#bg3 fanfic reviews

[bg3ficreviews]

Thunder reforged: Rolan x Dammon - #BG3 FanFic Review

Review by Aivu (@aivuthedragon)

Happy timezone, dear readers! Today I'm happy to bring you this incredible series of works by velocitross on AO3. What's hotter than a tiefling wizard with a knack for a well-timed thunderwave? Said tiefling wizard having a rendezvous with his tiefling blacksmith paramour, of course.

A note from the BG3FicReviews team: The entire BG3 community was been rocked by the recent controversy surrounding Dammon's VA, including the various fanwork creators who've fallen in love with Dammon, included him in their work, and are part of the LGBTQAI+ community themselves. We want to express our support and love to Dammon fans, Dammon fan work creators, the LGBTQAI+ community generally and all those adversely affected by what's happened. As such, we have decided to feature such works in our reviews this week. Make your love louder than the hate. 💜

As always, mind the tags! Our review is continued below the fold due to the NSFW nature of the content in these works.

This incredible artwork by @arczism was inspired by velocitross's Rolan x Dammon fic Working Steel, which is included in today's review.

Working Steel, the first of velocitross’ three works that include this rare pair, is a masterwork in character portrayal. The author adeptly captures the at-a-glance somewhat incompatible personalities of the two tiefling refugees who fled Elturel together and now reside in Baldur’s Gate. In this work, the relationship between Rolan, the ever-surly wizard and the newly ‘appointed’ master of Ramazith Tower, and Dammon, the gentle yet infernally talented blacksmith of the Forge of the Nine, has grown far beyond mere friendship.

Rolan, frustrated by his attempts to catalogue the mindless chaos remaining after the untimely death of the tower’s former owner, approaches Dammon to ask for his help and visits him at his forge. But what could a blacksmith possibly offer a wizard? Well, a good fuck, for one thing. Rolan is pent-up, impatient, and needs a good lay. And, it turns out, so does Dammon. The smut that ensues is not only blazingly hot but also beautifully captures the tender affection between the two tieflings through not only their words, but small, unique gestures of love and care. (Mind the tails. I mean, tags. No, tails.)

In Up in the Tower, it’s Dammon’s turn to visit the wizard’s domain. But the blacksmith receives a less-than-warm welcome, as the ever-grumpy Rolan becomes highly annoyed at having his work interrupted. But considering Rolan is dressed in little more than his underwear and an open robe, I’m more than willing to forgive him for his surliness. Dammon, however, being the sweet, gentle soul that he is, insists on taking care of Rolan beyond his carnal needs alone. In this work, the relationship between the pair deepens, and the author has wonderfully captured the intimacy of the pair. Lastly, we have Within the Storm. This work takes us back to the Shadow-Cursed Lands as the tiefling refugees attempt to cross its desolate lands on their way to Baldur’s Gate. When the Absolute’s forces ambush the group, Rolan expertly wields his magic to stave them off. But when something happens to Zevlor, the battle takes a turn for the worse. In the chaos, Rolan’s siblings, Cal and Lia, are kidnapped and several of his friends and co-travellers are brutally murdered.

Once at Last Light Inn, Rolan is a fucking mess, devastated by his siblings’ capture. Lost in the depths of his despair and way too much drink, the tiefling wizard finds comfort in the arms of a fellow refugee he’d known since childhood - Dammon. And thus the gentlest embers of affection between the pair begin to spark to life. This lovely one-shot serves as a prelude to the author’s much-anticipated long fic about the pair, their growing affection for one another and what looks to be a truly beautiful love story. If you would like to follow velocitross’ incredible work about the love between a tiefling wizard and blacksmith, please be sure to subscribe to the author on AO3 and follow their work and the pending long fic. We have included a snippet of Working Steel below for your enjoyment. As always, please support the writers of our incredible fandom by leaving kudos and comments on their work. 🫶

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Working Steel

By velocitross on AO3

The ring of his hammer fills Dammon’s ears and his attention as he works. A soft frown of focus curves his lips. It’s a simple enough repair—restoring a blade for the halfling woman standing outside the forge watching him work. Still, there’s a satisfaction to it: the rhythm of his strikes, the heat of the day in Baldur’s Gate warming him beneath his layers of apron and clothing. The ordinary busy noise of the city goes on just outside his focus, a subtle, stabilizing comfort even months after the Netherbrain’s defeat.

When he glances up from his work, a distinct figure catches his eye amongst the passersby. Rolan, with his proud bearing and his regal blue and red robes, coming toward the smithy with a tense, bothered scowl and his tail lashing behind him. A smile touches Dammon’s lips. He knows that look.

“I’ll be with you in a moment,” he says as Rolan comes to a stop an awkward few feet from the halfling waiting on her sword.

“Well, don’t take too long,” Rolan snaps, and then reddens further when Dammon raises an eyebrow at him. “Sorry. I’ll just—I’ll wait.”

Dammon lifts the blade off his anvil to study it. He smiles at the halfling as he passes her the sword.

“Give that a try. Come back if you need anything else.”

She moves off to the side to examine the blade, allowing Rolan to step up to the forge. He stands, arms crossed, his face flushed as he fixes Dammon with his bright yellow stare.

“Anything I can help you with, Rolan?” the blacksmith prompts.

Rolan sighs. He places his hands carefully on the edge of the anvil, glances again toward the halfling woman, and leans in toward Dammon.

“I need . . . Steel.”

Dammon breathes a good-natured chuckle.

“Come on,” he says, nodding over his shoulder toward the building. “I could use a break, anyway.”

[tolnas-vault]

Fic Review: Respite

Reviewed: April 18 2024

Fic Data

Rating: E

Status: Complete

Word Count: 5840

Main Ship(s): Halsin/Zevlor

Side Ship(s): None

Other Side Character(s): None

Summary:

Zevlor opened his mouth to reply, then closed it. He wanted to object that he hadn’t gotten much sleep lately and he was doing just fine. But he sensed something in the druid’s words. He was likely not that concerned with his circadian rhythm, actually. Was he… flirting? The possibility threw him for a loop. No, it was a silly notion. Make advances to someone like him? A broken paladin, a man who was still together only because he wasn’t allowed to fall to pieces, not at that time. No. Must have been his imagination.

- Halsin helps Zevlor relax a little during the celebration. He has a few ways to do so in mind

Ao3 Stats (As of April 18 2024)

Halsin/Zevlor on Ao3: 22

Halsin: 3853

Zevlor: 398

Review (Mild Spoilers Only, 18+ Only Under Cut)

Warnings: Drug use (Fantasy Pot), Shotgunning, Anal Sex

Favorite Quote:

"He wanted to object that he hadn’t gotten much sleep lately and he was doing just fine. But he sensed something in the druid’s words. He was likely not that concerned with his circadian rhythm, actually." 

Main POV: Zevlor

Thoughts:

One props to this fic for a more subtle representation of someone's first time with pot.

Two I very much enjoyed Zevlor's perspective in this fic. The tension felt very really, and very relatable. You can see the build up to the man who would stumble in the Shadowlands.

Three I always love a fic that gets that exact balance of Halsin patiently asking for consent, while being very very excited to couple with his partner. I feel as though this gets to the overall appeal of Halsin, sex positive in a way that never feels like pressure.

A very hot read with some great character work on Zevlor's end.

Who I'd recommend this fic to: Fan of, what are the kids calling it nowadays? Old man yaoi? I also think this is a great fic for fans of Zevlor, particularly those who relate to his struggles. And those who wish Halsin would help them relax too.

[hadesgirl015]

Chapter 12: The Party

A well deserved party, with some confessions.

Story Summary:  Telvelni (Tav) is an Iron-Hand Gnome, after getting abducted by mind flayers and infected with one of their tadpoles, she must make her way back to Baldur’s Gate with the important information she had received.  Information she paid a lot for and could potentially be a turning point for her clan.

[enseea]

Clarion Call, Chapter 13: Icarus

Chapter summary: The past and the present meet in the bowels of Moonrise Towers, and Akhaten regresses.

Pairing: Astarion/The Dark Urge

Chapter snippet below!

Story summary:

In a world where soulmates can speak to each other telepathically, Astarion’s Bhaalspawn soulmate went quiet shortly after she’d discovered his identity as one of Cazador Szarr’s spawn and promised to free him from his torment. After he’s kidnapped by mindflayers, he resolves that she doesn’t matter, anyway - he’s free now, and she's done nothing but make false promises.

But she is closer than he thinks. Akhaten remembers nothing - not her name, not her past, nor her soulmate. She’s too busy figuring herself out to truly think on the quiet soulbond, but she yearns, regardless.

Eventually, these two will be on the same page. Until then, they remain two monsters stuck on the same never-ending wheel. This is the story of how they find their freedom from their masters, and from each other.

Series: blood in the water on AO3.

Click more for a snippet of Chapter 13!

“You’re safe, darling. You can come back.”

She tried. But when she came close, that gaping ache inside her chest grew wider and she wanted to do nothing but wail like an injured ghost, bereft. So she just shook her head, and whispered, “I can’t.”

His eyes gentled, and he caressed the crown of her head. He swallowed. “Alright,” he said, and once more, softly, “alright, darling. I understand. Go where you must.”

She nodded, unable to keep his gaze. “Okay.”

“Okay.” And he patted her head again, and he stepped back from her, and turned around with a loud clap. He said something to the others, a declaration of some sort - she’ll be fine, not to worry! - and then Akhaten was gone once more, and only a shade was left behind.

[los-gatitos-luciran-muy-lindos]

ೃ⁀➷ * Character Song Association * * Character : Halsin * \♡˳ Baldur's Gate 3 ♡˳/

⋅ʚFather Neptuneɞ⋅

♡Imagine Setup♡ɞ⋅ ༘⋆Taking place after saving baldur's gate and getting rid of those tadpols in your head, Halsin is ready to take his leave to reunite with his old friend as well as the grove. Wishing him well as he heads back to what he will always love the most, nature.·:¨༺

[bg3ficreviews]

CALLING ALL BG3 FANFIC READERS & WRITERS!

We're officially opening our doors to more reviewers!

If you love reading fanfic and want to support our community and share your favourite works, please reach out to us about joining our team!

We have recently published draft fic review guidelines and we're ready to start taking on more reviewers! Please send us an ask & tell us more about yourself. Please also send us your email address and/or Discord details so that we can reach out to you. We're very excited for the future! 🙌

We look forward to hearing from you! Reblogs appreciated!

Much creative inspo to you,

Aivu 🐉💜 Editor/Reviewer, BG3 Fic Reviews @aivuthedragon

[tolnas-vault]

Fic Review: Breathe Easy

Reviewed: April 16 2024

Fic Data

Rating: T

Status: Complete

Word Count: 7829

Main Ship(s): Dame Aylin/Shadowheart/Isobel Thorm

Side Ship(s): None

Other Side Character(s): Shadowheart's Parents (Arnell and Emmeline)

Summary:

For the first time in half a century, Shadowheart feels as if she truly tastes clean air.

There is pain. There is loss. There is guilt that will gnaw away at her all the rest of her days.

But so too is there hope.

Hope, reconciliation, and a chance at great love if only she has the tender strength to clasp this most fragile of states closer.

Ao3 Stats (As of April 16 2024)

Dame Aylin/Shadowheart/Isobel Thorm on Ao3: 30

Dame Aylin/Shadowheart works on Ao3: 7

Shadowheart/Isobel Thorm works on Ao3: 4

Dame Aylin/Isobel Thorm works on Ao3: 145

Dame Aylin: 336

Shadowheart works on Ao3: 5969

Isobel Thorm works on Ao3: 332

Review (Mild Spoilers Only)

Warnings: Deliberate scaring, mental breakdowns, some sexual humor.

Favorite Quote:

"Are you so eager to escape the consequences of your choices, little warrior, so afeared of the pain a life lived brings, that you would accuse mine and me of a murder never committed?" 

Main POV: Shadowheart

Thoughts:

As demonstrated by the quote above, Dame Aylin is on point in this fic. But so are all the other characters. The author captures each character's voice perfectly.

This fic definitely explore's Shadowheart's more bitter, bratty side. Which I appreciate, it's one of my favorite parts about Shadowheart. But that doesn't mean I don't equally enjoy Isobel calling her out on it. And the way she just is so perfect. It shows a side to Isobel the game doesn't explore nearly enough. This woman is truly Ketheric Thorm's daughter.

I also appreciate how Scratch and Owlbear are developed in this screen. It's very in the background but I think it says a lot about the family unit that's starting to form.

Overall a great Shadowheart character piece with some great moments from both Isobel and Aylin.

Who I'd recommend this fic to: Shadowheart fans will of course love the introspection. But I think those who love the Moon Lesbians will appreciate the way their relationship, personalities, and dynamic are fleshed out in this fic.

[hadesgirl015]

Chapter 22: The Githyanki Traitor

Chapter Summary: Who is the real traitor in situations like this?

Story Summary: Telvelni (Tav) is an Iron-Hand Gnome, after getting abducted by mind flayers and infected with one of their tadpoles, she must make her way back to Baldur’s Gate with the important information she had received.  Information she paid a lot for and could potentially be a turning point for her clan.

Act 1 is finally done.

This is what the google doc looked like after the 1st draft of this chapter. Definitely the longest thing I've ever written and only like a 1/3 of the way done.

[thoughts-of-bear]

Okay you know what, reblogging this again because tags just aren't enough for all of my thoughts.

First off, I love love love how you write battle scenes. I could picture it all so well and the suspense- I couldn't eat breakfast until I finished this part ugh 😍😭😵‍💫

When Halsin is on his knees, that one gorgeous @naariel art was all I could see and that was absolutely beautiful (gonna put the link down there, so if you don’t know it already, you can check it out).

And lastly, the emotions I felt when reading the kissing+crying scene?? I nearly cried myself 😭😭😭

Literally one of the best Halsin fics I've read so far and I am already sad that the next part is gonna be the last 😔

Anyway, thank you for writing this beautiful fic <3

❅In Every Life❅

Halsin x Fem!Reader | Modern AU, Parallel Universes Part 4 | Read Part 3 here

Summary: Another day on modern Earth as you finally wind down for the late night in your quiet home. All is as it should be. All is normal as you prepare for bed. That is, until a tall, hulking man with pointed ears shows up at your doorstep claiming to be your lost love from another time and realm. But he’s a stranger. A stranger who forever changes everything you thought you knew about your life.

Explicit 18+

CW (For whole story): Blood, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Tension, Oral, P in V, Shifting, Pain, Love, Halsin is Emotional!

Word Count: 6k

*Reminder, this is part 4. ⋆ a few tags for some. let me know if anyone would liked to be tagged for the next part. @stanfordscrush | @lanafofana | @catch-all | @thoughts-of-bear | @agathaharknessfan96 | @niki-is-a-reblog | @avabjorna36 | @acrobatalien42 | @princesspeachtacular | (some tags don't work but the thought is there!)

A simmering heat bubbled in your core, hot and powerful. The electric sparks fueled you, firing throughout your body, charging you with an incredible force that waited to be unleashed. You were magic incarnate. The Weave merged and flowed within you. You remember now, the phenomenal power that has been a part of you since childhood.

The echoes of shouting and weapons clashing finally pulled your attention away from yourself. Scanning the area, you gasped as blue and purple nebulae surrounded you, an endless space of brilliant cosmic collections. Floating rocks of various sizes were scattered all around, with the largest rocks nestled in between or on the ancient bones of fallen gods; and the areas with the flattest surfaces were crowded with battle. The Astral Plane.

But what were you doing there? You looked across one way, noticing a large portal where githyanki soldiers occasionally streamed out of, weapons drawn. Above you, red dragons soared ferociously, each flap of their wings like a hurricane. Some had long black streaks painted along their sides, and the others, seemingly on the opposing side, went without a mark. The dragons roared and clawed, battling each other across the Planes.

You noticed a familiar rider on the back of a red dragon with a long black streak, Lae’zel. You remembered what she once told you before battle, that those markings represented the dragons on your side. Even from a great distance, you could see the ferocity in her pose, and the rage in her eyes as she effortlessly directed her dragon in battle. She was always a force to be reckoned with, on the ground or in the air. But if Lae’zel and the red dragons were here, then this was the—

“You will see no ascension!” a mighty voice roared, piercing across the Plane. It sounded ancient and powerful, dripping with hatred. Vlaakith. The glowing, yellow eyes of the Lich Queen glared at Lae’zel, who was flying side to side, dodging various attacks of lightning and thunder.

Your heart heaved, stomach tightening as full awareness was flooding back into you. It was the battle where you, Halsin, and your friends agreed to help Lae’zel with. All but Jaheira had joined you, as she settled into the life of being a grandmother, finally putting up her daggers. But she sent a large band of Harpers in her place, her daughter among them.

You had years of peace after the defeat of the Absolute, but the tyrant queen still lived. It was the one thing that Lae’zel could never truly move past, especially since she was forced to occasionally defend herself over the years, being hunted down by those who still blindly followed Vlaakith. Lae’zel never gave up on her rebellion, itching to help her people once and for all, but she needed the aid of her closest friends. Vlaakith was a threat to the githyanki, and if her reign continued, it wouldn’t be long before all non-gith fell under her control.

A familiar voice reached your ears, frantically calling your name. “My heart! Rise!” You promptly turned towards the call to find Halsin, his bright eyes concerned with how you lingered on the ground, seemingly out of it. He started to move towards you but was cut off by three gith monks who jumped in front of his path.

A flash of golden light raced over his tall body, and the roar of a great bear emerged, large claws swiping at one of the monks. A blaring war cry filled your ears, and you noticed Karlach, who was dripping with fire as she charged towards Halsin’s aid, axe raised high.

Heart pounding, adrenaline surged through your veins as you finally began to rise, suddenly feeling the weight of something heavy at your back. There was a sound of something scraping against the stone as you stood, and you remembered the longsword strapped at your back, eager to be used once more.

“Ooh, glad to see you remembered how to use your legs!” someone near you said, the sarcastic speech you could recognize anywhere. You turned to see silver-white hair and blaring red eyes, stimulated by the heat of battle. Astarion, daggers raised, whirled around four of his attackers with immaculate finesse. “Now, darling, a little help would be lovely!”

You grinned, feeling the crackling energy in your fingertips growing stronger. You ordered him to dash far off to the side as you raised your hands high. Feeling the electricity surging down your arms, you eyed four of your targets who were prowling toward Astarion. Before they could get within dangerous range of him, you threw your arms forward as a rush of invigorating power escaped you with great force. “Perurē!” Streaks of crackling blue lightning sprouted from your fingers, instantly shocking all four giths on contact. All four immediately succumbed, weakened from earlier assaults.

Astarion sighed, dusting off his pants then bowed dramatically in your direction. “Well that’s more like it.”

You smiled, scanning the area to better assimilate to what else was going on and how everyone was doing. You remembered this moment, feeling it like the way you would déjà vu, except it wasn’t some quick fleeting memory. You were simply there. The battle in the Astral Plane was happening all over again.

You felt something behind you, a presence leaping towards you fast. Quickly, you withdrew your longsword, noting the orange flames that danced along the blade. Spinning, you swung the blade in time to lacerate clean through a large gnoll, its eyes glowing deep pink. Charmed, you realized. But now, its gaze darkened, lifeless, as it slumped to the ground, its severed body partially sizzling from the sword’s flames.

Satisfied, your eyes continued to sweep the area, taking in how the rest of your friends were faring. All around you, hordes of allies and enemies clashed. Lae’zel still soared above you, occasionally taking on Vlaakith herself with a few githyanki at her side, but she was consistently forced to evade more than she could attack. For now, though, she held strong while the rest of your allies held on the ground—or the suspended rocks at least.

Your heart pounded in your ears as you searched for your druid, wanting to fight at his side. Karlach was still raging, a hellish force to be reckoned with. And instead of finding the enormous bear beside her, you saw a massive, feline beast biting down on the neck of an enemy gith, two extremely long incisors pulling away from a bloody throat. You could easily recognize the gold in its eyes as your lover, who had apparently shed his bear form for a swifter, fiercer, saber-tooth tiger. Halsin dashed across the rocks, leaping with pristine grace, his jugular strikes always true.

A swell of love and pride spread across your chest as you watched him, roaring and merciless. It had been a very long time since the two of you fought like this, having only faced minor dangers since defeating the netherbrain. The usually stoic, calm elf, who had grown accustomed to long, peaceful days, had not lost his vigor. Blood pumped faster through your veins at the sight, and a pleasurable spark flickered in your lower abdomen. Should you survive this and the two of you reclaimed your solitude, you’d leap for him, wrapping your legs around his waist and lose yourself enveloped in his massive arms, not caring to wash away the blood of battle first.

Halsin seemed to sense your eyes on him because mid-run, he stopped, turning his head in your direction. His chest was moving rapidly as crimson stained his once white, dagger-like canines. He stared at you intensely, golden eyes piercing into yours from across the plane. His long tongue swiped slowly over one of his blood-soaked canines and you gasped at the sight, certain he was detecting your thoughts.

“Halsin,” you murmured, breathless. As though he could hear you or read your lips, he let out a soft guttural purr, starting to march towards you.

But a sudden bright light pulled you out of your arousing trance, and you turned towards the source as another spherical portal emerged some distance away. Dozens of gith started pouring in, and given the color of their armor, they were no friends of yours. They were running in the direction of Gale and allied gith fighters who seemed too preoccupied to notice.

“Gale!” you shouted, repressing all former desires and refocusing on the battle at hand. The wizard immediately looked at you, eyes determined. “Behind you, cut them off, now!”

Gale swiveled around at the charging gith soldiers who were running up the inner rock that was more of a wide tunnel with a ceiling. Bright flames illuminated Gale’s arms, and in a quick sweeping motion towards the giths’ direction, he threw his arms up. “Ira!” he bellowed. Instantly, a column of flames sprouted from the ground, spiking towards the ceiling, immediately torching the few unlucky gith who were caught in the middle of the spell’s path.

The fires effectively cut the rest off, leaving Gale to deal with the other side. Sensing he would soon be overwhelmed, you sprang off the rock, soaring high in the low gravity, and landed with a divine smite to the first enemy who was unfortunate to be in your way. You easily fell into a natural dance, shifting between slicing and cutting to throwing fire bolts and thunderwaving enemies away from you whenever you began getting overwhelmed.

“Ira et Dolor!” You heard the incantation through the chaos, catching a luminous green light off to your left. Shadowheart, mace swinging, ran through the field as a floating circle of green, necrotic guardians flew around her as she weakened and injured all foes who breached her circle.

With her at your side, it helped lessen the number of foes, and you did your best to help her from getting knocked out of her concentration. You then turned your attention to the sound of a familiar, joyous laugh. Wyll, rapier held high, wielded the weapon with clean precision, fluid like Astarion, but unique to him.

The former Blade of Avernus, now Duke of Baldur’s Gate, still fought like he hadn’t missed a day over the past twenty years. His hair was longer, twisted halfway down his back, swaying with him as he dodged and weaved. But despite his unwavering skill, he was sidetracked by a thundering blast from his side, throwing him on his back. Wyll shook his head, clearly dazed.

An enemy warrior approached Wyll from behind, and your heart skipped as you called on your energy, aiming to teleport in the form of mist. But before you could, another shout from Shadowheart. “Ex Textura!” A large, spiritual greatsword rose from the rock, behind the impending warrior who stalked towards Wyll. With a great, sweeping arc, its radiant power struck hard at the gith warrior, forcing them to their knees.

You looked back at Shadowheart, sweat spilling down her forehead, who simply grinned at you before turning her attention elsewhere. Back to Wyll, you proceeded to teleport near his side. With flaming hands, you thrust hard against the fallen warrior’s chest. Wyll, back on his feet, took hold of his rapier and slashed it cleanly across the gith’s throat.

“Appreciate the assist,” Wyll breathed heavily, his smile never waning. Spots of blood dotted his face and long coat, and he gave his rapier a brief shake. His beard was fuller now, with a few sporadic strands of silver peeking between his dark hair.

“Of course.” You bowed, playfully. “But we had a little help.” You nodded towards Shadowheart, still surrounded by the ring of guardians. You lived for moments like these during battle, where you found a chance to quickly banter with one another before falling back into the dance.

And dance you did.

Bellowed spells, arrows flying, and swords clashing echoed in the great Astral Plane. The would-be god was not falling easily for she was as impressive as Lae’zel warned you all she would be. Lae’zel was once a devout follower after all, and knew only of the strength and power the tyrant queen possessed. But Vlaakith would fall today, she had to.

Exhaustion began to mount within you, your muscles burning with the consistent grip you had on your sword. The heat from the red dragons occasionally clouded you, their fires nothing to be trifled with.

Finally finding Halsin again, this time he had fully dismissed his wild shape, the tall elf swinging his shadow blade in a long arc. Halsin’s hands glowed with a bright light, and he threw his hands forward then did a slamming motion. A beam of pure moonlight struck down from an unknown place, seemingly ignoring the fact that they were not beneath the moon or stars but rather floating in an otherworldly place among them. It seemed Selune’s light could still reach this plane.

You couldn’t help but smile at him, though he was too focused to notice. Your legs carried you on, tired but moving. The world spun around you as you fought, sometimes finding yourself at Halsin’s side before being separated once more. You’d briefly lock eyes, making sure the other was okay before pursuing the dance.

You were breathing heavily, giving it all you had, everyone was. Your energy was beginning to wane, only allowing you to cast the most basic spells. You tapped into your core, feeling the warmth within you, the ancient magic passed down through your ancestors, it would not fail you.

“You alright there, soldier?” Karlach appeared on your left flank that was left wide open.

Before you could answer, another presence on your other side joined you. From the corner of your eye, you noticed large, bulging muscles, thinking it was your druid. But a different accent left their lips.

“Ahh, you wouldn’t let this party go to waste, no?” Minsc moved closer, bumping your side lightly with his arm. “Move your legs, my friend! The battle rages! The false god meets her end today! Isn’t that right, Boo?” A series of light squeaks followed his inquiry.

You chuckled, taking a deep breath, a new resolve rising within you. With your towering friends at your side, you shouted battle cries and charged back into the fray. In time, finally, the battle was turning in your favor by drastic numbers. You had brought the would-be god to her knees as you, Gale, and Shadowheart stood the closest to her but still a decent distance away. On the other rocks, the rest of your friends and allies were clearing out the other gith, the ones who refused to flee. The rest of you watched Lae’zel land with her dragon, an earth-shattering thud. You all observed her eagerly, waiting for her to end this.

Lae’zel’s dragon, whose saliva dripped with red fire, stalked towards Vlaakith who lay wounded and considerably damaged. “We will be your thralls no longer!” Lae’zel snarled, her eyes frenzied with rage.

She shouted a command at her dragon who made a thrusting motion with its back. With the rapid momentum, Lae’zel leaped off its back. Silver sword in hand, she vaulted through the air with feline grace, a streak of ferocious fury, and brought down the glimmering blade directly through Vlaakith’s chest. A piercing cry left the Lich Queen’s throat as dark blood, almost black, splattered from her lips, proof that she was still just a mortal in the end. A string of cursed words left the fading tyrant’s mouth which only encouraged Lae’zel to twist the blade. Another moment, and Lae’zel withdrew, stepping away from the fallen queen who collapsed forward with a hard fall.

Lae’zel stumbled back, breathing heavily, her yellow eyes wide with shock that this was all over. It was finally over. She turned around on semi-shaking legs, catching your eyes first. The grip on her sword started to waver as realization swam over her. You nodded your head, half-smiling as your chest rose and fell rapidly.

Then, a shadow of movement behind your gith friend caught your eye. The long, skeletal arm of the fallen queen lifted, and a silver blade materialized in her hand. Eyes widening, you acted without thinking, using the last bit of your energy to misty step at Lae’zel’s side, shoving her out of the way. In the same second, a sharp, stabbing pain blasted through your core, your entire body seizing under the shock. A choked gasp left your throat as the desperate sound of your name cut across the plane.

Instinctively, you looked in the direction of Halsin, who was sprinting towards you with a desperate, terrified look in his eyes before he shifted midway towards you in his considerably faster saber-tooth shape.

A string of curses dripped from Lae’zel’s throat, venomous. “Aghh! Vlaakith hta'zith! Die!”

You were faintly aware of a violent slashing sound, then a crowned head tumbling away from shoulders. Your legs felt numb, knees weak. And just as you were collapsing, a bright flash momentarily blinded your vision.

The light subsided. You blinked rapidly, looking around to still find yourself standing in the Astral Plane, but something was different. You felt different—lighter, no longer reeling from the scathing pain, in fact, there was no pain at all. You heard a sound, something of a strained cough, and glanced down to find yourself on the ground, your other self. Ejected from your body, you stood in shock, watching the other you from the outside, like a spirit watching itself.

You looked down at yourself, cradled in the strong arms of your lover, a blue light flowing from his hands. Halsin was on his knees, begging you to hold on, pouring all of his magic into you. Your friends ran to you both, frantic, everyone who could heal desperately trying to transfer what magic they had left into your declining body. Still standing, you tried to speak, but in this disconnected form, you were deemed silent, an invisible witness.

Your physical form looked up at Halsin, and you felt your heart breaking despite no longer being attached to it. “Stay with me, my heart,” Halsin pleaded, voice thick and tight with fear. “Please.”

You watched yourself weakly raising a hand to cup Halsin’s cheek as blood and sweat tinged his face. As you spoke, a line of blood trickled from your lips. “In every life,” you murmured, smiling sadly at your greatest love. “I’ll find you.”

Halsin covered your hand with his own, shaking his head, refusing to accept this. “Oak Father help me, please.” His voice trembled as he felt the life in your body waning. “A portal!” he shouted at no one in particular. “Open one, anyone!”

But the Astral Plane was too fast, already claiming you barely a minute later. You felt yourself slipping away as you watched your body fade into golden, sparkling dust, flying out into the vast spaces before vanishing entirely. Halsin fell over, no longer having you to hold and a pained wail escaped his throat.

It was then, in your ethereal form, that you took the chance to look around at the fallen. But there were no fallen. Every person, enemy or ally, had ceased to exist, only their weapons were left behind. Your breathing was coming in rapid waves, panic momentarily blurring your vision. You glanced back down at Halsin who was staring at his empty, blood-soaked, trembling hands. The very same hands that held you only mere moments ago.

“Halsin?” Shadowheart cautiously spoke, her face crestfallen.

Halsin suddenly threw his head back, arms flexed, and the loudest, fiercest cry bellowed from the depths of his broad chest. It cut through the Planes, a beacon of the deepest agony and ire, powerful enough to put Karlach’s rageful, barbaric roar to shame. Your heart shattered at the most sorrowful sound you’d ever heard, and you ached to reach for him, to touch him.

“My Halsin,” you cried, dropping to your knees beside him as he fell forward again. “I’m here. I’m right here.” You moved to throw your arms around his neck but your ghostly form passed right through him. You glanced at your hands, defeated, watching a misty blue aura outlining your arms.

“Oh, Halsin.” Karlach dropped to her knees, throwing herself around the weeping elf. Blue flames flickered over her skin as she sobbed profusely, resting her head on Halsin’s shoulder.

Wyll followed suit, coming on Halsin’s other side and stretching his arms around him as wide as they could go. Shadowheart snuck beside Wyll, crying quietly as she leaned her weight over the two, resting her hand on Halsin’s back. Gale stood nearby, eyes glazed over in shock, his staff carelessly dropped near his feet. Astarion, who usually detested expressing any sort of vulnerable emotion was redder in the eyes than normal, tears staining his cheeks as he paced back and forth, fangs bared, erratically waving his hands.

Minsc held Boo close to his chest, kneeling near Halsin with their heads bowed. And Lae’zel was muttering a string of curses, frantic, angry, shouting your name over and over again. You watched her glistening eyes, spewing threat after threat at the fallen Vlaakith, cursing her to a terrifying and tortuous afterlife.

But as Halsin continued to weep, his fists balled tightly, Lae’zel’s ranting finally seized and she collapsed directly in front of the defeated druid. Blood smeared her arms and chest as she tentatively reached for Halsin, placing a trembling hand over his knee.

Lowering her head, she choked back tears, fighting the threatening dam. “It should have been me… Vlaakith—” she choked, pausing for a moment. “That was my death. Mine.”

You shook your head at her even though she could not see. You would do it again for her, for anyone in front of you. And there wasn’t a single doubt that they wouldn’t have done the same in return.

Without lifting his head, the druid responded. “Do not say that.” Halsin sounded distant, sniffling as he spoke.

Lae’zel said nothing after this, only allowing herself to cry freely, bowing before Halsin. Everyone remained quiet, save for the sounds of constant sniffing and the heavy, unstable breaths Halsin made. Gale and Astarion now huddled as close as they were able to get to the large elf. Your heart both broke and swelled at the sight. You hated that you had to leave them behind, to leave your beautiful, amazing, love of your life behind. But you also smiled sadly, feeling a sense of peace knowing that at least he wasn’t alone. He still had his family.

With one final attempt to touch Halsin, a sudden torrent of wind opened up from behind you. And in an instant, taking one last glance at your family, you were sucked into another strange portal. This one was void of visions and considerably faster than before. Blue lights rushed past you, quickly dimming and fading into darkness.

Then one violent, gasping breath later, cool air rushed back into your body like you had just reached the limit your lungs could no longer take. You fell forward slightly, blinking rapidly as your vision cleared. Gone was the rocky surface and starry surroundings of the Astral Plane, replaced by cool, ceramic flooring. You noticed a familiar cloak covering your arms - no- not a cloak, but a robe. You were kneeling on your kitchen floor, suddenly aware that you were being partially held up. Your stomach flipped, a fierce and untamed nervous excitement. If you were back in your kitchen, in your body, then that meant— “My heart, are you alright? What happened?” a familiar, deep voice graced your ears.

You leaned back, lifting your gaze to find Halsin searching yours, worried and panicked as he studied you. A blue light faded from his hands as he observed your appearance.

A shaky gasp left your lips as you took in the form of the druid, the softness in his eyes, the love that flourished deep within them. He looked almost the exact same as he did in your vision—memory— but gone was the blood and sweat, replaced by a more tired, stress-induced elf.

He said your name again, lifting one hand as if to cup your chin but stopped midway, cautious, as though still unsure of what contact was too much. So you made the choice for him, reaching for his face, taking him in. He seemed surprised for a moment but didn’t hesitate to lean into your touch, though a level of concern still lingered in his eyes.

“My Halsin,” you whispered fondly, holding his gaze, watching the ever-increasing surprise in his eyes. “You came for me.”

Halsin was breathing fast, and you could feel him starting to tremble. “You- you remember me?” he breathed, taken aback.

You nodded slowly. “Everything.” And as you said the word, all of your memories pulsed in your mind, like a reminder that you weren’t dreaming, it all happened. “I saw everything. My life in Faerûn…our life.”

A distant, ghost of a tickle entered your brain. It was like your life in Faerûn was just as much a part of you as your current life on Earth. Memories were shared equally. Your time as a high elf for over two hundred years mingled with your time as a human for a considerably lower number of years. All of your friends’ faces were clear as day, the many races of Faerûn, as well as your Earthly friends, just as much a part of your life. How strange, you thought. Your two lives merging rather than fighting for dominance. But you didn’t question it further, for now, choosing to focus on the elf before you. The one who never stopped caring for you. The one who crossed dimensions to find you.

Halsin, who was clearly at a loss for words, slumped forward, head hanging low. You saw him trembling and could feel the parts of relief and shock consuming him. Your heart beating rapidly, you smiled and slowly rose to your feet. Halsin stayed still, staring towards the floor, lightly clinging to one of your legs which loosened your robe some more.

With a featherlight touch, you reached down and slid your fingers beneath his chin, gently urging him to look at you. Lifting his head, his eyes glistened lightly as he looked up at you, a soft frown curving his lips.

“Oh…my sweet bear,” you whispered, stroking your thumb over his chin.

Your heart skipped one beat, then another at the sight below you. This massive, beautiful man completely and utterly shattered for you. You felt heavy with empathy at the genuine relief in his eyes that slowly pushed through years of anguish. Halsin was staring at you with pure reverence, devotion, love. He looked into you the way one would a goddess, thankful for your delicate care and attention, silently begging that you’d allow him to be consumed in it forever.

Halsin’s strong arms fell to his sides, suddenly feeling weak as he looked up at you, unable to believe this was happening. It was what he had hoped for. What he had dreamed, prayed, and longed for. He didn’t know exactly what to expect when showing up at your doorstep, but just a few minutes ago he had succumbed to the idea that he would have to leave. He would leave to make things easier for you because the truth overwhelmed you, frightened you. And more notably, you hadn’t remembered him. As much as that truth stung, your mental well-being meant more to him.

But kneeling before you now, he saw it in your eyes. The same eyes that he had lost himself in thousands of times before. You were right there. You remembered him. And as if reading his thoughts, you spoke again.

“I remember all, Halsin,” you reaffirmed, your sweet voice caressing his ears. “Now, come here to me.” You loved this view of Halsin kneeling before you, the assembly of emotions in his gorgeous eyes. But you were ready for more of him, you needed more.

You smirked down at him as a wave of urgent excitement swelled within you. Halsin chuckled, briefly, taking one last look before he rapidly rose to full height in one quick motion. You almost stumbled at the force of his large frame now towering over you again, but his arm was quick to curve around your waist, keeping you steady.

Your eyes darted between his and then at his parted lips. With silent confirmation, you both surged towards each other, closing the space between you as your lips met in a deep and tentative kiss. Together, your lips moved gradually over one another, each peck and pull rising with purpose. A groan rumbled from his throat, the familiar sound causing a rush of heat to your core. You kissed like you were reacquainting yourselves with one another, exploring the taste of the other’s lips.

For you, it felt like it had only been a few hours and simultaneously years since you last kissed Halsin. Another strange way your memories of your old life collided with this one. You could only imagine how Halsin felt, for it had literally been just over a decade for him. The mere thought made you want to lean into him more, to mold yourself into him, reassuring him that you were back, that you were there.

Halsin’s grip on you increased as he tugged you in closer until he felt the poking of your hardening nipples against him. A hot, electric charge spiked up his back as he kissed you feverishly, taking in the softness of your lips again. He groaned again, feeling you smile against his lips as you started to kiss him even harder. He returned the vigor, kissing you deeper, faster, encouraged by your exploring hands traveling up his rigid biceps and reaching around his neck before threading through his hair. A soft moan drained from your lips and Halsin felt himself twitch, abdomen tightening, nearly forgetting how incredible such a sound was from you. He longed to hear more of it, to be the one who encouraged it, loud and angelic from your supple mouth.

Halsin’s breath was hot against yours, his warm, woodsy scent consuming you. Chills spread all over your body, quickly soothed by the heat from his large physique. His large hands roamed over your thighs and up your back, leaving a tremor of shivers in their wake. The intensity of his kiss was growing ever more ravenous, burning with the heat of a thousand fires. Your needy hands found their way tugging at Halsin’s forearms, and following your signal, he quickly unstrapped and discarded his arm gloves without ever breaking the kiss.

Your nails ran down his fully exposed arms, gripping around hard muscles, feeling his skin prickle beneath your touch. Halsin groaned again, further stoking the fires within your pelvis. You slid your hands along his firm abdomen, sliding them upward towards his chest, wishing there was no fabric blocking you from his heated skin.

Your faces constantly tilted from one side to the other, consumed by each other’s mouths, wanting to taste one another as much as possible. Halsin’s tongue dragged along your bottom lip and your lips parted wider, eagerly inviting his tongue inside. You gasped as strong hands lifted you and the world quickly spun until your bottom was placed securely on the countertop. Halsin’s knee spread your legs wider as he settled in between, his lips still roughly on yours.

In this position, you easily felt a stiff bulge pressing against your stomach, causing your core to flush with heat. Your pulse quickened, suddenly remembering just how large Halsin was, thick and growing fuller by the moment. Desperately, you tugged him closer to you, pressing your still-covered breasts into his chest while one leg wrapped around his waist.

Unexpectedly, a light taste of salt touched your tongue as it continued to dance with Halsin’s. Soon after, a warm drop of fluid fell on your bottom lip, trailing down to your chin. A sudden break in the kiss had you both gasping for air, your lungs finally free to take in all the oxygen they needed.

Halsin’s forehead leaned against yours, your warm breaths mingling together. You opened your eyes and found him already staring at you, eyes shimmering under the dim light. A flicker of gold flashed in his irises before darkening again. Slight worry gripped you as you leaned back to see him better, but he kept his head bowed. Thin streaks of fresh tears trailed down Halsin’s cheeks as he proceeded to catch his breath.

Halsin smiled shyly, glancing away for a moment. “It would appear I am feeling…” he took a deep breath, shivering, “…a bit overwhelmed.”

Halsin’s heart was hammering in his chest, his blood so hot he could practically feel it simmering in his veins. His whole body felt like it was on fire in the most pleasurable way possible. To be standing there before you, the greatest love he’s ever known, who not only remembered him but still felt just as passionate as he was. Years of love and grief came crashing into him in full force, barreling into the years of loneliness he spent without you.

And then, to feel your touch again, to taste your lips, it was all so much and still not enough. His emotions needed to be free, to escape his body and help ease the unbearable flames. So he cried as he kissed you, feeling his cheeks burn as each tear was marked with the love he had for you. A love that never waned, that could never be replaced by another.

He watched you analyzing his face, imagining how sorrowful he must have looked. But you simply smiled at him, lifting both of your cool hands to his cheeks. “My Halsin,” he heard you whisper, and a tingle pulsed down his back. He had to remove his hands from your hips, placing them on the counter to steady himself. Oh how he loved it when you said his name that way, your Halsin. Another reassurance that you had truly returned to him, still claimed him.

Halsin stayed still, his arms resting at your sides while he let you take your time exploring his face. Your soft hands held his cheeks as you leaned upward, placing gentle kisses at the corners of his eyes. He shivered at your touch as his fresh tears were captured on your warm lips. The tenderness of your thumb stroked his cheek as you tilted your head to finally kiss his mouth again. Halsin leaned into you with ease, tasting his own tears, sighing against your lips. This time, however, the kiss was softer, slower, your deep breaths still coming down.

You pulled away from Halsin with a quiet smack of your lips, placing a hand over his pacing heart. It beat rapidly within his broad chest, strong and powerful. You could feel the passion he had for you, the equal level of anxiousness and enthusiasm to be with you again.

“My sweet Halsin,” you whispered, and Halsin focused on you, ready to hang onto your every word. “How about we take our time? We have the rest of the night, and the sun rises late in the winter.”

Halsin chuckled softly, nodding at your suggestion. He was torn between wanting to crash back into you again, to pull you into his body in another tight and greedy embrace. It had been so long since he last felt you, since he last had you, that he scarcely knew what to do with himself.

But perhaps you were right, perhaps it would be wiser to pace yourselves, though the desire relentlessly burned inside of him for more. His breathing began to level, and his eyes ceased new tears. He would take it slow with you… for as long as he was able to at least.

A/N: Whew, I honestly can't handle sad/emotional Halsin, I'm so sorry!

Next post is the final😔. But even longer than this part! Can't wait to share as soon as it's ready!

[bg3-fanfic-reblogs]

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[los-gatitos-luciran-muy-lindos]

ೃ⁀➷ * Character Song Association * * Character : Astarion * \♡˳ Baldur's Gate 3 ♡˳/

⋅ʚmy boyɞ⋅

♡A03 tags it may fit♡ ♡Bad ending Astarion ♡Unhealthy relationship ♡Ascended Astarion ♡Vampirism

[dragonagitator]

BG3 Withers dialogue writing resources

Withers seems to be one of the more difficult characters to write in fanfic because of his archaic way of speaking. But since he's pretty significant in the fanfic I'm working on, I've been going through the datamined game transcripts reviewing all of his lines in attempt to synthesize a Withers Style Guide:

Pronouns: "The Basics of Shakespeare Pronouns: Thee, Thy, Thou, Thine, Ye" explains it better than I can (caveat: Withers doesn't use "ye").

Contractions: He almost never uses them. The only examples I could find were I'd (1), ne'er (3), shan't (1), 'til (5), and upon't (1).

Auxiliary verbs: He seems to use them whenever grammatically possible, sometimes with modern spellings (am, are, be, is, must, shall, will) and sometimes with archaic spellings (canst, didst, dost, doth, hast, hast, hath, mayest, needeth, needst, shouldst, wilt, wouldst).

Verb conjugations: The game writers weren't terribly consistent with these, but he tends to conjugate second person singular verbs with -est/-st endings and the third person verbs with -eth/-th endings. He seems to use mostly modern conjugations when speaking in the first person.

Vocabulary: He peppers his speech with dated terminology like bosom companion, cleave, forsooth, pittance, proffer, seneschal, yoke, etc. (Google Books Ngram Viewer is a good tool for checking how dated a term is.)

Verbosity: Withers is generally quite terse. If the rule of thumb for writing Gale is use twice as many words as necessary, then the rule of thumb for writing Withers is to use as few words as possible (with the aforementioned exceptions of no contractions and lots of auxiliary verbs). Or simply have him refuse to elaborate as that is very in-character for him.

Complete corpus: I went through the datamined files and copypasted all of Withers' lines into a Google Doc because I personally find it useful to immerse myself in a single character's voice before attempting to write them. Please note that it includes cut content as well as MAJOR SPOILERS FOR EVERYTHING because he narrates the epilogue. I included the file names as headers in case you want to refer back to the datamined dialogue for the context in which he says a particular line.

[hadesgirl015]

Fic rec:

I’m only a few chapters in and already enjoying it.

The writing style works really well for me.

It’s a sort of contrast to one of my current play throughs as I’m playing a blue Dragonborn cleric of Bahamut.

No Hard Feelings

Chapter 1 - A Gathering Storm

Introducing Irva, a cleric of Tiamat and my newest Wyllmancing Tav!

Summary:

Now that Mizora has allowed Wyll to tell his companions the story of his pact and subsequent exile, Irva’s heart begins to sink. After all, Wyll’s story leaves out an important detail — one she can recall intimately.

A young man — a boy, really — stood slowly before her. His hand was remarkably steady as it retrieved his blade. His face, which still had spots and had been contorted in a scream just seconds earlier, was firm and resolute. Blood poured down his cheek from a destroyed, unseeing eye.

Dagger raised, Irva didn’t know why she hesitated then…

…and she doesn’t know why she hesitates now.

In which Wyll happens to falls in love with a cleric of Tiamat — one he has unknowingly met before.

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

Pairing: Wyll x Female Tav Rating: Explicit Length: 1.7K+ words; Chapters 1/6

Excerpt below:

“I was seventeen,” Wyll recalls. “Father — Ulder Ravenguard — had just been named a Grand Duke, and was called away to Elturel to help settle a dispute.”

His face hardens. “That’s when the Cult of the Dragon made its move.”

Irva’s heart thuds inside of her chest.

Twenty-five voices, calling out as one. She had never heard anything so beautiful. “Come child,” Father had called. “It is time.”

“The… Cult of the Dragon?” Irva asks quietly.

“It’s a bold name for a fractured religion,” Wyll explains. “Some believers hold that undead dragons will inherit the world. Others believe much worse. The ones who came to Baldur’s Gate in particular worshiped the dragon goddess Tiamat. Their intention was to conjure her and lay waste to Baldur’s Gate… and then the world.”

The campfire crackles in the quiet, chilly air. Their other companions have either turned in for the night or are on watch.

Or… perhaps they’re eavesdropping in as well.

Wyll continues his story with a haunted expression upon his face. Irva listens silently, having gone very, very still.

“A tenday after my father left, I heard a whisper as I slept,” he recalls. “It said, ‘Dusthawk Hill. The Queen of Chaos awakens. Go alone.’”

“Mizora,” Irva mutters unnecessarily.

Wyll sighs. “The same.”

Irva clenches her hands in her robes. When she takes control of the Absolute for her queen... the damned cambion will the first to go. Painfully, preferably.

The girl was still barefoot long after she stopped dancing upon the grass. She ate what was offered. Drank the chalice that was passed. She wondered whose blood was in the wine tonight.

“...so I grabbed a rapier and set out,” Wyll continues. “There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, yet not a single star was shining.”

Chanting filled the air. The girl could pick out her father and sister’s voices among them. Even though she wasn’t a part of this ritual, she joined in when it was time, the words falling from her lips — practiced and as clear as crystal.

“...and there they were, gathered at the foot of the hill,” Wyll hesitates. “I know it is much to ask, but may I show you what happened?”

Irva nods after a moment, entangling her hand in Wyll’s and letting their temples bump together. How strange that such a gesture has become so natural to the two of them, tadpole connection or no.

An iridescent aura shimmers around Irva’s vision. Her head buzzes — and then quiets — as his consciousness interweaves with her own. The connections pulse between them like constellations, each thought shimmering like a falling star.

As Wyll’s memory manifests itself before her senses, Irva feels three waves of grief rush in and converge upon her tightening chest.

One wave for what he lost.

One wave for what she lost.

And the other…

…for what will be lost for both of them.

In the looming shadow of the mount, Wyll saw five groups of five figures each encircle a lofty totem. Atop each totem, a dragon’s head had been carved, with a massive orb held in its mouth. 

From her own memory, Irva knows…

…a girl had traced her fingers over a red dragon’s head, marveling at the detail of its scales but not daring to touch the orb.

With their shared memories intermingling, Irva sees two simultaneous views of a resplendent moment.

The cultists chanted, first softly, then crying to the starless sky. 

Irva feels tears spring to her eyes. 

Even after all these years, the awe still feels fresh.

There was a crack of thunder, a gust of wind, and a dragon’s white head appeared in the storm.  "There she is!" the girl wanted to cry out in jubilation, but she didn’t want to distract the summoners. They had a job to do, and she had hers. She must keep up with the others — make their way into the city towards their quarry…

Wyll blinks back tears as well, grimacing as the memory continues to drown out the real world around them.

As the maelstrom howled, Mizora’s lips pressed to his ear.  “She will destroy Baldur’s Gate,” she whispered to him as he watched on in horror. “Grant me your soul, and I will give you the power to save it.”

The stormy memory fades away with her last simpering word, leaving Irva and Wyll huddled together and shivering beside the campfire.

Wyll pulls away — only by a bit as he checks over Irva’s wan expression.

“She read the terms while two devils stood witness,” he recalls heavily after a moment. “And I said yes. One soul for one city.”

“Just like that,” Irva manages to say. “A brave choice — and a frightening one, in the face of so much power.”

“I don’t know that it was brave,” Wyll says resolutely. “I just know that it was right.”

He continues to cling to Irva’s hand, mismatched eyes flicking as the memories finally have the freedom to manifest into words. “The moment I agreed, I burned with the fires of Avernus and oozed the rot of Dis. The cultists…”

…choked on the poisoned fumes; burning, running from flames that inexplicably rose from the ground. A fiendish army had manifested out of seemingly nowhere… “We have to go back!” the girl barked to the others. She was running back towards the ritual before they could stop her. She had her role to play, sure, but she also had her family…!

“...when we were done, all that remained were five gray orbs atop a pile of ash,” Wyll sighs. 

The charred dragon head had crumbled under the girl’s trembling fingers.  Her fingers fell through to press against the inexplicably unbroken crystal orb — still cool to the touch. “Forgive me,” she croaked.

“And so… my soul was bound, and my lips were sealed,” Wyll concludes bitterly.

Irva looks up at the night sky. Despite the bright moonlight, there are still stars visible — so many of them.

The girl had watched them all wink back into existence. All that work… all those lives… For nothing.

“Irva?” Wyll prods his companion, rubbing her hands between his own. “I apologize if my dark tale was too much for either of our tadpoles to bear…”

“It’s not that,” Irva reassures him hurriedly. “I was just thinking… surely Mizora doesn’t actually care about Baldur’s Gate. So why would she want to save it?”

Wyll lets out a short, bitter scoff.

“She didn’t,” he scowls. “She came on the order of her mistress Zariel. Tiamat made a play for power. Zariel had other plans. That’s the most Mizora’s ever said; all that mattered was that she got her prize: another pet added to her warlock menagerie.”

Wyll shoots a resentful gaze towards his new, enchanted rapier — a bitter boon for their perilous quest.

“My father returned to an unsuspecting city and a wayward son with a smirking devil at his side,” he swallows, voice breaking. “I tried to tell him the truth, but my mouth couldn’t form the words. I led him to the battlefield, but Mizora had swept it clean. I showed him my stone eye but he only turned away. After, he said only one word: ‘Go.’”  

Wyll closes his mismatched eyes. “So I did.”

Irva’s heart continues to race.

After all, Wyll’s story leaves out an important detail — one she can recall intimately.

A young man — a boy, really — stood slowly before her. His hand was remarkably steady as it retrieved his blade. His face, which still had spots and had been contorted in a scream just seconds earlier, was firm and resolute. Blood poured down his cheek from a destroyed, unseeing eye. Dagger raised, Irva didn’t know why she hesitated then…

…and she doesn’t know why she hesitates now.

[defira85]

3, 13, 21, 25, 27

From the Fanfic End of Year asks here :)

Rob beat you to 3 and 13 here already hee hee

21. most memorable comment/review

Oh man there were so many good ones, but there was one person in particular who was commenting on Keep Telling Me to Breathe who got to the last two chapters and (spoilers sorry) wrote THE WORST PEOPLE YOU KNOW ARE GETTING MARRIED!!!! and then a similar comment on the final chapter for the larger spoiler and it was just so funny that I find myself repeating that to myself at random points and laughing about it. I love that commenter

25. a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read

That would be The Diamond by @bharv. A character study of Wisteria Jannath and her relationship with young rake Enver Gortash several decades before the events of BG3. Harding's take on Wisteria is canon to me. A gorgeous, painfully brutal fic full of yearning and an undercurrent of fear and loss.

27. favorite fanfic author of the year

Oh that's a hard one, that's not fair. Can I cheat and say two? I'm gonna cheat and say two. @elinorbard and @flamemittens not only wrote some phenomenal BG3 fics this year, but they also made me feel so very excited to be writing again. They were such a loving, enthusiastic cheer squad, and I loved everything they posted. They've both got their fic masterlists pinned at the top of their blogs, but I recommend browsing their AO3 pages if you're looking for excellent Durgetash (Elinorbard, Flamemittens)

[daficrecs]

Send me your Dragon Age fanfics to read & rec/review!

Hi everyone, and welcome to DAFicRecs! Right now it's just me, Sin, running the show, but over time I hope more people will join this project and help me share the love and joy of DA fanfic. 😁💙

My goal is to support fanfic authors in our community by sharing the works I love (and what I love most about them) with the Dragon Age fandom. I have almost two decades of professional experience reviewing books (fiction and non-fiction), and I'd like to use those skills to support our community.

In the past, I ran a similar blog for the Baldur's Gate 3 fandom, which you can check out here: BG3 Fic Reviews

If you would like me to read your fanfic, please send me an ask (with a link to your work and a short description) and I will add your work to my reading queue. While I do sometimes write "spot recs/reviews" of work I really love, I would prefer that this be a collaborative project with the community and that authors submit their work to me themselves.

Thank you for your support and please keep creating and sharing your incredible work! And readers, please remember to leave kudos on your fav fanfic authors' work!

Below the fold are fic submission guidelines! A master list of all the recs/reviews I've posted will also be there in future!

If you have any questions at all, please feel free to send an ask to DAFicRecs.

Last updated: 18 September 2024.

FIC SUBMISSION GUIDELINES

When you submit your fic, please be sure to include the following:

A link to your work & the pseud/handle you publish under (regardless of platform)

The title of your work

Any tags I should be aware of

A brief summary

Any social media you would like to be tagged in the rec/review when we publish it (please include a link to your profile)

If you have commissioned artwork for your fic, please feel free to let us know! We would be happy to post it with the rec/review of your work (with the artist's permission)

What kind of work can you submit?

Anything and everything. Long fics in progress, short NSFW fics, dark fics, angst fics, fluffy fics. Everything is welcome. If there is something in the tags I really can't handle, I will be in contact with you and let you know. In the rare cases where that does happen, please know it is not a reflection on your work—all it means is that I'll need to hold it until I find a reviewer who is comfortable reading those themes.

To be absolutely clear: this blog is firmly profiction and therefore supports and celebrates creative/artistic freedom in fiction.

You can submit your fic to me through the DAFicRecs asks here. Please note that I won't respond to your ask (unless I need further information) and I will just add it to my queue and will get to reviewing it as soon as I can. Please don't worry when you don't get a response to your ask! Once I have created an AO3 collection for my fic reading queue I will update this post with a link. Then you can check there what's currently in my queue, and whether I have added you.

[rinny-rae]

I need Ezra to be my bestie fr

fic review: Pygmalion's Folly by @unkledeath

the basics:

length: 4,027 words

main ship: Enver Gortash / Tav (Ezrael Deschain)

Warnings of Note: Child Abuse, Domestic Violence, Recreational Drug Abuse and Addiction, Sexual Assault, Torture, Objectification

as always, read full tags and know the back button is always in your reach.

It's 6:17am on a Sunday. Time to tell you why this fic is awesome.

First things first: if you think the type of fiction a person reads or writes tells you anything about their moral code, door's to the left. If you want to learn why that statement is so dangerous to people, have a link.

This story is about Enver Gortash, first and foremost. The author begins with a brilliant, brutal, and harrowingly believable scene of abuse, forcing a child to destroy a treasured object. This is something that will fuck with the most otherwise well-regulated kid. To a dumpster fire like the future Archduke of Baldur's Gate? It creates a believable wound in his psyche that our Tav fits so very well into. Uncle Death's Tav, Ezra, is a delightful little monster, and the character receives an accurate though muted introduction here - which is reasonable, as it keeps all the attention on the main tragedy. I would suggest his mini comic as a visual introduction, or his epistolary Correspondence for a written one. The character is a short, flamboyant, morally bankrupt, rakish Bard, and from the first moment of Gortash's observation of him, the author foreshadows the slow chipping down and destruction of Ezra's self into what Gortash desires of him.

Gentle readers may find it disturbing how clinical and matter-of-fact a tone the narration takes, describing the slow temperature rise of Enver and Ezra's relationship bath to an abusive boil. Those who have experienced, or watched their loved ones experience, the same might find catharsis in seeing even a professional life-ruiner and manipulator be slowly broken down and sculpted by the Hand of Bane's Chosen. Ezra is an incredibly imperfect victim, yet his plight pulls at the reader.

The sexual content is intentionally uncomfortable. This is not smut; this is a violation, and it hits with that impact. After tasting a lot of flanderized, fuckboi, or Daddy!Dom Gortash content, this tastes like a tannic red wine, washing away the greasy feeling (despite Gortash being so very greasy!)

My constructive criticism is minor, and perhaps a personal tic. The spacing between scenes is irregular, sometimes using dashes, sometimes extended spaces. <hr> is the Web-published writer's friend.

In conclusion: Pygmalion's Folly was believing his carved creation would fix him. But oh, how delicious it is to read him never reach that realization. I await Sardo's future content with baited breath.

Pygmalion's Folly is available on Archive Of Our Own. Remember to kudos your reads!