#durge x orin makes me HARD

[darkenedurge]

𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐌𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐲.

.

> DURGETASH / GORTASH x DURGE OC

| CONTENT : Fem. Durge | P in V Sex | Table Sex ? | Drinking | Amnesia / Memory Loss (Of course, this is Durge) | Cream 🥧, as usual |

.

"You really don't remember anything?" Gortash asks, stifling his emotions as best he could – with a furrow of his brows, and a hefty swig of whiskey. Though, regrettably, the alcohol didn't seem to be working.

Liliana hums contemplatively, swallowing her own mouthful of booze, the very back of her throat tingling with a delightful, warm burn. "No," She answers, finally, before somewhat backpeddling – "Well.. my memories are gone, yes. But.. I recognise you, in some sense."

Gortash's back straightens, elbows propped suddenly upon the table – wrist, twitching, swilling the remainder of ice and bourbon in his glass. It's chipped, at the top.

Nothing he touches ever remains perfect.

"How?" A singular word, spoken in question, his gaze intense as it reunites with his former companion's. His lover. How he wished he could crown her as such once more.

"It's.. the feel of you. And, strangely, I recognise your scent." Liliana tentatively explains, her brow creasing – as though the words hurt, to speak. Perhaps they do, perhaps everything does, after what Orin put her through. The very thought makes Gortash's jaw reflexively clench.

"My scent?" He echoes, somewhat amused by the sentiment – his lips tugging into a smirk, at the very corner. She recognises his lighter tone, smiling.

"The vanilla," She furthers, cheeks blooming a notable shade of pink, "It's so.. unmistakable."

He hates that, that makes his chest tighten. Or, he doesn't. Maybe, just for a moment – it provides a sense of familiarity. That first time he saw her. He was freshly 23, then. Young, dumb, poor. And she, well, she shone. Like the pretty rubies he'd so often admire in dusty shop windows – perfect, adorned in crimson garments no matter the day.

She told him she thought he was handsome. Bluntly, really, but he liked that. Liked that he knew she meant every word, liked that she called him handsome. Some sort of whirlwind was born from that very moment. Teeth-heavy kisses in alleyways, and stolen bottles of vinegary wine.

Gortash realises he hasn't spoken in at least a few minutes, the silence heavy within the room. Though, it's weight isn't uncomfortable. In fact, he'd been so absent within the caverns of his own memory, that he hadn't realised Liliana had taken to tracing the grooves of his gauntlet with her fingertip.

Her cheek rests on her palm, whiskey drained from her glass. Her skin is still flushed, her lower lip pouting out – as it always has, when she concentrates.

His lips part to speak, the words pouring out before he can consider them – "Would you kiss me?"

Liliana's self-induced trance breaks, finger halting – pressing to the metal of the gauntlet. "What?" She blinks up at him.

Gortash swallows thickly. "Would you kiss me?" He repeats, voice faltering.

There's a moment of silent consideration. And then, she pushes herself up, onto the table – resting on her knees, hands capturing his jaw.

Liliana bends downward, yet also tilts his head lightly upward, and presses her lips to his with noticeable haste.

He's eager, and he knows it – but she doesn't protest. Not as he eases her onto her back, one hand beneath her thigh – parting her legs, so he can slot himself between them.

Liliana's breath stutters, a hand shifting to bury in his hair. Just as she always used to, and Gortash wonders if its muscle memory.

On their own accord, his hips roll – grinding into her. His cock is already, embarrassingly hard.

The movement earns a delicious moan from her lips, breathed as they part from their kiss – mouths slick with saliva, chests heaving.

"Just fuck me," Liliana pleads, forcing Gortash's eyes to widen momentarily, "I need it. I need to–.. let me feel you again."

His head spins, but he's hardly the man to decline such a request. Fumbling, he manages to free himself from the confines of his pants. Swiftly, she'd followed his example – dress hiked up past her hips, panties pulled aside.

The very sight makes him twitch, memories flooding his skull to the very brim.

With one, harsh thrust, he's inside of her – a raw groan ripped from his throat. Gods above, he'd missed this. She's still inexplicably warm, tight, as she clenches around him.

The table beneath them creaks, rattles, as he moves with what can only be described as desperation – whimpers and whines sung from Liliana’s parted lips, like he’d never touched her before. Bathed anew, in the very feel of him.

Her ankles cross, legs tense as they’re around him – keeping him in, caging him in her familiarity. Gortash wants to last, wants to taste every sound that’s tugged from her, wants to imprint the way her eyes roll back, the way her walls flutter around him, the way her head thumps back against the table.

But he can’t, a low moan departing from him as he spends himself – re-claiming her, clinging as she shudders, shivers beneath him.

Liliana’s hair is sticky with sweat, her breathing as ragged as his. Hand shaking, Gortash brushes back a few strands that obscures her vision, their eyes meeting once more. Her pupils are blown wide, a nauseating amount of adoration within them. Gortash is sure he’s dreaming, now, and he almost asks her to pinch him.

Instead, he’s lowered into a kiss. It’s tender, more than any he can recall in recent memory. They’ve only ever known unadulterated desire, violence and malice poured into any intimacy shared between them.

This, it feels nice. Like closure.

“Will you stay?” Gortash asks, voice quiet, and uncharacteristically soft. Please don’t say you can’t.

Liliana is wordless, but nods. Yes.

[maegalkarven]

So look in my mercy mirror.

m!Dark Urge x Gortash, m!Dark Urge x Astarion.

Redeemed!Durge (but not morally), good run.

The team confronts Lord Gortash in his keep.

Karlach wants to kill the man; June has another idea.

TW: tadpoling (not graphic), June refers to Gortash solely by his name.

What are you doing?

Emperor’s voice rings in his ears - in his mind - slightly tinted with suspicion. Funny, for how much the mindflayer insists June can trust it, it doesn’t seem to trust June at all.

You said I need to gather my allies, he replies absentmindedly, hands working on taking this damn cork off and opening the bottle. Such a small thing it is, and how much it contains.

Enver was personally responsible for the creation of this new, nether-touched illithid parasite.

Enver and him; the details are hazy, but June can easily see himself fit into the narrative the lordling painted for him. He can see himself, on top of the world, with crown of Karsus in his hands, ready to conquer the entire Toriel for his father.

What a fool he was.

It’s changed now. He is a changed man.

“June?” Karlach looks uncertain and that hurts.

Hadn’t she learned by now to trust his judgment, had he not proved himself to be a good, loyal friend? The mere fact what she doubts him still is simply unacceptable.

She’ll see, June knows. Once he puts his plan in action, she will see the brilliance of it.

What use Enver’s death would be to her? It would not turn back the time, it would not give her back her heart or ten years of her life.

But this? This can turn the tide.

“It’s alright,” he smiles, but for some reason she doesn’t smile back. Damn it, did the smile come out wrong again? “Just hold him firm.”

She complies, but looks even more unsettled.

“This is...Not what I’ve expected,” Karlach admits. “You...What are you going to do with this thing?”

June smiles; this time the smile comes out right.

“I am going to fix it.”

Enver lets out a deep, throaty chuckle.

“And there I was, concerned they’ve somehow ruined you,” for a man beaten bloody and pressed down the cold tile floor he looks surprisingly content. “Worried Orin damaged your brain too much and somehow turned you into...” he trails off. “But I was a fool to fear that. No, you’re just as you’ve always been.” Another annoyingly long pause and then- “You’re going to tadpole me.”

“Yes,” June smiles.

Of course Enver of all people would understand.

He pulls the specimen out of its glass cage and holds between his fingers. Gently, ever so gently.

Enver’s eyes trail the movement.

“We worked so hard on these curious little things; you’ve worked so hard on them. It would be a shame for you to not test out your own creation, would it not?”

“June,” Wyll calls out and June doesn’t need to turn around to know his friend looks downright horrified.

Why can’t they see?

This is the right thing to do. Death is too simple, too easy. This? This will give Enver a chance to atone for his crimes. No, it will downright force him to cooperate.

And cooperation is exactly what June needs.

He is in your head, comes out an echo of a conversation long passed. Gortash, Gortash, Gortash – this damned lordling is all you can speak of these days! I doubt father approves of that, brother dear.

But June doesn’t care if father approves anymore. June doesn’t do his father’s bidding.

He is a free man, a free and a good man. And if he can change like that, who knows how Enver could?

“This is a chance,” he thinks and realizes he’s spoken aloud. “To work together. To fix the mess we’ve started. To make things right.”

“This is wrong,” Wyll argues. “You know this is wrong, June-“

“Juniper,” Enver speaks. There’s a strange glint in his eyes and it takes June some time to decipher it. There’s dread, of course, but also...Satisfaction? Like this is expected outcome. Like this aligns with Enver Gortash’s image of the world.

June frowns.

“You look entirely too pleased, my dear,” he comments lightly, crouching down to Enver’s level. The parasite dangles from his fingers, sharp jaws opening and closing in a rather rhythmical manner. As if it senses the prey nearby.

Enver manages a weak shrug, still pressed firmly down; Karlach looks distressed but her hold does not waver.

“No sense to panic over something I can’t change, is there?” True, but that does not explain the smugness. “And it’s a relief.”

“A relief?” June slowly reaches out, hand getting closer and closer to Enver’s face. Did he caress this face before? Were they that close?

The deep, annoying longing inside insists they were.

Close. Closer than Bhaal would permit, perhaps. Was he the reason for June’s little rebellion?

If so, it’s only right to repay for that.

“This thing with Selûne,” Enver frowns. “It was entirely...anticlimactic. I am glad you’re as ruthless as I recall you to be.”

June frowns right back.

“You’re delusional,” he replies. “I was ruthless once, but no more. This is mercy. I am sparing you, sparing your life. Enver, I am your savior.”

That makes the lordling look even more smug.

“Of course you are,” he smiles as if he knows something June does not. Annoying. “Now, shouldn’t you cut this ‘will he, won’t he’ business and finally-“

His voice cuts short as June drops the parasite on his face, as close to the eyes as he manages.

The creature crawls up and immediately buries itself into the depths of Enver’s skull. Clever little thing.

June watches, fascinated, as the man struggles while parasite takes a hold on him.

Then he raises an artifact.

Emperor? He calls out. Will you do the honors?

Of course.

A wave of pcionic power washes over them and Enver’s mind clears. He blinks; once, twice, brushes the uncalled tears away. Then looks up, straight at June.

“Not too bad,” comments plainly, asshole. Like June didn’t just turn his life upside down. “I assume you’ll force me to comply with your clever plans now?”

“Of course,” June thought it was rather obvious. “Now we’re going to save the day like the true heroes we are,” he smiles. “We don’t need any gods for that, we don’t need any cults. Bhaal and Bane can fight over the rubbish all they want, but we know better. We are going to have Baldur’s Gate eating from our palms. But first,” he feels his smile turn slightly malicious. “We’ll visit an old acquaintance. Halsik has everything prepared and stands at the ready.”

At that Enver perks up.

“You’re dragging me to Hell,” he comments rather cheerfully. “Again. If I didn’t know better, I’d think a trip to Hell is your idea of a date.”

June snorts, and Karlach snorts, and even Astarion, who was mostly silent through the entire encounter, snorts, though his snort is more unkind than the others'.

“No, silly,” June drags his hands up Enver’s torso until they lay placidly on his chest. Warm, he notices absentmindedly. Warm and familiar. Selûne’s Grace, am I in love with this man?

That would be...unfortunate, all things considered. But not entirely unexpected.

“We are going to break into the House of Hope,” he feels Enver stil underneath the touch. “I assume you’re more than familiar with the place, are you not?”

The lordling wets his lips, then grasps June and uses him as a leverage to stand up. Karlach almost doesn’t let him, but June waves her off and she, rather begrudgingly, lets go of the man.

There’s still a sense of unease about her, unease and...A hint of distrust? Of him, of June?  But he is fixing things, surely she knows that!

“And what exactly are you planning to get there?”

Enver is close, gods, he is so close and his breath is warm on June’s forehead and it’s hard to think- Fuck, they definitely were lovers and June is definitely not over it. Astarion is going to kill him. Or worse, going to be hurt by him, by that. Stop, stop, stop, he needs to stop-

Two things happen at once.

Enver’s hand finds its place on June’s waist and takes a sure, firm hold of it.

Astarion’s mind, gentle in a way a mind of a man intimately familiar with all the ways personal boundaries can be broken, making damn sure he is not breaking and entering into the depths of June’s mind unwelcome, brushes past him.

June lets him in.

Stop fucking fidgeting, his glorious lover complains immediately. You’re giving the bastard a leverage over yourself.

I’m sorry, June immediately blurts and does it with such a force he is sure both Karlach and Wyll heard him. He avoids thinking of Gortash being linked to them the same way now. I’m sorry, I didn’t know, or maybe I did, but didn’t want to acknowledge it, but he’s here and he is so close and I- I am sorry, I am so, so-

Do you take me for an idiot? Comes out a huff and how did Astarion manage to huff through a mental link? You might have emotional intelligence of a redcap, but I’ve been aware you two knew each other on a level what’s far beyond any niceties the moment Gortash stopped his own coronation to gape at you.

He didn’t gape at me, June argues, thought he isn’t so sure now. Was Enver gaping at him? He sure looked friendly, much friendlier than Ketheric and Orin combined. But gaping?

He stopped his coronation, Astarion repeats. To come down from his high horse and chat with you. To welcome you back. He took control over one of his steelwatchers simply to invite you to the damn thing. And you- now there’s an actual, visible huff coming from his lover.

June catches Enver watching Astarion closely; a loose, entirely self-satisfied smile on his lips, hand still on June’s waist, head leaning on his. Enver invades June’s personal space like it’s his life goal, like instilling his presence in June’s life is something he has at his top priority.

This is...flattering.

“No, the fuck, it isn’t,” Karlach says aloud, and it’s a cue for June to realize he might have been thinking too loudly. “This is disgusting is what it is, I can’t believe you would-“

“My sweet June has his strong suits and his weak ones,” Astarion speaks, giving Gortash the smile so sharp it should’ve splinted the man in half. “His awful taste in men is, admittedly, one of the later. Not me, of course,” he chuckles, but June hears the underlying self-degrading tone noneless. They should’ve made Cazador Szarr suffer more. “But other,”  vampire spawn gestures at Gortash. “Lesser men.”

“Lesser, you say?” And of fucking course Enver would take the bait. “I would-“

“Enough,” Wyll all but barks and for once they all comply. “We have bigger things to worry about but you two fighting over June’s affections,” June catches Karlach make a gagging face at that and Enver sending her a rude gesture in response.

Children, he is surrounded by literal children. Worst of all, these children are the ones saving the world with him. Ridiculous.

“Right, right,” he sends a grateful smile Wyll’s way and is relieved to see the man smile back just as warmly. At least someone is in his corner. Someone other than Astarion, but that’s given; June and Astarion are bound for life now, for as long as both of them live.

Admittedly, said life might include Astarion murdering June’s former, current – who could tell? – tyrannical lover in a cold blood. Or hot blood. In a pool of blood, definitely.

June isn’t even sure he would be very angry about it, mostly just...sad? He does seem to care for the said tyrant a lot. Oh, bother.

“We are going to break into the House of Hope,” he reminds these literal children who now are making faces at each other. If anything, seeing Karlach and Enver flip each other off would work for an evening entertainment. June will have to work on this destrusting undertone of her; talk her through it, explain things.

Karlach is a good person, she will understand. June is sure of it.

They’re doing this for the greater good.

“For what?” Enver cuts the chase off. “I assume not to make a deal with Raphael, he usually comes to his victims himself.”

“No,” June agrees. “Not for that, though he tried to strike a deal. He needs the Crown of Karsus, you see? And has something we need. But luckily, Raphael was kind enough to let us know he has it.”

“And why would we strike a deal with him,” Astarion hums. “When we can simply take what we need?”

“Exactly.”

Enver smiles.

“You are planning to steal from him.”

“No,” June leans into him almost involuntarily. He smells...good. He smells familiar. He smells like home. “We are going to steal from him. You,” a sharp nail hits Enver in the chest. The hand is immediately grabbed and held firm. “Are going with us. Care for some heist, my dear lord? Not Mephopheles’ vault, I’m afraid, but just enough for an evening entertainment.”

Enver smiles, wide and sharp and entirely wicked. An evil smile, people would call it. How he managed to convince people of the Baldurs Gate he is not villainous villain is beyond June’s comprehension. By brainwashing them, most likely.

“When let’s rob the devil,” the lordling speaks.

Then he kisses June.

And June can finally breathe.

[flamemittens]

maybe for morgayne and gortash?

Flower Language prompts from here!

Gortash x F!Durge. 1.3k words. *Act 3 spoilers*.

*Now extended and on AO3*

Black-eyed Susan - "Revenge tastes sweet, and so are you."

The first time she meets with him is shortly after the coronation ceremony.

Her companions do not want her to go alone, but Morgayne insists. It is better this way. There is an inexorable pull towards the man that she finds she cannot ignore, and he seems to have at least some of the answers she seeks—if he is telling the truth. They have heard the rumours—from whispers that coil in dark corners, to braver shouts that ring off the buildings and cobblestoned streets—all over parts of the city and its outskirts; in his rise from upstart lordling to city ruler and protector, he has used everything and everyone—whether at his disposal or not—to ascend.

She finds him upstairs in his office, as promised.

He assures her that their plans can still be brought to fruition. He confidently directs, explains to her what they should do, and Gods, that evasive something in her wants to listen. It is all so frustratingly, distantly recognizable. Hypnotic, in a way.

There must be more to it, she thinks. To them. She recalls the torn page she found in the Moonrise mindflayer colony, and its frenetic, tormented penmanship.

“Lord Gortash. Who were we to each other? Really?”

He seems to wince, for some reason, at her use of his title. After a brief silence, he finally offers his answer.

“I meant what I said in the audience hall. You can use that as a reference if you wish.”

Morgayne frowns. “As strange as it may seem, that does not make things much clearer. I only have more questions.”

“Well then. Allow me to fill in some more of the specifics for you, in a way that leaves no room for interpretation.”

“Please do.”

“Have a seat, then.” He sees her hesitate, and adds, in a strangely gentler tone, “I insist.”

They talk for an hour before she takes her leave.

--

She returns to him again a day or two later. She doesn’t really know what draws her there; perhaps it is this nostalgic, tenuous thread of intimacy and trust that she cannot yet determine the root of.

They talk further.

“How are your memories?” he asks, after a while.

Morgayne sighs. “It’s like trying to complete a puzzle but all the pieces are broken, scattered, and some will forever be missing. However, some things are coming back to me, I think. Slowly.”

Something like delight flares in his dark eyes. Something like hope.

She stays for longer this time.

“How was your Archduke, darling?” Astarion asks later as he sidles up to her on her return to the Elfsong, amusement plain on his beautiful features.

“He is not my Archduke” she counters flatly, feeling none of the conviction she tries so hard to imbue the words with.

--

“I heard you went to the Hells today” Gortash begins the next time she visits him. “You’ve been busy, my dear.”

“Yes” she confirms.

She tells him about it all, of Helsik, of Hope, of Nubaldin. Of what the self-important rock gnome revealed before she was compelled to sear the flesh from his bones, to burn away his smug grin—but not how she later felt she had been told part of the story before. That she keeps to herself for now. She speaks of the Master of the House, and how she robbed him blind.

Any other eyes on the scene would think he is not reacting, but she sees something subtle in the set of his jaw, the rise of his shoulders, the pitch of his eyes. How one clawed gauntlet grips the edge of the table, pressing marks into the oak, how the knuckles on his other tightly fisted hand are turning white. How he won’t even look at her, his gaze fixed on the floor as she talks.

“Raphael is dead” she finishes.

His eyes flick to hers eventually, the tension bleeding out of him faster than it bloomed.

“It’s…curious, isn’t it” he muses.

She doesn’t need to ask what he means.

--

As per their agreement, she goes to him after her duel with Orin.

She tells him what happened, down there in the dark. How she defied her father. How she lay there, drained and dead on the cold, bloodstained stone. How she came to be here now, telling him about it all.

“You have our—your revenge, then. And your freedom.”

She takes a mouthful of the Marsember Blush, lets it linger on her tongue before swallowing. It’s a balmy evening, and the wine is as refreshing as it is spicy.

“Yes. It would seem I do.”

He studies her with an almost unnerving intensity over the rim of his glass.

“I always knew, Mori.” is all he says.

That’s the name engraved on the inside of the ring she wears on her right hand, she thinks.

Her Archduke looks tired tonight.

--

The letter arrives the next afternoon, precisely crafted if a little concise, and mildly fragranced like his coronation invitation. She takes it to a quiet corner to read, drinking in its scent. His scent. It is one line, with an Upper City address at the bottom.

M Come to this address tonight. I can promise you it will be worth your while.” E

Later, she slips away from the others, but is intercepted by Jaheira on the landing outside their rooms. The older half-elf appears concerned. She can’t say it isn’t justified.

“I feel we are losing you.”

“Interesting that you should say that. I feel I am finding myself.” She packs as much of an apology as she can into her smile.

Jaheira looks as if she understands somehow. “Be careful, cub” she says, after a beat.

A short time later, Morgayne reaches the building in question. It’s a sprawling, well-appointed manor like many of those in the Upper City. She glances down one side of the building, spotting a tall trellis thick with ivy that scales up to a balcony. A fragment comes back to her then—heavy rain, gloved fingers slipping on the wood before finally reaching stone.

On entering, she is welcomed and led upstairs; she notices the guards, yes, but also the minimal staff, the thin coat of dust over almost everything—he does not come here much anymore, she recognises.

She is ushered into what she is informed are his personal chambers.

Gortash—Enver—sits at a desk, nearby a large chaise that faces an unlit fireplace. Multiple pages of what looks to be Steel Watcher schematics are spread over its surface. A decanter and tumbler, both half-filled with amber liquid, sit at his elbow. He is casually dressed, save for his golden gauntlets.

“Ah, there you are. You found your way here, at last.”

He rises as she approaches, walking around to stand in front of her.

She sees it all then, plain on his face. Relief. Pride. Desire.

He leans in with a confidence, a lover’s closeness that she supposes he has already earned, long ago. Something clicks into place as she smells the whisky on him—it’s less a moment of realization and more of a punch to the chest that steals her breath away—it speaks of the past, of hushed conversations and affection and trust.

The air seems to become warmer, thicker with every passing moment. He’s orchestrated all of this, she knows now. A tableau of echoes just for her.

She believes it all, feels the truth in it.

He kisses her then, and she kisses him back. It’s clumsy at first, like a musician trying to recall a once beloved tune, but she falls into the familiar rhythm soon enough. He trails his mouth along her jawline and pulls her flush against him, as one hand slides round the back of her neck and up into the base of her braid—the cool metal against her warm skin is…grounding.

“Stay here” he murmurs into her ear. “Where you belong. Don’t go back to them.”

And Gods help her, she stays.

[astarionposting]

Hi! Is it hard to learn how to make gifs of bg3 and post on Tumblr? I wanna try so bad :(( do you know a great tutorial?

Hello! It isn’t hard necessarily, but is very VERY time consuming depending on what you want to create. For reference, my last few posts of Durge x Tav and Orin x Tav, took me about 3 days of playing for 9+ hours and a lot of time editing gifs in photoshop (and a lot of photoshop crashing bc my "scratch disks are FULL"... AGAIN!!).

I have some tutorials here that you can check out! It includes some on how I take screenshots, edit them and also how I make gifs with photoshop!

[vividiana]

AO3

hi! I've been posting more about my writing here and I decided it's about time I organise that a bit. I write Astarion x Durge romance featuring my girl Eve. tons of fluff, occasional smut, and generally just comforting vibes because I think these two have been trough enough -- links for everything below the cut!

Multi-chapter fics

the blood on my hands (scares me to death)

(set in act 3, complete, 21k, 3 chapters)

starts immediately after the duel with Orin and takes place over three nights, exploring Eve's emotional turmoil after rejecting Bhaal and what that all means for her and Astarion's future. lots of angst, fluff, comfort, and some smut as a treat

the light we shut out

(set post-canon, ongoing, 31k, 5 chapters)

all about Eve and Astarion figuring out how to live a semi-normal life after the events of the game. domestic fluff, comfort, very little conflict, I'm just writing a happy ending for these two idiots

One-shots/flashbacks

what a wicked thing to do (to make me dream of you)

(set in act 2, 8.6k)

a reimagining of Astarion's confession and what led to it (alternating POVs, tonsssss of pining, a personal favorite)

she's an undiscovered element (either born in hell or heaven-sent)

(set in act 2, 4.2k)

Astarion's POV of the night the Urge tells Eve to kill him (which I wrote mainly to celebrate how much of a ride or die Astarion is for Durge)

could barely tear my eyes away

(set in act 3, 3.2k)

the gang hangs out at the Circus of The Last Days and Lae'zel finds a way to show Astarion what he looks like (of course she can't have people know she actually cares, so she delegates it to Eve.) lots of friendly banter, fluff, and comfort

fall into your eyes like a grave

(set pre-canon, 4.7k)

a re-telling of the night Astarion met the “darling boy” he couldn’t bear to bring back to Cazador, and the punishment that followed. an exploration of his darkest moments that, as hard as it was to write, made me appreciate the comfort and happiness he eventually finds that much more

all of my work is on AO3, but I sometimes post snippets of my WIPs or similar content here on tumblr -- you can find that under the #my fic tag 💕

[sankttealeaf]

Hello there - I was wondering when did you first start liking durgetash? How did you get the inspo for your story? ps Im a huge fan ❤

hi anon!! thank u!! <3

the thing that dragged me headfirst into the depths of durgetash hell was the prayer for forgiveness! i went into the dark urge playthrough knowing very little! (started rue's run in early september but only got around to actually playing her in early october! (act 3 was lagging so bad on my first playthrough i needed to jump ship to simpler times)

seeing other peoples interpretations of their durge & gortash got me thinking a little more about rue & gortash and what they couldve been like! i went into rue's playthrough knowing i was going to romance gale and went woah, theres some similarities between the two there. rue has a type!

(fun fact: my first tav playthrough & the beginnings of my durgetash era overlapped so when i got to meet gortash as my tav, cassiopeia, i was only slightly taken in by him. did not trust him at all, though. stupid man)

i think i love the tragedy of it all. no matter what relationship your durge has with gortash, its still one of closeness. and to have someone you worked hard with ripped from you, only to return now wanting to destroy everything youve made? thats gotta hurt.

as for my fic it kind of started as a series of one shots i started writing, never really with the intent to publish them! i wanted to work out how rue acted before the tadpoling and how different she was then!

the original plan was just a collection of moments shared between rue and gortash throughout their time together. back then rue was still called rue, i hadnt given her another name to further separate her life before & after being tadpoled. i also really wanted to make little letters and notes that you find in the game to go along with the writing. however i only ever made gortash's initial request for a meeting.

(as u can see below. i thought it was a cool concept. no idea how i wouldve fully executed it though)

then it sort of spiralled from there! what if rue and enver were friends as kids? what if they keep finding each other over and over again? what if they always fall to the same fate? i love tragic romances, friendships that are doomed to fail, relationships that can only end one way, so it was very fun to explore all this with them!!

the title was originally a title from a one shot i started writing about them. i think the phrase "let sleeping dogs lie" is very them - after all, why disturb what is a peaceful alliance? why ruin it by admitting feelings or saying words they shouldnt? also dog imagery & rue go hand in hand (despite me saying she's cat coded)

i had key events planned from the start that i wanted to happen, the main thing being how rue lets down her guard over the course of their friendship & how that becomes her downfall!

i also wanted to use this as a way to not only explore rue and gortash, but rue and orin, too!! it meant i could write in their povs, get into their brains and work out why they do what they do! i love villainous characters and finding out the root cause behind their actions (im currently running a curse of strahd dnd game and did the exact thing for strahd - writing up his motivations and intentions to give me better access into his headspace & why he acts like he does!)

at the start i never really intented to publish it on ao3. i added the little prologue after writing the second chapter, and then i decided to bite the bullet and post it! i made this account to share my writing, why not do that!!

im still a little in shock at how many people have enjoyed reading it & especially how many people love rue. ive never written any oc x canon before so it was a little scary putting her out there for the world to see!! sometimes i get that little voice in my head that goes "gr. youre being cringe" and i have to bap it away before it can rot my brain. im allowed to have silly characters and make them kiss other characters - no one can stop me!!

this got a little longer than i intended, but thanks anon!! <3 i hope this has been a lil insightful about the behind the scene of my very chaotic brain behind this fic! its all ive been thinking about for 6ish months now (oh gods)