting down every muscle of her body. The bear grunted, a warning, and Astarion held her fast to turn them, to keep the splatter of mud from covering their already filthy bodies as the Druid shifted back.

“Your father wouldn’t want you to fall headlong into danger,” Halsin instantly interjected the moment he could. And for once, Astarion was a tinge glad the ancient elf could help. Especially as he felt her body slowly begin to still at the sound of reason. “You need to regroup, think of your strategy before you dive into the belly of the enemy. That place reeks of Illithids and pulses with the power of the Absolute,” Halsin’s deep voice rumbled, slow and soothing tones that rippled with persuasion and wisdom.

“Ketheric must die,” Cordelia thrashed again, back to her lover’s chest, elbows trying to free herself and making her vampire grunt and hiss in the process. “To break the curse, to end the Absolute, to avenge all that has been taken from me… all that made me this… weapon. I need…” her voice grew feral, threatening in a way that made every one of her companions quake in their boot, “to crush him… I need his blood.”

“Gods,” Astarion tried to gently stroke her face, “now which one of us sounds vampiric, darling?” He whispered, catching the edge of her long and pointed ear in his fingers. Something behind her eyes softened, something that turned that black back to singing silver, slowly, stroke by stroke of his fingers.

Until she stilled completely, limp in his arms, smiling gently as she looked into his face at last.

“There now, little Raven,” he whispered only for her ear as he caressed it.

“You’ll have your justice, little one,” Halsin drew closer. And Astarion fought hard not to bristle at the way his green eyes smiled at his love. “But we need to regroup, gather our forces before we dive into that Mindflayer colony to end Ketheric once and for all.”

“Fine,” Cordehlia stood on her own two feet, finally steady, calm enough that Astarion was pretty sure she wouldn’t launch down that stinking hole alone. “I hear wisdom in your words, my Father’s own sort.” She squared her shoulders, hands quickly resheathing her weapons with a metallic hiss. “We rest a few moments, then we cut him off… cut him down.”

The whole party gave a sigh of relief, finding places here and there to sit, to wipe the blood from their eyes and sharpen their weapons a moment.

Halsin left them to do the same, beginning his work of healing whatever little wounds they had sustained. And Astairon finally felt the peace of being with her alone, for that moment. Even with her back towards him, her eyes fixed on their next move of attack, he couldn’t leave her. “My love,” he bid her softly. “Come and sit a moment with me, won’t you?”

“No,” she replied, fixed forward still. “I won’t rest until his blood is shed and my Father is avenged.”

“Don’t be stupid, Cordehlia,” he tutted his tongue, moving to put himself in her line of sight. Those eyes at first scowled at him… the same way she once did when they first… stumbled upon one another again. There was loathing, hatred. Bloodlust even. It sliced through him, pain cutting right to his slow-beating, undead heart. “What’s wrong, my love?” he frowned, folding his arms across his own armored chest.

“What’s wrong?” she scoffed, vitriol in her voice and hate in her eyes. “I am so close to avenging my Father… so close to fighting my way back to who I once was before I lost my only family to Ketheric, so close to reclaiming what I was when you first loved me…. I am so close to cleaning my hands from all the blood I shed as the Bone Picker, so close to clearing my body of the damned mantle of my former self. My dark self.”

A warm voice cleared its throat at a distance beside them. “Well, that is most encouraging, I must interject…”

Astarion had to force his lips to stay shut, to keep himself from snarling and letting his fangs do the talking. “I don't think Cordehlia invited you to join our very private conversation… Gale… and I know I didn’t extend an invitation…”

“Well,” the Wizard shifted as Cordehlia turned to look into his own face. Her eyes still hardened, her mouth still turned in a scowl, “a fresh start… a new beginning, once this is all through, it’s what you deserve, Cordehlia.”

Astarion bristled. “Forgive me, but maybe what she deserves is to know that what she was has made her what she is… perfect and stronger and fiercer. Capable of bringing down the Absolute, capable of so much more than that.” He could hear it in his own voice, that edge of a hiss, that rasp of threat he hoped made Gale quake and shut his mouth. “Unlike those of us who tried to win the love of a goddess of magic to be cursed with some magical blight… Some of us have a sordid past that has made us embrace the monster we are and use it to our… advantage.”

Cordehlia turned, her love, her fierce defender… she felt something inside her ease as he braced his whole frame, ready to attack at her side. He never saw her as a monster, never condemned her for the blood that stained her past and dripped from her hands. He couldn’t chastise her without naming the same fault in himself. Not that he saw it as fault. Only suffering and torture and loss.

For what fault was there in him? Made to be tortured, made to seduce and use his body for his master’s delight…

And she… she had been formed like adamantine… stronger than a blade, more deadly than any spell. She would end this enemy… Ketheric, the Absolute…

Crodehila took a steadying breath, drawing closer to place one gauntleted hand on Astarion’s arm. “It is the darkest forces, the most devastating pressure that forms the sharpest weapons. And you can’t escape that darkness, that pressure or else… you become brittle ....”

She watched her words take hold, sinking into his chest, his heart, the source of his blight. Gale’s eyes fluttered closed to hear her speak. “None of us need to shatter, not even you, no matter what self-sacrifice has been demanded of you by your former lover. Embrace who you are, what you have learned in the dark, and we will make it out of this.”

Astarion smiled so softly down at her—his unshakable warrior. Every head nodding in approval.

Cordehlia took a trembling inhale, almost watching her reflection in her mind, covered in that fearsome armor of Lady Corvus, smiling back at her. Brighter. Part of her. But not in control. “We can walk from this side by side, once this is all through. And we will all be made that much sharper for it.”

Even that made Gale smile, spurned as he was, jealous or determined… it didn’t seem to burn so bright inside him anymore. “You’re right,” he shook his head, “damned wisdom of the elves… I can’t argue with that.”

The vampire sucked his teeth, a little cock of his head rife with sarcasm. “If only you’d listen with that same rapt attention to me, sometime,” Astarion sneered even as he laughed.

“Not sure you count as an elf…” Gale tossed back, “or wise…”

Karlach snorted with laughter, breaking what could have been tense silence. Chuckles, giggles filled the air, until even Cordehlia’s bubbly, medical laugh peeled beside him. And that made his own lips smile.

Besides, there would be plenty of time to shame Gale as the butt of many a joke soon. Once Ketheric was dead.

That event came with such relief. Came with lots of blood and vengeance and gore. But in the end, Cordehlia stood over Ketheric’s headless corpse, the blood of his undead body caking her boots.

Her blade hung at her side, having struck the death blow at last. Its tip dragged noisily on the ground behind her as she stepped away. The scraping echoing in the massive cavern. Her voice was hoarse as she tried to speak, sore from screaming at him as she had hacked his body, howling the name of her Father, unburdening all the things she had carried on her shoulders from her grief.

Her eyes were wet, wide, and sad as she looked at her bedraggled friends. Her love. “Let's move from here,” she scratched out. “We have more things to do.”

Cordehlia straggled, barely sliding one foot in front of the other. Her eyes looked hazy… distant.

Faint. Her vision swam… a weight off her heart, she could almost feel the Shadow Curse lifting from the lands, almost see her Father’s smooth, smiling face one more time. But there was so much more to do… more enemies to defeat, the chosen of Bhaal and Bane… an army of the Absolute to vanquish, not to mention a Netherbrain to somehow destroy.

It was too much for even her adamantine-hardened soul.

Her knees buckled, but before her body smacked into blood-covered stone, Astarion caught her. Somehow, that lean, vampiric, roguish body lifted her in his arms and over his shoulder, armor and all. Somehow, she could smell his scent of citrus and hers through the tang of blood and gore. Somehow, she could hear his soothing hush inside her mind as she drifted unconscious for a moment.

She had barely moved, still breathing, as she laid in his mess of blankets inside his tent. Halsin bent his hulking body over Cordehlia, and Astarion could only watch as the healing magic glowed around her unarmored body. He kept his lithe fingers in his love’s hair, brushing out snarls, stroking up and down her ears tenderly and slowly. Just to let her know he was there.

“There now,” Halsin grunted as he sat back on his haunches. “She should awaken herself. A bit lighter in the heart I wouldn’t be surprised, after finally finishing what she thought her Father started.”

Astarion couldn’t fight the instinct to have his hackles raised when the Druid spoke about her and her past. But all the same, he forced that well-practiced friendly smile. “Thank you, Druid,” he said. “I’ll take it from here, get her cleaned.”

“Using your tongue or do you prefer the dish and rag?”

“That’s rather impertinent,” Astarion let his fangs show this time.

“I’m only joking,” Halsin chortled, deep and low in his chest as he reached for the basin of water and a rag to bring within reach. “No one is trying to take her from you, you know. You’ve rekindled a bond so strong, so thick, I doubt it will sever even in death.”

The vampire felt his nostrils flare.

“Well, a second one in your case,” Halsin quickly added, that warm smile turning his scarred face.

“There is not much that can outlast even death itself,” he took the bowl from the Druid’s massive hands, busying himself with washing her face clean first. “Not unless you are undead… immortal.”

“I’m… forgive me, I believe I touched a delicate nerve.”

Astarion kept his hands busy; it always helped him think, rest, and concentrate. “Attachments are of little consequence to those who are not in them, Druid.”

“Attachment? You mean love, surely?”

Raising his head with a snap, he leveled his gaze at the massive, crouching Elf. “I do,” he snipped. “There is nothing I would not do to keep her now. After all the mistakes I have made, all the suffering I was forced to put others through.” He paused to wipe some more of the dried blood from her beautiful face. “She might be the one thing I have done right in my life, undead or before… as long as I don’t fuck it up again.”

“If you do… love her… then it is only natural to trust your instincts. You will protect her better than anyone or anything.”

For once, Astarion looked up at the Druid and didn’t feel jealousy or hatred or even annoyance. He was… grateful. “Thank you… Halsin,” he replied, wringing out the rag to get fresh water once more.

“I’d say ‘shout if you need anything,�� but I suspect once she wakes you will be shouting for other reasons, ones you won’t want… disturbed,” he chuckled in that deep bellied way of his before he left the tent.

Astarion couldn’t help the smile on his face, wiping the last steaks of grime from her chin before he placed a soft kiss on those lips. And as her eyes did flutter open, her breath deepening the moment their lips met, he did feel that thickening in his groin. “Welcome back, my love,” he whispered, savoring the way her lips gave a small smile.

Just for him.

She stirred, her shift and leathers shuffling as she moved stiffly. Looking at her hands cleaned, her armor removed, she even touched a hand to her slightly damp cheek. Washed skin under her touch. Cordehlia slowly sat, eyes that were so dilated with bloodlust not hours ago now shined with unshed tears, her pink lips trembling as she pulled her arms around Astarion’s neck. Hanging there for a moment, he breathed her in, listening to the symphony of her heartbeat in her veins as it increased in speed. That thickening and heat in his body only surged the more to have her so close, relieved at last once she pulled his body hard to cover her own.

She was more than reward… she was the one thing he had done right in all his tormented existence.

Tonight, like every night, was bliss now, his own personal reward each day and night to be at her side. Sometimes Astarion felt the bitterest of pangs when he started to think about being denied such pleasure and love and acceptance century after century. But those grumblings in his heart were always soon swept away by Cordehlia. The one who took him just as he was. Resentment was warmed by her adoration, distracted by her warmth and wet, wherever it was. Memories of torment and torture and knives and whips and flaying punishment grew dimmer, her beauty obscuring the flashes he would get of his blood pooling at his feet, her scent covering the phantom stink of the kennels.

It was her warmth that brought him back from the dead, and he was sure there was no grave now that could keep him away from her.

What was lost was found, and for gods sake, nothing would take it away. Now that he found something he finally deserved. Not that he believed it…

Not as he gazed up into her blushing face as she rode him furiously, her hands clenching into his. Not as he had to tighten every tendon in his arms to steady her since she wasn’t watching anymore. He laughed at her carelessness, too lost to the feeling of him inside her and the waves of pleasure he called to race down her spine.

“Fuck,” she let the uncouth curse slip from her rosy lips. Something inside his mind stirred, that old tickle inside him from before, from how freely she would let the word fly as a youth, as frowned upon as it was for her status.

“Such noble lips letting out such vulgar words, darling,” he growled, his breath thin as she pushed him closer with every slap of her body on his cock and thighs.

“Oh, you like… all the vulgar things my lips do with you…” Her words turned to cries, stilted and low, only half-stifled to keep their voices from giving too much away. Cordehlia shuddered, squeezing him as her orgasm swelled. He eased her softly as she collapsed against his chest, her forehead in that sweet dip between his muscles, the top of her red head tucking neatly under his nose.

His hand strayed to the back of her neck, softly and slowly rolling her over on the ground. Cradling her beneath him instead. His body cried out for more. Always more of her. But not before he inhaled that scent, the perfume of her sweat and life itself, verdant grass and blooming flowers. That scent triggered an instant sharp return of what they once had been.

What he wanted to find again more than life itself.

It wasn’t much longer, not as he chased that past feeling of being with her in their youth. Not as he pummeled into her channel, her legs splayed in the air over his shoulders, until there was no sound but the wet slap of flesh and their groans as they burst into their climaxes as one.

Astarion stilled, pulling from her wet to lay on their sides and wrap his arms so tightly around her. “My sweet…” his voice rumbled into the damp and errant strands of her hair where it clung to her sweating forehead.

Her warm and blushing face nestled perfectly into the dip beneath his chin. The bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed and caught his breath was so loud against her ear. “Almost ready for more?” she hummed, tracing her fingers slowly over his skin, brushing over the drying damp on his stomach.

“You… insatiable… minx…” he laughed as he kissed her head again. “I know I am an eternally young, handsome, well-fed, impossibly strong vampire… but even I have limits to my near-infinite well of endurance, my love.”

She flashed him those silver pools of her eyes, glinting with mischief. And then her lips pouted. “After all we endured today… you would make me take care of myself?”

His brows shot to his hairline, mouth twisting in a devilish smirk at her game. “And which one of us is acting the spoiled little elfling now?” he taunted, hand straying to ass to give that supple cheek a little slap. “Tch, naughty.”

“Going to chastise me… punish me for being so spoiled and demanding?” she purred, a slight tilt to her head in defiance, a wriggle of her rear as a silent plea for more.

Astarion lifted his head to slink one of his arms behind it. “Perhaps later… once I’ve regained some of my vigor after you’ve made every one of my limbs ache and since you’ve already taken… so much of my seed between your thighs, pet.” He pretended to close his eyes, watching through the lowered curtain of his long lashes as she pouted and crawled over his body until she pressed herself flush against his side.

“I’ll give you five minutes…” she whispered right into his ear. “Enough time for me to tend to my own needs, I suppose…”

Wet… slick little sounds laid under her voice. Her fingers touched herself, stroking in the thick mix of their cum so loudly, so obscenely squelching.

He turned his head with a dramatic sigh, opening that hungry crimson gaze only halfway so he could watch. “You really are a demanding commander aren’t you? So bossy… so dominating… I would have undoubtedly been constantly aroused by you if I had been one of your men.”

Her perfect white teeth bit at her bottom lip, fingers still teasing slowly between her legs. “If you were under my command, you would know better than to defy your commander,” she smirked, eyes shut tight as her hips began to ride her touch.

“If I was under your command, I’m pretty sure we would both be dismissed for fucking each other every night, darling…”

Her belly swirled at that, at the mere mention of how much they indulged now, how she chase her blood lust away with more lust for him, at how very much she craved their connection, rekindling what once was and discovering what would come next. Side by side. “You wouldn’t have made it one day without coming in your leathers at the sight of me in my armor, and you know it,” she taunted, a dark desirous smirk in his lips.

“Likewise, my sweet…” exhausted, he did let his hand stray a single finger down her side, stroking up and down over her curves with barely the tickle of a feather in his dexterous touch. “There is little you do that doesn’t make me unspeakably aroused, my love, my darling, my betrothed,” he grinned as her eyes fluttered open at that last loving title.

“Gods, I’ve waited ages to hear you say that again. Lived different lifetimes, dulled blades and threw my armor into the sea just to hear it again,” she whispered. Her voice tinged with that mix of sadness and longing. Her hand stilling as she slowed touching herself.

“What was it like, your fearsome mantle of the Lady Corvus, Bone Picker?” He watched her body tense, withdrawing into memories, and for a moment he wished he had just bit his tongue. Perhaps it was too soon after the blinding bloodlust today. Perhaps it was the exact right time. He waited, nervously.

Until she gave a wistful smile. “Black and hard and sharp. Little feathers etched into the metal of my breastplate and gauntlets. Pointed spikes darted from the shoulders, like talons ready to tear the flesh of my foes. My blood-red cape would billow in the winds that carried the ash of my decimated enemies. My helm was small, enough to let my hair hang wild and free, a crown of spikes encircling my head… spikes of iron I once replaced with whitened bone, plucked from the battlefield myself.”

Astarion exhaled deeply, sensing her mix of longing and grief. “Sounds fearsome,” he whispered. His fingers traced lazy circles up her back. “Show me,” he ordered. A curious tilt to her head, and he just sucked his teeth. “Use the tadpole, darling. And don’t you stop touching your sweet little body. In fact…” His mouth brushed against her lips, her eyes fluttering shut, “those fingers can only touch where I tell you… where I will show you…”

“I thought you were too tired…” she pouted, whining right into his mouth. And he silenced her with a bite of his teeth on her lower lip.

“You’ll be doing all the hard work, darling. Come on,” he purred, “it’ll be fun.”

Oh, there it was, that taunting, “I dare you” tone that hadn’t left his voice since his youth.

She could feel his mind sticking a finger into her own, just that little wiggle for her to open wide.

Air smelled of smoke, trees burned to stumps, rocks slick with blood. Astarion looked down from this high point at the field that sprawled below his feet… bones and blood already the feast of carrion birds. But behind him on this rise, she waited nearer to the trees, the ones that still stood, that still carried some blood spattered living leaves yet.

Warm wind swept her scarlet cape, fluttering it to the side, and her arm cradled that spiked helmet in its crook.

Her face, gaunt and pale and blood spattered. More than he had even seen at her side now. A wraith of vengeance, a weapon herself, sharp and deadly.

But it was her eyes that locked into his. Even in this hellish dreamscape. They sparkled like the starlight, growing wetter and brighter as he crossed beside her. “This was me, my love, the monster… the terror… the fighter.”

From the distance, he heard that same chilling deep voice they had all silenced for good today. Ketheric’s taunt, his final words, still embedded deeply in his lover’s mind it seemed: “You think to scare me… the fabled Bone Picker… the warrior of her people. She is but a puny, pale vestige of what her own father wanted her to be. Why do you think you can finish what the great General Aquilae could not?”

Cordehlia’s voice had rung back harder than steel: “Because I’m so much more than what any Father could ever dream up for their child. As if you know anything about that… traitor… deceiver….” She raised her blade for a final swing. “Failure!”

The voices were swallowed by the sickening sound of blade and bone.

And Cordehlia could only stand there before Astarion, arms just beginning to reach for her lover. To beg him to come closer.

“Darling…” he whispered, brushing the knotted strands of her hair from her cheek and shoulder. “You don’t have to fight anymore, your father is avenged at last. Nor do you need to fight to forget me. I’m right here.”

Her breath caught in her throat, cheek rubbing tenderly into the cup of his palm. “It was more than fighting to avenge my father. It was also about you… not to merely forget you… I fought to… punish you… to make you pay for leaving me, to destroy the memory of what we were. What we could never be again.”

Her voice was a hammer that struck his chest woven with her heavy guilt. Astarion winced, facing down that void of their separation, his sins staring back in that darkness. And he sighed, “It was probably far less than I deserved, my love.”

“No,” she shook her head, armor rattling from the quick little shakes as she trembled. “No, you didn’t know, you couldn’t remember. Enslaved and compelled. Forced to obey and forget. Who you were to me was stripped from you… but I… stripped myself from my soul on purpose.”

Her hand flung that bone-horned helmet far away, its clattering the only sound around them. She watched it tumble over the rock and blood.

“Well,” Astarion’s voice was pressed, careful, “we may have both suffered, drowning in our own versions of darkness…” He paused, turning her face up towards his, waiting until those sad, silver eyes finally looked at him. “But now, neither of us is alone. And our darkness will not determine our fate, darling.”

Warm and wet, he could feel her tears on her skin, sliding down her cheek.

He could feel it on his real palm, all visions aside.

“Kiss me,” she sighed, angling closer to his mouth, eyes shut tight against the sights of battle around her.

“Yes, my lady…” he gave his sweet submission, a little tender breath from her lips as they brushed softly. “But let me take you somewhere else… let me… strip away the pain that comes from this time... this armor.”

“Please, Astarion,” she groaned. Her hands suddenly clung into the back of his shirt. The metallic scent of blood dissipated into fresh grass, the sounds of fire crackling becoming the trickle of a forest stream. She knew where she was before even glancing through her lashes.

One more lingering, slow working of her mouth on his, and she pulled away with a contented sigh. Elven trees and moss and moonlight.

The perfect remembrance of their home. Of their little spot of nowhere. Far away, and long ago.

“No more battlefield to torment you from your past. No more fighting alone. Now,” he held her by her jaw, raising her face into his, “now, we fight together.”

Her throat bobbed under his hold, another tear forming and flowing from the corner of her eye. Her hand raised to brush the tear away. “You don’t know what it means to me for you to…”

“Shhh,” he quieted her with a kiss, trapping her hand in his. A spike of mischief in his voice and a hint of command in his touch. “I thought we agreed, darling, you would only touch yourself where I say…”

Oh… she shivered. That grief suddenly ignited inside her core to something hotter and fiercer. No more longing or anger… only them. And their needs.

“I stripped away your battlefield…” he eased his grip, sliding back a single pace. “Now… allow me to relieve you of such armor, my lady, my love.” His hands skated down the exposed skin of her neck, lighter than breath. “Whatever this armor meant to you then, remember, everything is new again. You… me… we aren’t what we were.” His fingers slipped the buckles from her armor at her shoulders, barely touching her body. “We are better.”

Black metal fell harshly behind her, deadened by the moss at their feet.

Slow little strokes across that crook at the base of her throat, and he could feel her body melting under his touch in her mind. Her hands held fast against his back, edging him closer, longing to press her body firmly against him.

But he tutted his tongue. “Don’t touch me,” he taunted, shaking her hands away. “And remember, you’re the one meant to do the hard work, darling.”

He gripped her true hand from her belly, sliding it over her warm flesh to where his fingers danced over her skin in her mind.

“Let my hands be yours… and only do as I do, not one little pat or stroke more.” He growled as he caught her lips. “I’ll know if you disobey, pet.”

She arched under his fingers that traced under her neckline. Her neck craned into his touch. “You want some reward for being obedient, my love, won’t you? Still touching yourself like I asked?”

Her body shivered against him in his arms, just enough for him to feel it. But from his words or her own touch, he didn’t know.

Preferably both.

“Yes,” she moaned, drawing closer for more of his touch on his skin.

“Good girl,” he praised, feeling her shiver as another one... two pieces of jagged metal fell at their feet. “So fierce, so daunting…” he purred into her ear, tugging harder and faster through the latches of her breastplate.

“I became a lot of things to lose myself in my pain and anger…”

“Tch, you were always those things, my lovely Cordehlia. You still are, even stripped of this mantle…” He flung the metal from her upper body to the ground, letting it clatter obscenely loudly. And then, his fingers locked firmly around both her breasts, a low deep breath from his nose as he smirked down at her. “And don’t I just love you all the more for it.”

She raised on her toes for a kiss, but his hands were faster, holding her down by her shoulder, a chiding tut on his tongue. “Naughty,” he hissed and taunted. “You only touch where I show you. My hands are your hands, my pet. Nothing more, nothing less…”

She looked at him with those big, wet, silver pleading eyes. “But…”

“An excellent suggestion,” he smirked, giving his head a little nod, so pleased with himself. His hands ran down her back, caressing through the soft linen of her shirt, finally coming to rest along her rear. “Your perfect, rounded butt is still too covered.”

His hands traced around the crests of her hips, gripping into the buckle at her belly and yanking it open. There was so much to her, metal and layers, but he also couldn’t help but notice how with each little piece of her armor, her hardened shell of Lady Corvus that he pulled from her flesh, she looked younger. Happier.

Freer. Healed.

Her skin glowed, her lips smiled as she bit them sensually and slowly under his touch… her touch on her real body.

Whatever it was he was stripping her of, it was more than memory and metal. He searched her eyes for more, tried wriggling deeper into her mind for more, but she didn’t let him. She was too overwhelmed with the feeling of shedding that weight, of his hands on her skin, cold and dexterous.

Familiar.

He could feel her craving, how she was lost to the past, desiring nothing more than the future that once was. He knelt at her feet, pulling off the last metal braces from her shins. He pressed against the smooth leather that enshrouded her skin. He wanted nothing more than to tear it with his teeth. So he did. He nipped into her thigh, the salt of her breeches coated in sweat made him salivate. The little buck of her body to push closer into his mouth shook him out of his mind. He needed her. Need to have her see him, here and now, alive and loved in his arms.

Real flesh, he slid his real fingers where she caressed up her thighs. Where he had just been nipping in his dreams. A quick shuffle down her body, and he pierced the flesh of her bent leg, the tender skin of her thigh giving so easily. His mouth filled with pools of her blood. She cried, arching under him, unsure if she was dreaming or awake. Those silver eyes flew open, the tingle of their tadpoles releasing its hold.

Astarion only gave her a quick bloodied smirk before returning to have more of his fill. Her hand wove into his curls, as she always did. As she always had done.

But the way her pulse throbbed from that lower artery between his lips, she thrummed with life.

One last broad brush of his tongue over those wounds, as he crawled that chiseled body over hers again. “You are mine, Cordehlia, my raven, my love. And no armor will ever protect you better than I will.”

“Yours,” she sighed. “I feel lighter, empty of that weight.”

“Wouldn’t want you empty for long, darling. Need me to fill you with something instead of grief and anger?”

She buried her face beneath her arm for a moment, hiding that radiant smile, a moment just for her. A moment where she finally savored that weightlessness, that floating feeling he had given her as he stripped her from those memories. From the bile that had poisoned her all those many years ago. Of what she thought she knew from that time… from what she thought she… had known of him. And for a man who had starved, survived torture and assault and whoring himself out, now this man sucked the venom from her heart.

With a rogue’s dexterous touch, he had peeled off the painful layers that had built because of him, stripping her with his own two, living hands. He drew his fingers up her panting belly, his exhale deep as he stayed his hand to grip and knead her breast. Those eyes, fierce, possessive, drank in her every reaction. “Need something, Cordehlia?”

It was a simple question, but that purr in his voice, that heavy-lidded gaze that flitted over her neck, her lips, her breasts, it all spoke more than the simple words that he whispered.

“I need…” she whined, sliding her body to buck against him. Wanting nothing more than to be crushed and confined and caged by his body. “I need…” she panted. No words came to her tongue. So she thrust it into his mouth as it barely hovered over her own.

You. The rest of her words filled his thoughts. Even without the tadpole.

His hand cradling her neck, Astarion gave her everything, trying to fill that void he had seen, that agony he had witnessed with his own two eyes. The pain he wanted to carry for her, instead of her. He knew what it was to struggle under the weight of darkness and loss. He carried so many of his own burdens, but he would gladly take hers on too, if it meant she was lighter.

If it meant she was happy.

If it meant she was loved as she should have always been.

Gods, he groaned as he filled her again. It didn’t matter how many times they had done just that tonight… this week… it was never enough. He had centuries to make up for. His arms held on to her for dear life, wrapping around her shoulders, bracing his legs to keep her thighs wide. His to keep. His to protect.

Her body bent and pressed to mold to his throbbed with the feeling of him, of how he covered her every inch. With every thrust inside her, that chilling gnaw of her bloodied past receded, a flood that ebbed away. And all that was left was fertile ground for new things to grow.

[kawareo]

what were some of your fav scenes/fights in bg3?

also completely unrelated, but what were Strike’s pre-tadpole stats?

oh boy okay stats first, then the ramble under cut ^-^

I said before that his stats as Durge would be pretty op, and I do know that they are, but I think the fact that he devolves so much before the events of the game evens him out lol - he was also multi-classing into a Fighter. I was trying to think of him more of in a 'what if he was the miniboss instead of Orin' way, rather than as if he were a playable character

After tadpoling, his stats have nearly halved, except Charisma which is still pretty high (like 17 at the start, i think)

I really like the Nere fight for some reason, especially if I made a deal with the duegar and also am trying to keep the gnomes alive!

And the entire part in the Ilithid colony, i love parts where you can clean out a place room by room, and then the big fights, once I figure out the strategies for them (for example, the Moonrise towers, creche, or protecting the grove, love when I learn how to beat them). Also in my evil Durge run every fight is fun because I have Lae'zen, Minthara, Shadowheart's spirit guardians and my sorcerer who can deal two level five spells per round if needed, so we kind of just power through every fight lol

All of the romance/sex scenes are lovely and I could stare at them forever, personal favorite is the Halsin one. The dance scene with Wyll is super cute. The entire tiefling party slaps absolute ass I love that section. Haarlep scene, too! Genuinely scary! That thing scares the shit out of me but their scene is so fun to watch.

Some of my all time favorite scenes are also Ketheric's introduction, Gortash and Orin talking (orin's va fucking killed it there with the "yes so no sir rip and cut your throat sir", i can quote that entire scene from memory), Minsc' introduction! Dame Aylin and Isobel kiss! The coronation scene! Anything where Auntie Ethel shows up! Rolan!

Lmao it might be shorter if I just tell you things that I dislike tbh, the list is shorter; i love Lae'zel but after act 2 I kind of really don't care about her storyline? I dont know why but the political coup and the githyanki drama just isn't that interesting to me. I couldn't care less about Orpheous, either. Genuinely fuck that Lorroakan fight I hate it form the bottom of my heart. Haven't found the dragon yet and I'm scared in advance because I heard some scary shit. I haven't had to fight any of the Thorm family yet because I always charisma my way through them but in my new run I'll try them, the fights look like a bitch though. It's mostly the gityanki stuff (besides Lae'zel herself) that i don't care that much for , almost everything else I can find interest for

[pupkinpumpkin]

I feel like Choose Your Fighter by Ava Max and The Consequence of Imagination is Fear by Junie&TheHutFriends are both great songs for BG3 animatics

Like, I feel like Choose Your Fighter would be a great song for the Character Creator section of the game and a fantastic MAP. I mean, there's so many different races and classes, you literally get to choose your fighter. Anytime I hear it I just imagine a giant collaboration between artists drawing their own Tavs and all these different scenes where every Tav handles a scene from the game differently. One runs headfirst into a fight while the other charms the enemies. Just a fun animatic that shows the charm of the game through all the different directions you can go and the different people you can be

And The Consequence of Imagination is Fear is a great song to cover the whole game, with lyrics that match Durge pretty well

"I hear from the witches" (the hag)

"fear sounds of the dead" (Ketheric Thorm or just any old undead enemy)

"the source of the itches lives under my bed" (show a Durge or Tav sleeping, then pan down underground to the Bhaal Temple and the Dead Three)

"Thе antidote we look so hard to find

To purge yourself of fear, relax your mind (parasite)

But heaven only knows

Where my mind leads, the feeling grows (the Urge or the growing parasite)

It knows the consequence of imagination's fear"

You can even add Astarion in there pretty easy

"I met a man downtown the other day with ruby eyes that took my life away."

Idk, I can't animate, and I haven't watched too many animatics, so maybe these already exist, but any time I hear these songs, Bg3 just plays in my head

[mumms-the-word]

A Faerûnian Masterlist

I write mostly SFW fluff, angst, and adventure fic. Below you'll find plenty of cute moments, witty banters, angsty arguments, action scenes, and the occasional slightly NSFW hint that fades to black. Most of my writing can be found under the tag my fic.

Contents:

⭐️Popular One Shots⭐️

✨Tav/Durge Masterlists✨

🔮Gale Fic Masterlist🔮

🔍Deep Dives Links🔎

📚Masterlists for Multi-Chapter Fics📚

Click here to read all my works on AO3

Enjoy!

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⭐️Popular One-Shots⭐️

The top three things that have been Doing the Notes the most

Choosing to Live - Gale x You/Reader in which Gale struggles with the complicated emotional fallout of not obeying Mystra's command to self-destruct in Moonrise Towers (AO3 link) Ascension, Return - Gale x You/Reader where you're witness to Gale's ascension to godhood before he leaves to give the Crown of Karsus to Mystra...and you're a little scared he won't come back. (AO3) A Final Death - Gale x gn!Tav where Gale has ascended and has returned to his chronically ill lover in order to ascend them, only to realize that they have died while he was exploring godhood. He departs for the Fugue Plane to find their soul and offer them divinity once more. (AO3)

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✨Tav/Durge Fic Masterlists✨

🎻 meridan “dani” zavrai ✶ mephistopheles tiefling ✶ college of lore bard ✶ entertainer ✶ chaotic good ✶ romanced gale ✶ fic master list ✶ ao3 ✶ tags: dani, meridan zavrai

🏹 ardynn harrow ✶ half wood elf ✶ beastmaster ranger ✶ outlander ✶ neutral good ✶ romanced halsin ✶ fic masterlist ✶ ao3 ✶ tags: ardynn, ardynn harrow

⚔️ freyr ✶ human ✶ eldritch knight fighter ✶ the haunted one ✶ chaotic evil > true neutral ✶ romanced minthara ✶ fic masterlist ✶ ao3 ✶ tags: freyr

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🔮Gale Fics Masterlist🔮

Masterlist of the various Gale x You/Reader or Gale x gn!Tav oneshots that I wrote whenever the urge struck me (ao3 link to the series)

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🔍Deep Dives🔎

Long posts that sparked my hyperfixation and had me red-string-theory connecting lore dots until I landed on a narrative that made sense in my head

tags to other metas: bg3 meta, bg3 lore, bg3 discourse, deep dive

Gale and Mystra (and Mystra, and Mystra...) - Meta post that dives into Forgotten Realms lore to discuss Mystra's multiple lives/deaths, how Gale fits into the timeline, when Mystra visited Gale, etc Shadow Curse Events series - Meta posts that dive into Ketheric's descent into Sharran zealotry, his war against the Harpers and Druids, and the first 40 days of the shadow curse. Illithid Souls series - Meta posts that dive into the D&D lore about illithids and souls before turning to look at how the game uses/changes that lore by examining Tab/Durge, Orpheus, Karlach, and Gale after they become mind flayers. When was Gale Chosen? - Another timeline combing Faerûn lore with Gale's timeline, along with a poll where a couple hundred people voted on Gale's age when he was Chosen. (not a deep dive, but could be helpful)

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📚Ongoing Multichapter Fics📚

A Macabre Masquerade Masterlist

Plot: One year after defeating the Netherbrain and saving the city, Dani and Gale receive a mysterious invitation to a masquerade ball. The invitation specifically invites them to participate as the Heroes of Baldur's Gate. However, when they get there, they soon realize they aren't the only Heroes of Baldur's Gate that got invited.

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In Fathoms Below Masterlist

Plot: The island city of Nautera disappeared over 4500 years ago, if it ever existed at all. Now not a single, legitimate record of Nautera exists, save for one. The Nauterran Account. Long thought lost, it has recently been retrieved from the depths of Candlekeep’s archives and placed into the capable hands of one Gale Dekarios. With the Nauterran Account in hand and an eclectic team of Baldurians and other allies mounting an official expedition, Gale journeys to find the ruins of Nautera…but hopes to find so much more.

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[bootydukedraws]

Another NPC sketch commission, this time with painted shading. This guy's called Kether, and he's a rabbitfolk trouvere or harengon bard-fighter multiclass if you wanna use official dungeons and dragons vocab

Kether's the kind of guy who chose his job based on how easy it'd be to piss off local lords, but still finds time in his week to play in his grandma's bridge games.

If you want a character portrait like this, maybe for an npc in a tabletop game of your own, feel free to dm me and we can work out a price based on what you'd like!

[sorryseraphim]

needed release

I'm just a girl, I need Enver Gortash to eat up my dark Urge, Helene after they asked everybody out of the office.

Read below:

(Also in AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55459897)

"If you just had, the slightest idea how to listen, and not just hear, we wouldn't be dealing with this concern right now!"

No one moved. No one even dared look at Helene's gaze as she looked over plans derailed by an inconvenience made by both her and Enver's people. It was one simple task: deliver a letter to Moonrise for Ketheric Thorm regarding their plan to snatch the Grand Duke, Ulder Ravengard.

Their plans were almost compromised, the stupidity of the persons tasked to deliver manifested during the journey to the gloomy fields of the Shadow Cursed Lands. They almost revealed themselves to a few passing fighters in green and brown. If it weren't for Helene's intuition that misfortune would strike and order a few more people to trail those who are tasked to go ahead, they'd experience unimaginable setbacks.

"You will not lay a finger on them," Enver grumbled, sitting opposite her by the table. He was trying to keep his composure in check, but he was also stressed. Rubbing his left temple as he listened to her outburst, her words getting louder and shrilly as she went on.

"I am a sorcerer, Gortash. I don't need to use my bare hands!"

"Everybody, out!" He finally shouted, his patience wavered, standing up from his seat.

Several nervous glances occurred around the room as Enver's order sank in. When nobody moved, Helene let out another roar.

"Whoever is still in this room after a minute would lose their head!"

In a flash, everyone shuffled out of the small dwelling they were gathered in. Enver walked up to her with long strides, his voice hushed with a hint of anger.

"Are you out of your mind?! Displaying your outburst like some kind of an ungrateful child?"

"Would you rather just have me kill them immediately, without question, without a word?" She fired back, fingers flexing on her side, a clear indication that her anger was at full throttle.

He hissed softly to his side before looking back at her with dark eyes. He rested his hands on her shoulders as he tried to push her down the table, towering over her. "Sit down on the table and relax. Let's talk."

"Let me think, Enver," Helene said, her hand on her right cheek, pinching herself hard enough to leave a reddish mark.

"I said sit down," he insisted, pushing her by the edge of the long table on which various reports and letters were sprawled out. His tone was striking, commanding in a sense that he would not take no for an answer.

She swatted his hand away, shushing him. "What the fuck are you doing? I said let me think!"

"Relax, Helene. I'll take care of it. Let me take care of you," Enver's tone suddenly switched into a whisper. He held her chin in one hand while the other traveled to her size, squeezing her curves gently. It immediately escalated to harsh grabs as it traveled down the dip between her legs, making Helene gasp in response, which Enver had immediately captured using his mouth.

Their lips meet violently, hungry for each other's warmth despite the pressing challenge they have yet to deal with. Just as Helene was deep in the kiss, his hand found its way in from the slits of her skirt, snaking its way between her legs. Enver let out a groan, voice hitching and amused at how wet she already was.

"Let me taste you, Helene... Gods, I want every bit of you for myself," Enver murmured in her mouth before he broke away, pulling a chair in front of her and sitting down. Without missing a beat, he slowly lifted the hem of her dress from her ankles, caressing her legs and kissing her bare knees up to her thighs. His lips touched her skin slowly and full of tenderness as he kept an eye on any signs of aggression she might pose in return for the gesture.

Her body began to melt in his touch, succumbing to the gentleness of his lips. Her nostrils stop flaring, yet her face is still red from anger. Slowly, her breathing shallowed, face softening as she looked down on him as he leisurely trailed his tongue up her thighs towards her tenderness.

She could feel his breath, heavy and feverish, against her skin as he neared her entrance. As if on cue, Helene lifted her entire skirt up to her waist as he started to part her legs, wide enough to push his face in and pleasure her.

He raised her leg up his shoulders to reveal her cunt, which was starting to get soaked as Enver rubbed her legs, his palms rough against her own soft body, the feeling of his hands making her shiver.

"Make it quick..." She breathed heavily, biting her lip as his lips brushed against her folds, her body tingling for the pleasure to come.

"I'll take care of everything; let me just take care of you right now,"

When his tongue made contact with her cunt, it was as if her burden was washed away. The weight of the world lifted from her shoulders as Enver devoured her, savoring every bit she gave him, her soft moans and sighs of bliss.

He pushed the tip of his tongue deeper between her folds, greedily tasting her wetness, as he grabbed her tightly by the waist. He could feel her softly squirming, legs trembling as he increased his pace. Enver could hear the slight hitching on her voice and her attempts to repress her moans as it started to get louder, enough for the whole room to hear.

Helene watched as he lifted his head for a bit, resting a hand on top of her womb as his thumb rubbed her clit, looking up at her as he lapped her entrance. It took everything in her not to whine desperately as another gush of her need rushed out. Helene let out a soft groan as she watched him look up, grinning from between her legs, half of his face drenched in her wetness.

She gripped the edge of the table hard when he went down again, this time desperate and with urgency. "Gods above... Enver, you're driving me mad..."

"Are you close?" He whispered between the act, sucking and lapping her juices as he picked up the pace.

She looked down at him, nodding quickly as she suddenly gripped his hair, tugging it desperately as she neared orgasm.

"Anything for you, my dearest," Enver whispered finally as he began rubbing her clit with haste as his tongue traveled the entire length of her folds.

She could feel it coming, about to burst and wash her body with ecstasy when they heard a knock on the door, followed by a soft rustling of the door knob.

In an instant, Enver stood up, hands off her body as Helene followed and straightened her stance, making sure her skirt was not bundled up her waist.

He took a few steps away from her, turning around momentarily to wipe his face off Helene's wetness as she shouted towards the door. "I did not ask anyone to come back yet!"

"But Priestess, we received word just now. Lady Orin has delivered urgent news."

"For fuck's sake..." She whispered, sighing, "Come in, and let us hear it,"

As their subordinates started to pour in, Enver noticed how her hands twitched on her side, making him smirk. She was subtlety displaying her frustration, an itch to murder someone who dared interrupt them just before she was about to reach orgasm.

He moved around the room, back to where she stood, and whispered, pointing out her fidgety hands to murder, to keep her cool and let patience take over as they discussed news brought by her blood kin.

"I am well," She hushed in return, "But whoever that is that interrupted us would lose their tongue in the morning. I'll take care of it."

[phoebus-cluster]

I'm Oathbreaker Tav I'm Fighter Lae'zel And we're the BONK SISTERS Featuring some of the most satisfying bonks: balthazar, cazador, and lorroakan

had this idea in my head and had to get it out. once these two learned extra attacks, tav got the 'aura of hate' buff, and i picked up corpsegrinder and ketheric's warhammer, it was OVER for these bitches. bonking all our opps into sloppy joe meat. and that's when astarion wasn't OHKO sneak attacking/gale doling out fireballs like es NADA. (made myself the tiniest bit sad drawing my little astarion. poor baby) on a more serious note, playing this game has revived a long dead desire to make art. it sucks because i've backslid so hard, and feel like i'm learning how to draw a ton of stuff all over again. but, overall i'm so happy i'm drawing at all, and with great fervor. thanks to bg3/larian for putting a fire in my heart, as well as one under my ass. and y'know what? one in my loins too for all these hot, lovable, pan/bi characters.

[ilikedetectives]

*Baldur's Gate 3 Act 2 spoilers*

Me when I heard Ketheric needed to build an army, but turned the best fighters and assassins that House Baenre had to offer into thralls and food, instead of converting them all using the tadpoles and letting Minthara lead.

[blackjackkent]

OK, into the basement of Danthelon's Dancing Axe.

Rakha is mildly curious to meet the Harpers of Baldur's Gate; the ones at Last Light seemed, by and large, like sturdy fighters, and she expects these to be no different. She's also acutely aware that Jaheira is deeply stressed out on her account, and that going to see the Harpers seems to have brightened her mood a little, which seems important.

It is, however, a rather unprepossessing group that they find in the Dancing Axe's basement, fronted by an extremely young and nervous-looking half-elf with dark hair who approaches as soon as he sees them enter.

"High Harper!" he says nervously, stopping in front of Jaheira and inclining his head. "May Selune's Tears shine on this meeting!"

Jaheira goes still. The brief moment of open good humor vanishes from her face instantly; her eyes narrow and do a rapid flick-flick around the room, taking in the four other Harpers watching them, the two levels of the room, the open loading-dock balcony that opens onto a cliffside beyond.

"...A very formal greeting, Geraldus," she says neutrally, one eyebrow lifting very slightly. "You are well?"

Rakha registers the change in her bearing and is immediately on guard herself. One of her hands slips behind her, settling on the straps holding her quarterstaves to her back.

"Y- yes, High Harper," Geraldus stammers anxiously. "Standing beneath Selune's Tears." He leans extra emphasis on the words this time.

"The lad's a little nervous, Jaheira," one of the other Harpers - an older halfling woman - says smoothly, sidling up next to Geraldus and smiling blandly up at Jaheira. "We heard of your great victory against Ketheric."

Jaheira doesn't relax at this reassurance - and neither does Rakha. Her initial confusion fades rapidly to disquieting certainty as facts start clicking into place.

Narrator: [INSIGHT] Geraldus isn't nervous. He's terrified. And he's using 'Selune's Tears' as some sort of code.

Jaheira seems to have come to the same conclusion. She settles onto the balls of her feet, her hands hooked behind her. Rakha hears the subtle click as she releases the clasp holding her scimitars in place.

"I understand, Geraldus," she says - and there is a gentle note in her voice despite the sudden rigidity of her bearing. "Take a moment."

She turns her head to look at the halfling and raises an eyebrow pensively.

"And you, Harper..." she says. "There is something familiar about you." She tilts her head slowly to one side, then glances at Rakha with a sudden cheerful smile that doesn't reach her eyes.

"Doesn't she remind you of our old friend Marcus?"

Behind Rakha's back, the Weave begins to swirl in tight loops around one of her fists.

Narrator: Jaheira's meaning is clear. Marcus was a traitor, laying a trap. The same, it seems, is happening here.

The beast purrs hungrily in Rakha's head; it's been awake at a low rumble ever since her conversation with Gortash and is becoming desperate for the next burst of chaos. Traitors. Kill them. Kill. Kill. Killkillkillkillkillkill.

Perhaps, were she fully in control of herself, she might make the same decision - that if these are traitors to Jaheira, they must be dealt with summarily. There is, after all, purpose in killing a traitor... But she would be lying if she said it was such clear thoughts driving her now.

Strike while Jaheira has them distracted.

Her fist rockets forward, carrying with it a burst of thunderous energy that sends two of the Harpers flying out of the open dock wall into the air beyond.

(A/N: I took way too long getting these screenshots but I kind of love them. XD )

The whole battle takes less than a minute. As soon as Rakha starts moving, the others swing into action behind her; perhaps they were expecting something like this from the moment Jaheira dropped the hint. Lae'zel's sword cleaves sharply through another of the Harpers; Jaheira thornwhips the remaining one down from the upper level, at which point Wyll and Minthara make short work of him.

And Rakha's blood runs cold to see the corpses they leave behind.

"More of Orin's doppelgangers," she mutters, feeling a prickle of fear run up and down her spine that all but blots out any satisfaction she got from the kills. "How many has she brought to Bhaal's side, I wonder..."

[lemonina00]

Fanfic time: Zevlor X Allandra (OC/Tav) - I'm not gonna say goodbye

AN: Hello and welcome to this little fanfic snippet I teased in my Zevlor Chibi post. I have finally found the courage to post it. I am from Germany, so English is not my native language. I hope you all don’t mind too much. I’ve tried to make as little typos and errors as possible, but hey,…I have no beta, I die like Kanon. Actually, I have written fanfiction since I can remember, but I normally don’t publish my writing. Yet, with the BG3 community, I feel like being brave and sharing my stuff for a change.

This is really only a short snippet. Mostly a dialogue, I imagined my Tav Allandra and Zevlor having after freeing him in the Mindflayer colony. I was so disappointed and sad when he wouldn’t come with me, I had to let it out some way.

I have more little snippets for Zevlor and Allandra saved on my phone. If people are interested, I could post them. As well as snippets and scenes for many other BG cuties. In my headcanon, Allandra confessed to Zev at the camp celebration, that she spared Minthara. This is another snippet I wrote. Also, I imagined her and some of the Tieflings who did not condemn Zev to hold a little ceremony at Last Light Inn. Please let me know what you think! :) Now without further ado… here we go!

XOXO Cary  

I'm not gonna say goodbye

“Is that-?” Zevlor asked, his brows raised in question as he looked past Allandra at the female Drow, caught in conversation with Astarion.

“Minthara, yes!” Allandra confirmed his suspicion.

“After our raid of the camp, she was brought to Moonrise Towers, where Ketheric Thorm himself sentenced her to death for her alleged failure!" she explained the Drow’s presence.

“And you saved her anew?” Something akin to surprise crossed Zevlor’s features, but it lasted only a second, before his face turned solemn once more.

“I had to! It was I who brought about her failure in the first place!” The human woman raised her hands in a helpless gesture.

“You did not owe her anything!” Zevlor insisted. And he was right, of course, but Allandra still had her reasons as for why she’d helped Minthara a second time.

“I know, but after I freed her of the Absolute! Of their mind control, I saw that it was worth it! I know that she has committed heinous acts and that her people are despised by most...and I do not plan on fixing her or anything! I am not that naïve! All I know is that she is fighting for the right thing now! She's on our side!”

Her voice shook with emotion as she spoke. That little spark of hope she’d felt, when Minthara had accompanied her back to her camp, however small it might be, flickering within her heart. For a short moment, a heavy silence fell over the Tiefling commander and the human woman. Allandra’s gaze travelled back and forth between Zevlor’s burning infernal eyes and his bloodied armour.

“She is a paladin?!” the man in question suddenly asked, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“Yes! And one hell of a fighter!” Allandra didn’t even try and conceal the admiration she felt for the former Drow commander. There was no denying, that Minthara was a force to be reckoned with.

“Then I hope that she will make use of the second chance you have granted her!” Zevlor let out a heavy sigh, redirecting his gaze to Allandra’s face. “I hope she will keep you safe!”

The moment, his words set in with her, Allandra’s smile faltered. Unease welled up within her gut.

“Wait!....wait...Zevlor...are you not coming with us?” she inquired, looking at him closely.

Zevlor shook his head.

“I can't!” he breathed out, his eyes focusing on the ground in front of his feet, for he could no longer hold Allandra’s searching gaze.

“What?!” her voice rose and her eyes widened. “Then....okay....of course you do not have to!” A nervous laugh left her lips “This is not your fight after all!-“

“It is!” he cut her off, much more harshly than he’d intended to. A little softer, he tried anew. “It is, but I already lost it!”

“Nonsense!” Allandra shook her head, sending her messy brown hair flying. “You're alive!”

“Thanks to you!”

Ignoring his last words, the human woman tried reasoning with him. Maybe he would see reason? He had to! “If you cannot come with us, then...at least head back to our camp! It's just outside the towers. On the outskirts of Reithwin!”

“I can't!”

“Just....you won't miss it! It's not much, but you can rest there! And Gale will be there to heal you!”

Her words were all but tumbling from her lips, her heart growing heavy within her chest. Why was Zevlor being so stubborn?

“Allandra, I can't! I am sorry to... disappoint you any further! You must think me so ungrateful! Hells, I am truly sorry, but this is how it must be!”

“But....where will you go? What will you do now?” Allandra demanded to know, for she simply had to know. She’d spent way too many hours worrying about him. Wondering, grieving. Not again!

“I.... honestly, I don't know!” Zevlor confessed, dropping his arms down to his sides. “But...one thing I can promise you ...I will not do anything stupid...if that is what you're worried about!”

“You.... you're not making much sense, Zevlor! Yes, I am worried! Maybe we should...let me take you back to camp! Gale will give you a quick check up, just to be safe and if you still want to leave afterwards...well then I cannot hold you back, can I?”

Allandra tried but failed to convince him. The more he refused, the more inclined she felt to change his mind. He clearly was not being himself right now. And though she would not blame him, with what he’d been through, his reluctance to accept her help was slowly but surely wearing her down.

“Do not waste your resources on me! Go! I bet your companions are already waiting for you! I have no right to steal any more of your time!”

“You're not! And I'm not letting you leave when you're like this!”

If he could be stubborn und unreasonable, the so could she!

“Like what?” he asked. As if he had no idea of how much she cared.

“Like....like... you're so full of self-loathing!” There! She’d said it. Because what was the point in beating around the bush?

“Warranted!” Zevlor just shrugged.

“What happened to you was not your fault!”

“Oh yes it was! I wish it wasn't!” His eyes flew up to her face and he looked right at her, right into her soul with his blazing infernal eyes. And it caused Allandra’s heart to skip a beat.

“I wish,” he carried on, “I could be like you! That I could forgive so easily! That I had a heart full of mercy! But the crime I committed! The betrayal! The lives I destroyed! There is no redemption for that!”

“Not if you fight it! If you refuse it!”

“You really should go now!”

“Just.....just look at Minthara! We both know of the things that she did. She was not herself when under the absolute's spell!” Maybe comparing the two was a stupid idea, but Allandra was grasping at straws now.

“I do! And I dearly hope that she will honour your mercy!” Zevlor’s gaze remained as unwavering as his resolve. His face was a blank mask at this point and Allandra felt that close to bursting into helpless tears.

“That's not!...I do not want her...or you...or anybody else to honour me...like I'm some kind of saint! Because I ain't nothing like that!" she whined with her voice becoming embarrassingly thin.

For the second time, they both fell silent. And the silence felt suffocating and deafening. Eventually, Allandra had to accept defeat. Zevlor would not be coming with her! He would not join her in the fights to come! Her heart gave a painful tug inside her chest before it sunk to the bottom of her stomach. Once again, somebody would be leaving her. For the umpteenth time in her life, somebody was going to walk out on her. And there was apparently nothing that she could do, to prevent it from happening.

“So... that's it then? You're just gonna...vanish?” she asked, her big blue eyes searching his tired face for any signs that he might yet change his mind. “I really don't wanna weigh you down any further, but... it's not fair, you know?! I mourned for you! Back in the Shadow-Cursed Lands! We...we held a fucking service in your memory! And with 'we', I mean the people you think no longer care about you! Bex, Dannis, Alfira, the ...the kids! But... alright, if that is what you want then....so be it!”

Oh, she really was being unfair and she knew it, but once she’d let him in on her hurt feelings, she felt somewhat lighter.

“Forgive me!” Finally, Zevlor’s blank mask slipped.

“I do not need to! It is you who needs to do that!” Maybe this kind reminder would help him see reason. But it did not!

“Take care Allandra! May the gods be with you!” Zevlor spoke, crushing her remaining hopes.

“I'm not gonna say goodbye!” she shook her head, “Instead....I guess I wish you well and...here...at least, take this!”

Reaching into one of her coat pockets, she pulled out a small bottle, filled with a healing potion.

“Allandra, I-“ Zevlor wanted to refuse, but she wouldn’t accept any further contradictions.

“Take it! Please!”

Hesitantly, Zevlor took a step forward, closing the gap between them. Once he was within arm’s reach, Allandra held out the bottle. He wrapped his fingers around it. For a second, Allandra refused to let go. She held on to the bottle and she reached out with her other hand, to grab his wrist. Even through the thick material of her leather gloves, she could feel the heat radiating off of him. A strong reminder of his infernal blood. Her heart was racing once again, as she looked up into his eyes.

“If we live to see another day, we will be heading for Baldur's Gate next! There is a tavern there...the Elfsong! I used to go there often before this whole tadpole madness! I shall hope it still stands! Maybe...one day you wanna find me there?” Oh, she hated how much her voice shook and how needy she sounded in that very moment.

“I will keep it in mind!” Zevlor nodded and though it was no promise, it sparked a tiny flicker of hope within the human woman’s heart.

Reluctantly, she let go of his hand, just as Minthara returned to her side, to inquire what was taking her so long.

“Allandra! What in the hells is taking you so long? Does the Tiefling need a special invitation?”

“He's not coming with us!” she informed her Drow companion with a rueful expression.

“He's not?”

“No, Minthara... please...” Allandra hoped that Minthara would just drop the subject as to not hurt her any further. It was a surprise really that she had not yet started to cry.

“I see! ...Come now! Ketheric Thorm is not going to kill himself!” Minthara stated so matter-of-factly, that under different circumstances, this would’ve caused Allandra to chuckle. But with her emotions so on edge right now, it was not a soft chuckle that left her mouth. Allandra let out an incredulous laugh, before following Minthara towards the next chamber. Looking over her shoulder, she threw Zevlor one last sincere smile.

I'm not gonna say goodbye!

[havealotonmymind]

Pet Name

Summary: In which Astarion’s affectations start to rub off on a horrified Leviathala (OC).

Spoilers for the end of Act 2 and the start of Act 3!

Rating: Teen and Up

Category: Astarion/Original Female Character(s), Astarion/Tav, Astarion & Gale & Karlach & Lae'zel & Shadowheart & Tav & Wyll (Friendship)

Additional Tags:

Romance, Fluff, Pet Names, Established Relationship, Alcohol, Party Banter, Spoilers for Act 2 (Baldur's Gate 3), Spoilers for Act 3 (Baldur's Gate 3), Named Tav (Baldur's Gate), Tiefling Tav (Baldur's Gate), Fighter Tav (Baldur's Gate)

Also available on AO3!

To love someone so much as to unconsciously adopt their odd quirks and manners of speaking took careful study, if not outright gawking. It was a rather damning indictment, one that could not be readily explained away.

Leviathala had never been partial to pet names, both in using or hearing them. They always sounded much too saccharine. Princess, doll, sweetie pie—all borderline ridiculous and laughable. Her parents only used “honey” or the shortened “hon”, but never as true terms of endearment. No, when those were used, it was meant to summon the other to look over something in the house that needed fixing.

So Lev had never really seen the point. Until meeting Astarion, that was.

Pet names sounded natural coming from him. His flirtatious lines held the musicality of an amusing lie, but when it came to pet names, well…He used them with the same deadly precision as his daggers. A well-placed darling or love or my sweet was enough to kickstart her heart into rabbit-like hysteria. It was not long before she warmed to the sound of it meant just for her.

After finally confessing their true feelings to one another just a few nights before, not much had changed. He didn’t go around advertising their relationship to the others nor did she start openly fawning over him. The Gauntlet of Shar and the defeat of Ketheric Thorm took far more precedence than any sort of formal announcement.

That didn’t stop her from sitting closer to Astarion while they rested, nor him from leaning near enough for their hands to touch. Most times, she would twine her pinky around his and continue on with a conversation as if nothing had happened.

It felt a bit childish. They had sex with each other twice during the very first leg of their journey, after all. Strange how the smallest brush of fingers in front of the others somehow felt more scandalous.

It was Lae’zel, of all people, who finally made a comment about it. “Do you intend to hide your affections for one another the whole journey?” she snapped.

Lev watched Astarion head off to the Last Light washroom with a fond smile playing on her lips. That smile soon fell. “What do you mean?”

“Chk! This Plane’s intricate courting rituals bore me. If you wish to make your pathetic feelings known to him, you must take action lest he is snatched away.” Lae’zel then trod off in a huff.

A small laugh bubbled in the back of Leviathala’s throat. If someone as stoic as Lae’zel was encouraging her to be more open, then perhaps she ought to be so. So she reached out for his hand more often, asked to kiss him after hard-fought battles and once more before resting for the night. Their party made little comment, though she swore she saw Shadowheart and Wyll exchange gold pieces whenever she pulled back from a kiss.

Despite his now near-constant bragging about their relationship to anyone who would listen, Astarion never initiated any physical contact himself. No, his way of showing affection was far quieter than anyone might expect. Whenever he gifted her a new book, he would sit beside her and read one of his own. Once, he handed her a thin vial of scented seed oil he mixed himself then stalked back to his tent without a word. A soothing waft of honeysuckle and autumn crocus floated from within. It felt nice to apply to her horns every evening, and she found herself sleeping all the better for it.

He had also developed a habit of simply staying at her side to annoy her whenever possible.

“Astarion, if you’re going to hover around my tent, at least help me pack my things,” Leviathala said as she stashed the remainder of her potions inside her pack. It had taken her quite some time to get it all set for their journey back to the Gate, especially with the sheer number of spell scrolls she picked up. Organizing them for easy access during battle was essential.

A sentiment Astarion did not seem to share. His own pack was stuffed with more than half of their entire group’s gold, some interesting bits and bobbles, and around a dozen spell scrolls of varying effects and levels of damage.

His eyes fell from checking his perfect nails to the many stacks of books around her tent. “I’ll start with the essentials, then, shall I?”

Lev smiled. “You can store those in the Travellers’ Chest. I don’t expect we’ll find much space to camp within the city walls.”

“You have been quite the little kleptomaniac, haven’t you?” he teased. “Honestly, I think I might be a bad influence on you.”

“Most of those books were just lying there. I’m just giving them a new home.”

“Yes, locked away in a trunk.”

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t appreciate the steady supply of new books to read. Sneaky as you are, I do notice when my piles have been shifted,” Leviathala said as she turned back to her pack. Everything was in a handy spot, ready for use whenever she needed it. Everything except…

Her eyes scanned over her tent for her crossbow bolts. They needed to be on top for easier reloading mid-battle.

Astarion had seemingly given up on packing her books and was instead engrossed in a book of fables she’d picked up in the Underdark. The bolts laid on the next pile over.

As she pushed herself to her feet, Leviathala asked, “Darling, could you hand me that?”

The moment the words slipped, her blood ran cold. She hadn’t even thought about it, but that was the trouble, wasn’t it?

Astarion snapped to attention. “What did you call me?”

“I…Nothing special,” she said quickly.

His incredulous grin only grew. “Oh no, no, no. Deny it all you like, but I heard you.”

“You didn’t hear anything except me asking you to hand me those bolts please.”

“You called me darling.”

“Astarion—”

“Hm? I’m sorry, I only answer to darling now. My heart or my love will also suffice.”

“Astarion.”

“Funny, that doesn’t sound like a pet name to me.”

Her face felt like it was on fire. He knew exactly what he was doing, and she hated that that pretty smile of his almost coaxed it out of her.

Lev snatched the packet of crossbow bolts and stalked past him. “You are insufferable, you know that?”

“Darling, come now. Just say it one more time?”

Astarion did not let up even as their party finally hit the Rising Road at last. He called her all sorts of pet names, ranging from his usual my dears and my sweets to absolutely dreadful ones like little kitten and my heart’s calling.

It was a relentless barrage of sugary words that had their companions either giving them long side-glances or outright cringing.

Before he could say another word, Lev pressed a firm hand to his mouth. “Gods, if I call you darling or love, will you promise not to use any of those terrible pet names again? They’re ridiculous.”

His victorious smirk was unbearable. “Why, of course, my treasure.” He leaned in just a bit closer. “If you call me darling now. I want to hear it.”

Lev’s face grew hot. A few of their companions left to set up their tents, but Shadowheart, Karlach, and Wyll lingered just behind them, unloading the cooking supplies and setting up the campfire.

“Now now?” she asked.

“No better time than the present, as they say. Whoever they are.”

“Fine…” Her tail whipped all over the place in her embarrassment. “Will you please not use any silly pet names with me…d-darling?”

Karlach coughed to hide a very obvious cackle. Shadowheart patted her back and smiled at the both of them from over her shoulder. There again, Wyll not-so-surreptitiously slipping her a gold coin with a sigh.

“We’ll work on it,” Astarion amended.

“I most certainly will not.”

“Are you quite certain, my sweet muffin cake? Darling love and light of my life?”

Shadowheart curled her nose in disgust. “Gods, I can’t take much more of this.”

Leviathala glared at a point in the distance, refusing to look at him directly. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” Astarion said and pressed a quick peck to her temple. Her contrived anger dissolved in an instant. That was the first time he ever initiated something like that on his own. Lev brushed her hair away from the spot he kissed with a faint smile.

This awful chameleon effect reared its head again after they all settled in the Elfsong Tavern. With the looming threat of Gortash closing his fist over the city, Orin and her bloodthirsty shapeshifters murdering innocents left and right, and the matter of Duke Ravengard going missing, it was all their party could do to keep from buckling under the pressure.

That called for a time-honored stress reliever: a drinking contest.

Numerous tankards filled to the brim with ice-cold ale sat frosting before Lae’zel, Jaheira, and Wyll. A dark look not unlike that of the calm before a battle brewed over them, each determined to claim victory over the others.

Lev, Gale, Karlach, and Shadowheart sat at the nearest table to watch the chaos unfold. Halsin had sequestered himself in their rented room, trying to gain his bearings in a town bereft of nature by carving more wooden ducks than he knew what to do with.

“If you were in the ring, Shadowheart, I’d bet on you as the winner,” Gale said as he watched the others drink themselves into a stupor.

“Oh, I’m sure I would be. I just don’t feel like debasing myself in front of an audience like those three.”

Jaheira remained stone-faced after her fifth goblet while Lae’zel began to wobble. Wyll smiled dreamily off into the distance, but kept pace all the same.

Leviathala laughed, a high-pitched, short giggle that was half-hidden behind her hand. “I don’t think I’ll ask Wyll or Lae’zel to come with me to the Counting House tomorrow. They might not be able to stand after this.”

A hush went over their little group. A normal lull in conversation. Or so Lev thought.

“I think you’ve been spending far too much time around Astarion,” Shadowheart said all of a sudden.

Lev glanced up from her tankard, only to notice them all giving her pained smiles. “What do you mean?”

Shadowheart and Karlach exchanged an amused glance. “I mean,” she emphasized, “that you’re starting to sound like him.”

“What, just because I want to break into the Counting House, suddenly I’m a rogue?” Lev scoffed.

“It’s not that. You know that laugh he does when he’s pleased?” She looked to Karlach for assistance.

“Yeah, the one that goes ah-ha-ha!” Karlach mimicked his haughty giggle with a flare of her hands. “That one?”

“Yes, that one.” Shadowheart turned back to Lev. “You do that, too. You never used to laugh like that.”

Lev clapped a startled hand over her mouth. “No! That’s not…No, I don’t.”

“Er, you just did, soldier. I dunno if we would’ve pointed it out otherwise.” Karlach scratched the back of her head. “For what it’s worth, it is kinda cute, you picking up each other’s habits ‘n all.”

Gale smiled. “Lev, there’s no shame in mimicking someone you love. Those traits are why you love them, I imagine. Why, I think I affected Mystra’s speech well into our own relationship myself.”

Leviathala hid her face in her hands. “Gale, that’s not helping.”

Thank the Gods Astarion was out scouring the city for criminals to drain or she’d never hear the end of this.

“All right. Shall I tell you the little habits I’ve noticed Astarion picking up from you then?” he asked. “I don’t think Astarion himself has even noticed. I’m almost tempted to point it out to him the next time he mocks me for something trivial.”

“Go on. It can’t be any worse than me calling him darling or laughing like him.”

Gale’s eyes sparkled. No doubt he thought of that as an unintended challenge. “Have you noticed that Astarion has a propensity for flowers and mushrooms of late? He used to brush past them all as though they were naught but weeds. After our time in the Underdark, particularly after we infiltrated that arcane tower, he’s kept a sharper eye out. I doubt he’s using them to concoct his own potions and elixirs. Too much work.”

Lev had to admit, she had found much more herbs and flowers in her alchemy pouch lately. She initially chalked it up to not having time to go over stock, but if it was Astarion filling up her supply…

Perhaps it might be a sign that he’d taken a mild interest in her potion-making hobby, but it was also a matter of their party needing these ingredients to survive their arduous journey.

“So has everyone else, Gale. It’s far more convenient than hoping to run into a merchant carrying potions. Cheaper, too.”

“Yes, but he takes after your lead,” he pressed. “I once caught him reading your journal of potion recipes. He’s a rather rapt student when he wants to be. Especially when that teacher is you.”

Lev slouched in her seat. Gale might speak with all the authority of a scholar, but when that study was Astarion’s behavior, even she had been wrong before.

“Anything else?”

His confident smile fell. “Right, well—”

“He’s started to hum and sing more often,” Shadowheart pointed out. “Honestly, if you want to showcase similarities, you start with the obvious, Gale.”

“Humming and singing could just be a mere indicator that he’s in love!”

“Singing tuneless ditties about what he’s doing the moment he’s doing it? Lev started doing that much earlier than him.”

“That doesn’t annoy you all, does it?” Lev asked. “I’m no bard, but it helps me think a bit clearer when I’m organizing my things. Just a trick my mum taught me.”

Karlach gave a hearty laugh. “Nah, sing away, soldier! I like it. I think I only caught Fangs doing that, like, once or twice, though.”

“You’ve never set up your tent near his,” Shadowheart said. “He used to be silent as the grave, if you’ll pardon the pun. Now he hums off-key whenever he’s cleaning his daggers or sprucing up in front of a mirror he clearly cannot see himself in. I have half a mind to throw something at him when he does it.”

“Fine, I’ll concede that point.” Gale threw his hands in the air.

“You notice how whenever we go to a new place nowadays, he steers towards the books first? Just like Lev,” Karlach said. “They’re both rabid bookworms.”

Gale sat up straighter, happy to have regained footing. “Yes! That was another point I was going to bring up. When we broke into Sorcerous Sundries' vault the other day, he seemed to take particular interest in the scrolls and books. The magical treasures, wondrous as they were, he all but ignored.”

“He’s been looking for a way to safely read that Thayan necromancy book I gave him a while ago,” Leviathala pointed out. “That book he found in Sorcerous Sundries finally gave him the key he needed to be able to read the rest. Besides, he probably liked reading way before I was ever born.”

“That’s not the point, soldier, and you know it.” Karlach downed the rest of her tankard in a few gulps then slammed it on the table. “You rub off on him more than you think. He clearly does the same to you. It’s how we all act around people we care about, I reckon. We’ve all probably picked up each other’s little habits without noticing.”

The conversation was cut short when Lae’zel unceremoniously collapsed the moment she tried to stand up and get in Wyll’s face. Lev and Karlach went to collect her, smirking over as Wyll slapped a hand over his mouth and burped an excuse to the nearest chamberpot. The sound of his retching put many unfortunate people out of their meals.

Jaheira grinned at her victory, pushing herself to her feet. There was only a faint, almost imperceptible wobble to her gait as she headed up to sleep this off. Their group helped their other two companions into their own beds with some difficulty. Shadowheart was of sound enough mind to turn them both on their side and leave them a glass of water.

“I’ll prepare Lesser Restoration for tomorrow,” she sighed. Her eyes fell to the Amulet of Silvanus around Lev’s neck. “Unless you want to tell your boyfriend to stay away from your neck for one night to help me?”

“It’s a one-time daily use, Shadowheart,” Leviathala said with an amused smile. “You’d need to prepare Lesser Restoration regardless.”

Shadowheart heaved a theatrical sigh. “All right. I knew this drinking contest was a bad idea…”

“That’s not what you said when you bet on Lae’zel to pass out first.”

A rare genuine smile graced her lips for a moment. “True. Karlach owes me ten gold.”

They all exchanged cheery departures as they prepared for bed. Yenna had curled up on a sofa with her cat earlier in the night, already snoring away. Leviathala sat by the cozy fire, feet propped up on the other of the twin red sofas. The seat was quite stiff, so she sat at an awkward angle to stop her tail from cramping. 

Astarion slipped into their shared room well after twelve bells. He met her gaze with a start, like he was a kid caught sneaking out. Leviathala smiled and immediately put down the book she was reading.

“Not asleep yet?” he whispered as he approached.

“I was waiting up for you.”

“You didn’t have to. But I’m glad you did,” he said as he nudged her legs aside to sit beside her.

Leviathala couldn’t help but notice that he had unconsciously mimicked how she sat, even without a tail of his own to accommodate. She suppressed a laugh. Perhaps their companions were right, after all. Not that she would ever point out these newfound habits to his face.

“Good hunting?” she asked, nodding at the tiny trail of blood he’d failed to wipe away. A habit of his she almost thought intentional after the first few nights of drinking from her neck. After a while, it became apparent that, without being able to inspect himself in a mirror, he simply had no idea it was there.

“Very,” he said, wiping away the blood at last. “Some rude muggers trying to go after a small family. They tried all manner of nasty threats to get me to leave. The muggers, not the family. Not associated with the Guild as far as I could tell, but I’m sure some bottom-rung underlings won’t be missed in the grand scheme of things.”

Leviathala smirked. “You almost sound like a member of the Fist talking like that.”

Astarion made a face at the association. “Now that’s by far the worst insult I’ve heard tonight.”

“Sorry, love.”

An intentionally placed pet name, but one that got his attention all the same.

“Oh? Love, hm?”

“What? Just trying it out. I like the sound of it. More so than darling, at any rate.”

He put a hand over his heart. “Darling, how dare you.”

“I meant me saying it,” she added with a light laugh. “Pet names are just so…awkward. Calling you love feels right because it’s true.”

His real smile was always hard to pick out, harder still in the relative darkness around them. Just the quickest shift of his lips, almost as if he was used to hiding it.

“Darling and love are the same things at the end of the day. You should expand your pet name repertoire, my dear.”

“Oh, my dear’s a good one,” she teased. “You are very dear to me, my darling love.”

Astarion frowned. “Gods, now I know how it feels to be on the receiving end.”

“Feels strange, doesn’t it?” Leviathala said. “Almost inauthentic.”

His mock-offended expression made her laugh once more and she scooted closer to rest her head on his shoulder.

“You know I’m just teasing about the pet names, right? Don’t force yourself if it doesn’t feel natural,” he said, wrapping a heavy arm around her.

“Oh, don’t worry, darling, I won’t.”

He paused. “I can’t tell if you’re being cheeky or not.”

“My dearest heart, whatever do you mean?”

At this, he lightly shoved her away. “All right, I think it’s time we sleep.”

Before he could get up, however, Leviathala tugged on his sleeve. “Wait, no kiss before bed?”

“Make fun of my flirting methods enough, Leviathala darling, and you’ll find yourself wanting before long. Good night.”

She let him go, pouting. “Well…all right then.”

As they headed off to their beds, Astarion smirked at her sulking. “Don’t give me that, my dear. You’ll ruin my resolve.”

“Yes, that’s the plan.”

He made a show of rolling his eyes. “Oh, very well. I’ll indulge you,” he said in a manner that very much did not hide how eager he was.

She blinked when he wrapped an arm around the small of her back and pulled her to him. His lips found hers easily. They’d had much practice, after all. Leviathala was confident that he’d find his way to her in total darkness.

Astarion pushed forth with a hungry insistence that she met with a surprised, but equal fervor. She gripped his waist to steady herself, and he grunted appreciatively. When he finally broke away, he leaned his forehead against hers, hand still lingering on her cheek for just a moment longer.

“There,” he said breathlessly. “Satisfied, darling? Or…do you still want more?”

Leviathala rolled her eyes but smiled all the same. “Darling, how could I say no?” she teased and leaned in once more.

I’ll be honest, at this point in my playthrough, Lae’zel had already been kidnapped by Orin way before I rescued Minsc. I’m taking a bit of creative license with the timeline to let the party have a bit of fun at the Elfsong lol. Also the Astarion laugh I'm talking about is the short one at 14 seconds: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hoW6gyzEAIE Hope you enjoyed my little self-indulgent fic! Until next time!