#brother donnick

[darkurgetrash]

@redroomroaving has indoctrinated me into the soup fanclub, I fear. 😮‍💨

[redroomroaving]

Abdirak x Donnick (aka Soup) sharing a little rest.

[bg3smash-or-pass]

[naughtybg3confessions]

(anon is referring to this confession)

to the brother donnick submitter: i had never once thought about him but now i can't stop thinking of him welcoming a really late, hunger traveler, feeding them until they're sated, or so he thinks until he understands why this traveler is looking at him like that

and he's so young, too young for the temple. are Ilmater monks celibate? now they are. he has an aching need he can no longer resist, but at least he ends the day crying up to his good, just not the way Ilmater intended

[russica]

Did I not post this here? Have some Soup

Abdirak/Donnick aka Good Soup courtesy of @redroomroaving

[hydropyro]

Fan art of Tavs that make up what I’ve dubbed ‘Abdirak’s Acolytes’ from the House of Pain

[captainsieni]

Soup Is Love ♡ Soup Is Life (#1) (#2) (#3) (#4) (#5)

[redroomroaving]

Another Donnick appreciator joins the front.

Soup! Soooooup!

(but, for real, I've been writing about this lovely Ilmatari and his complicated relationship with the priest of Ilmater's sworn enemy, Abdirak, for a little while now, and I'm obsessed.)

Brother Donnick appreciation post.... Do you want soup?

[redroomroaving]

Abdirak x Donnick (aka Soup)

Inspired by stuff in my Sufferer, I Shall follow up.

(if you wanna read about these two forbidden lovers, my fics are here!)

[naughtybg3confessions]

Brother Donnick serves it hot

Every day and night

Just go up the temple, dear,

And tell him of your plight

Bend your knees in humbleness

Tell him of all your hungers

He'll fill you up and send you home

Praising all his wonders

Should food or drink not slake your needs

(Your flesh aches with desire)

Then take your knees with kind Donnick

And let him take you higher

[russica]

Needed something to post so have some Soup!

[tavyliasin]

My Day 2 Picks

Reading Choice

I cannot recommend this highly enough. An unusual coupling - they worship gods that are sworn enemies - that plays out beautifully~

Writer's Self-Promo Pick

And the self promo for the new pairing tag is going to this recent piece of Volo x Barcus which was just far too much fun to write~

KudosCember Day 2 - Two Together

Two Together - A new (to you) pairing

Leave kudos on, comment on, and/or share a BG3 fanfiction work that has been the first you have read with a pairing you hadn't considered before. You can also share a piece of art instead if you prefer! Thank you for supporting fandom creatives and sharing the joy~

[revverencie]

BG3's Most Wanted Non-Dateable NPC - Day 7 Results!

First week of the poll is over! From now on I probably won't be doing daily updates, but I appreciate the patience from anyone who wants to continue to follow along! This thing has 670 form responses and over 950 individual votes, which is about 950 more votes than I expected it to get!

In an exciting turn of events, Gortash has finally been overtaken for second place by Rolan! Raphael still reigns in first though, which I'm sure he'd love.

Shoutout to the Brother Donnick fandom also. I see you guys in my notes every time I post an update.

[blackjackkent]

I know nothing about cooking; is there enough in these recipes for someone to successfully attempt "SOUPS OF THE REALMS BY BROTHER DONNICK"? And if so, has anyone tried? :P

[redroomroaving]

SOUUUUUPPPPPPPPP

The Wolf in the Woods

And yet another secret withers gift, this time for @redroomroaving, and the very second that isn't about Gale! Ao3 links below, and full text for tumblr even further below! The Wolf in the Woods (1393 words) by Librivore42 Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Baldur's Gate (Video Games) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Abdirak/Donnick (Baldur's Gate) Characters: Abdirak (Baldur's Gate), Donnick (Baldur's Gate) Summary: The followers of Ilmater are the sheep of his flock, and the followers of Loviatar hunt them like wolves, so it's said. But Donnick's chance meeting with a Loviatan leaves him with a still-beating heart and more questions than answers.

~~~~~~

Every young initiate of Ilmater had heard the stories about how the followers of Loviatar had sworn to wipe those of Ilmater’s flock off of the earth. It was a story that was very fitting for the evil goddess and her ilk, something to make the younger ones shudder, to clutch their symbols tighter and pray in gratitude that they were in service to a more compassionate god.

Of course, those stories tended to leave out the factions of Ilmatari who were sworn to do the same, because acknowledging that tended to paint things in a… different light. It was far easier to focus on the idea of the wicked Loviatans hells-bent on trying to wipe away the followers of the Crying God, who were bravely enduring as they always did.

Donnick couldn't help feeling that there was something just a little manipulative about pretending they had never done the same.

But that was all academic to him, who was a practical person. He certainly hadn't seen bands of roving sadists threatening his life, nor had he been press-ganged into a holy crusade, so he brushed the matter off as old stories that may once have been true. His life in service of Ilmater had been relatively peaceful. Feed the hungry, care for the sick. Collect herbs.

Sprain an ankle.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. He hadn’t even told anyone where he was going. It was just supposed to be quick, nip out into a little patch of woodland to scrounge up the edible mushrooms he knew he’d seen sprouting, as he’d done dozens of times. There hadn’t been any need to bother anyone about such a small trip.

He’d been ecstatic to spy a patch of wood sorrel in the distance, wandering a little father and lingering a little longer than he’d meant to. The undergrowth was thick and he hadn’t seen the root, only felt it as his ankle caught and bent around it the way it was never meant to, felt it scrape against his skin as he went tumbling hard against a tree.

The leaves swam faintly overhead as he sat up, leaning his back against the offending tree that had left him in a daze in the first place. That was going to sting in the morning. As for the ankle-

He hissed, pulling his fingers back from it immediately. It probably wasn’t broken, but it wasn’t going to be pleasant to hobble back on. Breathing deep, his mind started to work with automatic, rapid efficiency. Dazed, but no blood on his fingers when he touched the back of his head. Ankle, too painful, the strain of carrying him might do more damage, but… some bits of wood, tear some strips from his robe, Ilmater willing he might even find a fallen branch long and sturdy enough- all he had to do was get back, even if it was just within screaming distance, and the healers could take care of it.

There was a chance he might just end up sinking into the deep undergrowth with a broken ankle and no more plans, but it was better than not trying at all.

He nodded to himself, pleased with his own decision, willing the leaves overhead to stop swimming so he could put it into practice. As he waited, as he took deep breaths and started to move his hands around in the hope of finding something to splint his ankle with in the immediate vicinity, the man seemed to… appear. Melting out of the shadows, like a wolf on the prowl.

Wolf was an accurate descriptor for the little mane of white hair that was pushed out of sharp grey eyes, for the predatory air in which he moved around the tree to step closer, and the sharp dangerous edge to his smile. The sharp and dangerous edges of his collar and shoulders, held at the front by an equally spiny design that didn’t hide any of the skin marred by scars and bruises, the pale skin even starker against the red, the purples, and the black of his clothes.

Nine edged lines.

One became familiar with holy symbols without really meaning to, especially in such a large city, especially with so many refugees who needed more than healing and food. Sometimes it was enough to know their symbol had been recognised, a relief that some part of their identity still held.

This one, he’d only ever seen in a book. Never did he think he’d see it splayed across someone’s chest, alone in the woods and with nobody knowing where he was.

Loviatar.

The jolt of realisation ran through to his limbs, giving him the impetus to try and push himself up. It would have been more successful if the other man hadn’t put his solid leather boot onto his chest, forcing him gently back down. The toe knocked against his symbol of Ilmater, and he grabbed it out of the way, levelling a glare at the other man for his blasphemy.

The man just laughed, sudden and sharp like an arrow in the shoulder.

“Come to gloat, have you?” Donnick managed as the boot pressed just a little more. “Or are you here to kill me?”

“Kill you?” The Loviatan’s voice was low and amused, with a rough edge to it that prickled down his spine, not unpleasantly.

The knock to the skull must be messing with his head.

“If you're going to, get it over with.”

Another laugh, longer and deeper, curling in Donnick's gut in a way he didn’t want to look at too closely, and he opened his mouth again just to distract from it.

“Or is this not the right kind of pain for you that you want to put me out of my misery?”

Oh he shouldn’t have said that. The boot left his chest, the eyes darkening and came much closer than he was comfortable with.

“You presume to teach me about pain, little Ilmatari?” The voice was low and rough, just on the cusp of a growl, on the knife-edge of warning, and Donnick closed his eyes tightly, his fingers clasping around his holy symbol as he whispered prayer after prayer to ward away the feeling of the Loviatan’s breath on his face, feeling like a young initiate in a nightmare.

He was alone in the woods with a maniac. Worse, a manic with faith and purpose, which was always the least reasonable kind.

“Pain without purpose is a waste.”

Long fingers wrapped around his ankle and pressed down firmly. Donnick stifled a yelp into his wrist, only to hear a soft tutting noise him. Firm fingers pulled his arm away, held his chin in place.

“None of that, Ilmatari.” Abdirak’s eyes roved over his face, taking in the beads of sweat on his forehead and the tightness in his jaw with the pleasure of a connoisseur. “Don’t run from it. Let it clear your mind.”

It was sharp, cutting through the panic and the dazed thoughts that were running purely subconsciously, a sort of blurry, background lucidity, and things seemed to come back into focus.

“Pain with purpose,” the man breathed, warm against his face, as warm as the hand on his wrist. “What was that about ‘getting it over with’?”

He tilted his head curiously as he went on. “You know nothing of our order. One does not simply… get it over with. If I were to kill you, I would savour the sweetness of your pain like a fine meal. A beautiful offering for the Mistress of Pain's altar.”

“Oh good.” Donnick sounded a little hysterical as he tried to push further into the tree behind him, but his new clarity of mind latched onto something important.

“If?”

“Hm.” The man stood again, not before swiping a finger along Donnick's jaw. “It seems such a waste,” he murmured. “And I'm afraid I have other pains to attend to.”

Another tap of a boot against his chest, another too-sharp smile, and before Donnick could speak, his first and hopefully last Loviatan enounter sank back into the shadows, leaving him with enough fight or flight adrenaline that he could probably run all the way back, ankle be damned.

He let out a breath that he hadn't even realised he'd been holding.

What in Ilmater’s name had just happened?

[dirtybg3confessions]

If seen so many obscure NPCs on here but nothing about Brother Donnick. I want to run my hands through his curly hair and let him tie my wrists up like the holy symbol of Ilmater <3