#Melodic Black Metal Bg3

[sleeeepy-demon]

doctors hate her its part 9 of horrible bg3 memes i drew on paint

part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

[a-crazy-magpie-witch]

Sand, time between our fingertips

author note: Ok, so a dear friend of mine asked me to get back into fanfic territory, this time with some good ocxcharacter from Baldur's Gate 3

And, let's face it: we all should build MBD a shrine

Enjoy it @sleeeepy-demon

Tags: Melodic Black Metal x Astarion, oc x canon, soft fluff, some good ol' angst, snuggle, feels, some comedy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been very long while since he last felt like this.

Night time, a gentle breeze caressing his cheeks, and soft, white sand underneath his feet.

And while it felt like a dream, a pang of bittersweet melancholy would always follow: the memory of youth, carelessness... freedom.

Astarion could not recall exactly a true moment like it in his past, only echoes of it would reach his mind, among miriads of painful flashes of the torture and suffering millenia under Cazador's thumb, desperate to regain that carlessness and regretting the choices of youth.

Waves sussurating softly against the shore, his head was splitting and the carvings on his back burning; he could not stand the sight of his loss anymore.

Turning back towards the camp, he saw Melodic, knees to his chest, clear lilac eyes lost in the distant horizon.

The pale young vampire approached him, his usual sneer of disdain on his lips:

"And what might you be looking for in the distance?"

Melodic turned to the sound of his voice with quite an unusual look for him, a blend of surprise and... Something familiar.

Something Astarion didn't quite enjoy seeing on his party member's face as much as he thought.

Sitting one beside the other, silence claimed its place, deafening even over the tranquil seaside playing that evening.

But while sharp as the most vicious blade, an undertone of understanding and likeness was holding its unpleasant effect.

"I may not understand" began Melo, "but I do know what you feel now"

A look of surprise took Astarion's features, followed by a "tsk" of sarcastic nature.

"Of course you do"

"Astarion"

Mauve expert hands holding the now trembling vampire's ones.

"I know I may not be the most trusting on these matters-"

"What, besides eating the local flora like salad?"

"-yeah, but not the point!"

Melodic took a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

"I may not understand it, but I see and now your pain. That monster will hurt you no more"

"And how can you be so sure of it?"

"Because... because it's in the sand"

Complete astoundment took Astarion last drop of attention, the ridiculously phrase lacking any sense in his eyes.

"No, no! Listen! It's like the sand of time"

"I'm not following-"

Frustration roared from the fellow tiefling, still not sure of how to put his concept into words.

"Look! Time leaves its scars, it's true. i know it"

"But it's just like sand between your fingers. Good, bad, even worse can never be eternal. Even if it seems like it"

Melodic took a handful of it and threw it, fine grains falling gently back.

"It's not the same, and even good escapes you. But-"

"-So does suffering."

Astarion scoffed at the simpleton analogy.

"And how should that stop Cazador"

"Because! You have us now!...you have me."

Melodic enveloping the man in his arms, chest against his shoulders.

"And we can make new memories together. Happy ones. Even if they run though our fingertips"

Astarions laughed a bittersweet cackle.

"You're so weird"

He felt warmth after centuries.

Caressing his lover's arms, all his worries and preoccupations flew away.

He would cherish these moments and care for them for as long as he could

Just like time, sand fleeting between his fingertips, but no more eternal sorrow to afflict it.

[bladesandbhaalspawn]

BG3 Moodboards

Melodic Black Metal

[origin characters | other companions | npcs | tavs | durges]

for @sleeeepy-demon

pronouns: they/he

Tav/Durge: Tav

race: tiefling

class: bard

romance: Astarion 💜

want your own? here's the info!

[whitegoldtower]

Mairon and the Marchwarden: Hand Touching

(Yes I made Seregluin in BG3 because he’s so durge coded. Granted he’d have way more decorative scars than just that patch on his chin/throat but there we go)

🕸️

It’s never been skin-to-skin contact before now. His hands are always plated with steel, gauntlets strapped down, the cold metal of his prosthetic fingers warming under the maiar’s fleeting touches. Almost burning.

Mairon’s hands are hot, and Seregluin feels it through the steel. Only for a moment, and then it’s gone.

Until he removes his gauntlets to inspect the stumps of his index and middle fingers of his left hand, and that biblically hot touch resumes. It almost hurts, his sword-hand so used to the abuse he puts it through daily that he wouldn’t have batted an eyelid… were it not for the fact that Mairon was touching him. Again. Somehow, the touch of the maiar ignited each and every single one of his nerve endings, amplifying the sensation to almost unbearable degrees, and he watched, enthralled, as those golden fingers traced from stumps to knuckles, then casually turned his hand over, stroking along his palm, to his wrist.

Though previously deemed impossible, the general’s eyes blackened further, and despite his stoic expression, there was a crack in that castle wall; his throat bobbed as he swallowed, his mouth very suddenly dry, as if he had held his face, lips parted, mere inches over a pyre.

“How faithfully these hands have served me,” The maiar remarks, touching upon the blue-black veins that stretch like cobwebs over his musculature, like asps beneath his chilled skin, “And yet I have never looked upon them until this day. Your hands. My hands.”

The marchwarden schools his expression, becoming stony once more, so military in his mien as he lifts his chin, eyes forward, shoulders back, spine as straight as a poker.

“My Lord.” He speaks, and his voice, once melodic and smooth, is now a smoky whisper, hollow and metallic, like stone scraping iron. Yet there is a tenderness there, never witnessed by any except Mairon.

The copper-haired one tilts his head, charmingly, and Seregluin is captivated by his fairness.

“I should like to see them more often. It does not do to be deprived of the sight of one of my most valuable beloved assets. Is that fair, Gwathragur?”

The sound of his most intimate of names leaving his lord’s lips is the sweetest he could have fathomed, though he remains perfectly still. Statuesque.

“It is more than fair, my Lord. An honour, that they are to your liking.”

The maiar pauses, only for a brief moment.

“Show me the other one. I much desire to touch it. You wield your swords with both hands, do you not?”

“I do, Lord Mairon.” His tongue rolls as he speaks his master’s name, uttering it with as much reverence as his former kin would have for Varda, Manwë or Yavanna. As hateful as Mairon finds his mother-tongue, this seems to please him greatly, as the general presents his other hand, no less scarred, cold and grim than his left.

The maiar takes it, possessively, and scrapes his nails along the back of it, as a smith would to test the purity of gold, to see if it would mark. And mark it does, though Seregluin does not dare to flinch. Instead, his eyelids flutter, and - very much in the way elves lean into and embrace their emotions and bodily sensations - he allows himself to briefly indulge in the searing sting of it, feeling it deeply.

Then, that sting becomes a gentle ache. He closes his eyes, and when he opens them, white lashes tickling his whiter eyebrows, he spots the fairest of subtle smirks quirking Mairon’s lips upwards.

And he loves him. He loves him.

Perchance, somewhere within the maiar’s churning crucible of a heart, there’s a scrap of love for him, there, too, bubbling away under the slag heap of what was left of Mairon’s love for Morgoth.

[sleeeepy-demon]

part 11 of horrible bg3 memes i drew on paint. Give him all your money.

part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

[sleeeepy-demon]

fate spins along as it should, its part 10 (!) of horribile bg3 memes i drew on paint

part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

[sleeeepy-demon]

Horrible bg3 memes i made with paint

part: one

Part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

this are from march. The first 2 were drawn with a mouse lol. My friends are telling me to post them.

[sleeeepy-demon]

part 14. I GUESS.

(of horrible bg3 memes i drew on paint)

part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

[sleeeepy-demon]

click here for part 13 of horrible bg3 memes i made on paint near you!

part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

[sleeeepy-demon]

.paint on made i memes bg3 horrible of 12 Part

part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

[sleeeepy-demon]

Shadowheart doesnt think so

[sleeeepy-demon]

posts this and goes to bed so its no longer my problem