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aramblingjay · 2 months ago

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The weave of your hands (part 6/6)

Tags: Aragorn/Legolas, friends to lovers, canon era, braiding Words: 16.6K (finished)

“Forgive me. But I will not allow myself to deceive you.” Aragorn reached out, meaning to take Legolas’s hand, his arm, something, just to feel as though his very life was not crumbling before his eyes, but Legolas stepped back. It hurt worse than if Legolas had taken a knife and driven it straight between his ribs. “I did not wish for you to find out like this, on the eve of battle. But—” Legolas’s eyes closed. He seemed at war with himself. “I have heard the gulls.” Or: 5 times aragorn does legolas’s braids + 1 time it’s the other way around

previous parts

+I. Minas Tirith

The thought first came to him on the fields of Pelennor, a fleeting idea conceived in one breath and dismissed in the next in favor of more immediate priorities. Legolas looked radiant as he dismantled the Mûmakil, bow aloft, hair billowing elegantly in the wind—the first traces of what if drifted into his mind at that exact moment, then slipped away with the next Orc to come into view.

He did not think of it again until hours later, busy in the Houses of Healing tending to his people. For those who were physically wounded, he helped apply bandages and salves. For some, his mere presence seemed to give them strength and spirit, little though he felt he had done to deserve such an honor. For Éowyn, there was nothing to be done but wait, for hardly anything was known about the effects of a Nazgûl upon the body. He lingered at her bedside each time he made his rounds, wiping the sweat from her brow, praying to every Valar he could name that breath return to her body. She, who had saved them, deserved most of all to live.

Éomer remained faithfully at his sister’s side throughout the day, holding her hand, speaking to her in quiet undertones in hopes his voice might reach her. Once, Aragorn glanced from a few beds down to see Éomer running his hand so carefully through the strands of her hair, so gently, that even if Aragorn had not known them to be brother and sister, Éomer’s affection would have been impossible to miss. Éomer did it again and again, brushing out the golden strands until they lay on the pillow like a crown around her head, and the gesture tugged at Aragorn’s heart in a way that nearly hurt.

Legolas had never touched his hair, and Aragorn had a fair idea why. What if—would Legolas—

He did not even complete the thought before someone groaned in pain a few beds down and he was called away.

The thought came again as he saw a couple embrace in relief upon finding each other alive; again as a woman wept uncontrollably beside a body covered with a white sheet; again as Pippin brought Merry into the tent to be checked, shaking with equal parts relief and terror. There was no more profound place to experience love than in the aftermath of war—love in all its beauty and horror, the sweet and the bitter.

Aragorn did not sleep that night. Even if he had been afforded the time, he did not think he could have with the echoes of men’s cries in his ears and the knowledge of how many had died to keep Minas Tirith from falling. He was kept company by the single, constant thought that had finally taken full shape in his mind, that of what the future would look like for him and Legolas.

Éowyn woke sometime after moonrise, a victory in itself, but there were scores of men who needed tending, and few hands were as skilled as his. It was not a boast; few in Minas Tirith would have even heard of the Lord Elrond, never mind had the opportunity to learn the healing arts under his tutelage.

There was enough work to be done, therefore, that he did not see Legolas until the following morning, when Mithrandir summoned them all to the throne room to decide what would come next.

Even as their eyes met across the room, he could tell that Legolas did not look his usual self. He appeared diminished somehow, pale and wilted like a plant starved of light. Dread seized Aragorn like the talons of a Nazgûl beast. It occurred to him then, as sudden and terrifying as a lightning strike, that victory against Sauron himself would feel no different from failure if something had happened to Legolas.

But in front of all these eyes, what could he do? Aragorn bade his tongue and focused instead on the problem at hand.

To assault the Black Gate in the hopes of lending Frodo time was a crazy, foolish plan, and one likely to leave no survivors, but he could not see another path froward. When Legolas spoke in that unwaveringly direct manner of his—a diversion—and put Aragorn’s idea into simple words, not a man protested further. They had come this far; with the fate of Middle Earth at stake, they had no choice but to see it through.

After the plan was agreed, Mithrandir and the others slowly began to leave. There were preparations to be made, men to be rallied, goodbyes to be said.

Aragorn lingered, making his way to Legolas.

As a rule, they did not lie to each other. To his knowledge, they never had.

But not lying was not always the same as telling the whole truth, and of obscuring the entirety of a situation, keeping private thoughts and emotions that would have great bearing on the other, they had each been guilty exactly once. Their secret had been the same secret, and its eventual revelation in the bowels of Helm’s Deep had brought forth the greatest joy of his life.

In this instance, there was no such luxury to wait and allow the truth to unfold. If all went to plan, and certainly if all did not, they were not promised a single minute past the following dawn.

Four words. A simple, monumental request. There was no more time left, so he would ask, come what may.

Aragorn came to a stop. Up close, it was even more obvious that Legolas was suffering, dark shadows under his eyes and within them, his usually indomitable spirit shrunken as if under some great weight. “Are you hurt?”

Legolas lifted a shoulder, deflecting. “I do not wish to lie to you, meleth nîn.” Aragorn’s heart skipped a beat at the new endearment, then dropped at the raw vulnerability of the words. Even Legolas’s voice was thin, weak. “Please, do not ask me to lie to you.”

“Very well.” He trusted that if Legolas were gravely injured from the battle, or otherwise in imminent danger, he would not make such a request. Perhaps it was only natural that the weight of the last several weeks had taken a visible toll on Legolas; he had been strong for so long, but even Elves had a breaking point. Though he disliked letting this go, he resolved to revisit the topic at a later moment.

Legolas stared expectantly at him, clearly having realized he had more to say. Aragorn stared back. His tongue felt as though it had been twisted into loops more complex than the ones in Legolas’s hair, and the words he needed stilled on his lips.

“Estel?” Legolas prompted. “Are you well?”

It was the preposterousness of such a question, when Legolas so clearly looked the worse of them both, that spurred him onward. In his heart of hearts, he knew that Legolas would never ridicule him, whether he embraced or rejected Aragorn’s request. He knew, too, that Legolas loved him, and did so with strength enough to stand at his side on the morrow in face of certain death.

Still, his heart was pounding so loud he was certain it could be heard throughout all of Gondor. Aragorn took a deep breath. Four words. “Will you braid me?”

Legolas’s eyes widened. It took a long time for him to speak, and when he did, the words were careful. “You have braided me many times. Do you know what it would mean for me to braid you in turn?”

Aragorn did not know for certain, but he had an inkling. The same inkling that had followed him doggedly since the battle and all through the night, that had taken hold of his heart and refused to let go.

“I can see in your eyes that you know,” Legolas said, reading him perfectly as ever. Then, quieter, “Say it, so I may not have to.”

As Legolas spoke, Aragorn found that he did know, with greater certainty than he could have imagined just a moment ago. “It would mean we were wed.”

After another long pause, Legolas nodded, looking miserable in a way Aragorn had never seen. “Forgive me,” he whispered. His voice broke. “Estel, forgive me.”

A cold, sinking feeling spread through Aragorn’s bones. What had he done? “Legolas—”

Legolas held up a hand to forestall him, and just as well, for Aragorn had not the faintest idea what he could say to fix this.

“Forgive me. But I will not allow myself to deceive you.”

Aragorn reached out, meaning to take Legolas’s hand, his arm, something, just to feel as though his very life was not crumbling before his eyes, but Legolas stepped back. It hurt worse than if Legolas had taken a knife and driven it straight between his ribs.

“I did not wish for you to find out like this, on the eve of battle. But—” Legolas’s eyes closed. He seemed at war with himself. “I have heard the gulls.”

The world itself came to a halt.

“Oh, Legolas.” Aragorn surged forward and took Legolas’s hands in his own, desperate to have him close, desperate to hold him. This time, Legolas did not pull way. “Oh, Legolas, by the Valar. How—when?”

Legolas did not open his eyes. “At Pelargir, when we seized the corsair ship. As soon as I saw the shore, I could feel the song of the sea in my heart.”

The way Legolas looked, haggard and frail, suddenly made sense. Aragorn had heard many tales of Elvish sea-longing over the years, usually told in hushed tones by the friend of a friend of a friend of someone who had purportedly experienced it. It was said to be a force of unimaginable might, powerful enough to pull even the most legendary of Elves back across the sea to Valinor. If Legolas had been fighting such a pull for days—

Aragorn could feel his heart splintering into pieces even as he asked the question, but he could not stomach the thought of Legolas in pain for his sake. “Are you—are you sailing?”

He could hardly bear to hear the answer.

Legolas squeezed his hands hard enough to hurt, as though he too needed something to hold on to. “No. No. I will not leave you to stand alone against Sauron.” Aragorn’s traitorous heart calmed just a fraction—he had nearly been preparing himself to have to put Legolas on a ship before supper. “The sea calls to me, yes, but its pull is not so strong yet.”

Aragorn heard what was not being said. “You believe the pull will grow.”

Legolas nodded. Still his eyes were closed, but a tear leaked from the corner and carved a path down his cheek. Aragorn longed to brush it away, for he so hated to see Legolas cry, but he did not wish to let go.

“I do not know how long I can give you. Perhaps years, perhaps only days. So you must forgive me, Estel, for I dearly wish to braid you and wed you in the way of my people, but I cannot.”

“I thank you for telling me.” Legolas made to pull away, but Aragorn did not let go. Where in the past he had been blind to Legolas’s inner thinking, this time, he felt certain he understood what was happening. “But if you think this changes my desires, you would be wrong.”

“How could it not?” Legolas asked.

“Has the sea-longing replaced what you feel in your heart? Or do you still—do you still love me?” And though he was sure, almost entirely sure, that he knew what the answer would be, still his voice wavered.

Legolas’s response was immediate, and forceful. “You are my Elven mate, Estel. I love you, just as I will to the end of my days in Valinor.”

Aragorn released a breath. Somehow, it felt both fitting and jarring that they were having this conversation in the throne room of Minas Tirith, before the very seat he would be expected to ascend if all went to plan. “Then that is all I need.”

“Only in children’s stories is love always enough. I implore you to set that aside and think rationally. We may not have long. Even in the little time we have, I may continue to grow ill. That is no life for a King, Aragorn.”

Where he had thus far in the conversation been Estel, the switch to Aragorn felt pointed, landing exactly where Legolas had likely hoped it would. What Legolas described certainly was no life for a King, or the husband of a King. But with Legolas, he had never been Aragorn, heir to the throne of Gondor—only ever Estel, a young boy alone in a large world, desperate to belong.

“We may not live past sundown tomorrow, meleth nîn.” Aragorn was pleased when Legolas melted a little at the endearment despite the situation, the lines of his face softening. “The forces of Mordor may destroy us long before the sea parts us. It matters not to me. Whether we enjoy this happiness together for a day or for a lifetime, it will be worth it.”

“Elves mate for life,” Legolas pressed. “If I—if the sea calls to me, our customs would prevent you from ever wedding another.”

“I do not want another. And I do not want forever. I want only you.” Aragorn cupped Legolas’s face and stroked the rise of his cheek, demanding that he hear these words. “Legolas, open your eyes.” Legolas did not. “Lassë,” he whispered, a plea and a prayer. “Open your eyes.”

Legolas opened his eyes. They were filled with tears, and a pain so deep it cut Aragorn to the bone.

“I want only you,” he repeated. “So I ask you again—Legolas, son of Thranduil, will you braid me?”

“For us to be wed, you would wear my style,” Legolas said. “Is that—is that what you wish?” Is that what you wish still, he was asking, as though he thought that Aragorn could ever want something else.

“Yes, I wish that.” Aragorn’s voice did not shake. He had never been so certain of anything.

The ensuring seconds might have been the longest of his life. Every heartbeat thudded in his ears.

Finally, finally, Legolas smiled. The pain in his eyes did not dissipate, but nestled alongside it now was an equal part of joy. “Then I shall braid you by my hand, as you have braided me by yours. Let the weave of our hands tell of our love, and let us be wed.”

The happiness that burst forth in his chest could barely be contained. Unable to help himself, Aragorn leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Legolas’s lips. “Let us be wed,” he echoed, giddy with the prospect of it.

Aragorn remembered his promise to himself in the gardens of Imladris, that he would endeavor to savor the moments of peace and happiness that otherwise too easily slipped through his fingers. Each moment with Legolas was even more precious now that there remained no guarantee how many more would be coming, and if their fleeting time together would have to sustain him for a lifetime, he was determined to commit every single detail to memory.

Indeed, he did not think it would ever be possible to forget the way Legolas reached forward, never once looking away from Aragorn’s face, and deftly fashioned a braid at each temple. His fingers brushed lightly against Aragorn’s skin as he worked; each point of contact left Aragorn tingling from head to toe. With each twist of the braid, Aragorn felt as though his very fëa was changing, shifting and growing to make space for another. The feeling of the moment was indescribable—headier than the strongest strongwine, warmer than the blazing heat of a fire, gentler than the lightest caress.

“It is done,” Legolas said, in a voice that sounded as though it came from the very earth, and so it was. Bound together forever—Aragorn could not imagine a better fate.

And so it was that the Estel who had long lived inside him, searching for a home and a family of his own, knew peace.

And so it was that when Aragorn rode upon the Black Gale to battle Sauron for the very soul of Middle Earth, it was with Legolas at his side, Legolas’s braids at his temples, and Legolas’s fëa in his heart.

#lotr #lord of the rings #aralas #aragorn x legolas #*writing #*fic #*twoyh #IT'S FINALLY DONE!!!

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accultant · 24 days ago

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"That's the kind of question that lands both of us in trouble," Iago replies, straightening up the best they can without putting too much weight onto a slowly healing leg. They don't know the prisoner or why he's here. Usually, they make it a priority to gather as much intel as possible in a new situation, but they're admittedly off their game at the moment.

Not so much so that they lose their natural sense of mistrust and paranoia, thankfully. "If you're hoping to make a deal with me, I'd at least like to know your name first. Perhaps what landed you here, even. Then you can make your proposal."

It is both a shock and a relief that Iago doesn't ignore him like the rest of the guards. Being held prisoner is far from enjoyable and having no one to talk to only makes it worse. It is difficult to tell the passage of time with no outside light and no one to talk to. He honestly would've been convinced he was put into a void dimension if not for the guards' dutiful pacing. Iago actually turning to look at him makes things feel a little more real and a little less lonely.

What is even more of a shock is the presence of a pet who casually wanders the space, hair tie carried in her mouth. Gaze softening as he looks at the cat, he rather reluctantly shifts his gaze back to his captor. Interestingly enough it seems like from his position that he can see the cat but Iago can't see the cat. How peculiar... Perhaps he can take advantage of this. "I'm good with animals. I'll help you if you help me. Are you open to making a deal?"

#asangel #★. *･｡━━━ 🎱 an extraordinary machine ~ ic #★. *･｡━━━ 🌩️ fish inside a birdcage ~ v: bhaal temple #i dont remember what tag i decided Moonrise Era Iago goes in so

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sankttealeaf · 11 months ago

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LET SLEEPING DOGS LIE

it's easier to never acknowledge the situation between them both. why let it burden them? why allow feelings and care to seep in when they will soon be seen as gods?

cracks start to form in the foundation of their alliance. it will destroy them.

or: a collection of interactions between bhaal and bane's chosen, leading directly up to their respective downfalls.

1. BEFORE | A CHILDHOOD SO SWEET

⤷ "I thought you might want to be friends." She remembers her manners and sticks her hand out for him to shake. "My name is Ruelle."

He considers it for a moment and takes her hand with caution. "Enver."

2. A REQUEST OF ALLEGIANCE

⤷ Bhaal's Chosen and Bane's Chosen make contact for the first time.

3. "BHAAL'S BLOODY HISTORY"

⤷ The Hall of Wonders is wonderful place for a first date. Nothing draws people closer together than the sweet embrace of Bhaal!

4. REUNIONS AND NEW UNIONS

⤷ Past connections click into place like a puzzle Gortash has been missing pieces of for years.

5. A YEAR

⤷ A year passes by and the two fall into a routine with each other.

6. DOMESTICATING A BHAALSPAWN

⤷ Enver Gortash's guide on how to make a Bhaalspawn come crawling back to him every time!*

*He cannot be held responsible for any unwanted feelings that may arise. He would greatly appreciate any tips on how to combat these feelings.

7. THE FIRST REFUSAL

⤷ Her nature is not to be refused, yet Rumour finds it rather easy to do when it's Gortash asking for her not to kill for one night.

8. CONSEQUENCES

⤷ Actions have consequences only worsened by time.

9. THE DAWN OF A NEW ERA

⤷ The Gods deliver an important message that cannot be ignored.

10. THAT UNWANTED ANIMAL

⤷ An adjustment needs to be made between them to prevent them from breaking under the weight of the ever growing tension.

11. WHERE IRON MEETS FLESH

⤷ Advancements are made with personal projects and God-driven projects.

12. THE CHOSEN OF THE DEAD THREE: UNITED

⤷ The Chosen of the Dead Three meet in person. There's something hidden deep in the walls of Moonrise Towers.

13. TWO HANDS LONGING FOR EACH OTHERS WARMTH

⤷ Plans begin to form to start their journey to Godhood. Does it matter anymore when all she wants is to be by his side?

14. THE HEIST

⤷ Cania is quite lovely at this time of the year

15. KILL YOUR DARLINGS

⤷ Dreams can be read as warnings, depending on how one interprets them.

16. BEFORE THE STORM

⤷ Cracks start to form in the foundation of their alliance.

17. GODS OF THE NEW WORLD

⤷ Godhood awaits.

18. THE SURRENDER

⤷ She should've seen this betrayal coming.

19. THE BETRAYER

⤷ A betrayal so perfect, why would she feel guilty?

20. THE MOURNER

⤷ They promised each other they would never leave. So why is he alone now?

21. HAUNTED BY THE GHOST OF YOU

⤷ Gortash always knew, deep down, he would do this alone.

22. A LOYAL DOG WILL ALWAYS COME HOME

⤷ Returning to the city unlocks a wave of memories Rue is unsure she wants to relive.

23. ONE LAST TIME, PLEASE

⤷ Rue finds herself drawn back to Gortash, over and over again. He holds secrets and she wants to understand them all.

24. SWINGING BY MY NECK FROM THE FAMILY TREE

⤷ The daughters of Bhaal reunite.

25. CHANGE THE PROPHECY

⤷ It's hard to bring the dead back

26. IN THE DARKNESS I WILL MEET MY CREATOR

⤷ Death's cold embrace grasps Rue tightly. She's alone.

27. YOU BELIEVE ME LIKE A GOD, I BETRAY YOU LIKE A MAN

⤷ He’ll get her to understand it’s them against the world. It always has been.

28. AFTER | PICK IT ALL UP AND START AGAIN

⤷ Final goodbyes and a new beginning.

COMPLETED

finally dropping my durgetash fic links here. it's very self-indulgent but i feel like i should promo it more considering how much of a labour of love it is. featuring my durge, rue [tiefling wild magic sorcerer] (cool gifs of her can be found HERE i really should make more of them)

#durgetash #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #enver gortash #the dark urge #the dark urge x enver gortash #; tealeaf's writing #dividers by @cafekitsune

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apollosgiftofprophecy · 1 year ago

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THE COMPLETE COPOLLO MASTERLIST

Desperately looking for fics to satisfy your obsession with the RRverse's most dumpsterfire of a ship? Look no further than this post :3

I have Copollo fics ranging from Ao3, FF.net, and here on tumblr! Each fic will be linked, and if the author has a tumblr (that I know of - if you know their tumblr let me know!), they will be tagged.

Also, before we begin, I would just like to say that when I say every Copollo fic I can find is on this list, I mean all of them. This includes fics that are canon compliant, crack, aus, and those with darker tones. If that isn't your thing, all you have to do is avoid clicking on said fics. They're all organzied very nicely if I do say so myself. Nothing more to it :3

Look below the cut for the list! If you have any fics that slipped between my grabby fingers let me know so I can add them! :3

Roman Empire Era

A Cruel Occasion by @seductivegrapethrowing

Grapes and Blood (German) by Buttons_Buttons (Rated G)

Fairness by mothmansaysgayrights (Rated G)

The Death of Emperor Commodus by LusiaLovegood (Rated G)

Long Life to You by kitatyourservice (Rated G)

Death's Embrace by me (Rated G)

When the Day Met the Night by me (Rated G)

When Everything's Wrong, You Make It Right by me (Rated G)

Call Me Commodus / Today I'll Be Your Ruler / I'll Also Die Here by kitatyourservice (Rated G)

Of Broken Promises by @money-and-dandellions (Rated G)

Rewrite The Stars by me (Rated G)

drunk off that love, it my head up (there's no forgetting you) by me (Rated G)

Keeping Warm by @soleil-in-retrograde (I reread the Copollo part of this over and over :3) (Rated T)

vow by @daisy-mooon (Rated T)

my teeth will only cut your lips, my dear by localcryptidlivinlife (Rated T)

blood on my shirt, rose in my hand (blood on my shirt, heart in my hand) by me (Rated T)

Always Told You Not To Love Me (Now Look What You Made Me Do) by anxious_tofu (Rated E)

ghost of mine (you're taking up all my time) by anxious_tofu (Mainly perpollo, but there is Copollo :3) (Rated E)

i’ll break your little heart in two by Anonymous (Rated E)

Trials of Apollo

Canon Compliant

As Far As I'm Concerned, You're Just Another Picture To Burn by @solahflare

It Isn't Love, It Isn't Hate, It's Just Indifference by @solahflare

A Pity by kitatyourservice (Rated G)

forget - me - not by localcryptidlivinlife (Rated G)

Song of Apollo by @tsarinatorment (For the Copollo crumb within :3) (Rated T)

Fractures of the Mind (Heart) by me :3 (Rated T)

The Devil Within (His Mind) also by me (Rated T)

Chapter 5 of some ToApril drabbles because my head is as empty as Meg's by orphan_account (Rated T)

Divinity, Fire, and Former Lovers by @seapinecone (Rated T)

Aus

All's Fair in Love & War by me (Rated G)

and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started by Ifyouseemetellmetogostudy (Rated G) (nom nomming)

God of Truth (He Never Knew) by Ifyouseemetellmetogostudy (Rated G)

you make this place hell by Ifyouseemetellmetogostudy (Rated G)

It'll Be Okay by Apollo4612 (Rated Fiction T)

i loved you dangerously (more than the air that i breathe) by @okathleen (Rated T)

i will only break your pretty things by localcryptidlivinlife (Rated T)

@daisy-mooon

Taunt (Rated G)

Outnumbered (Rated T)

Blindfold (Rated T)

Spark (Rated M)

Triumvirate Wins Au by bacchis

to eros, in secrecy

den of the lion (Rated E)

there are a couple more fics in this series if you're interested but only the two above have brief Copollo moments (i will admit this au lives rent-free in my brain)

AUs

Winds of Ruin by me (Rated G)

The Moon Brooch by @trials-of-apollo-my-beloved (Rated G)

Coward by @nyaningthroughlife (Rated T)

Moonrise by me (Rated T)

And historians will call them close friends, besties, murderers of each others’ souls by Ifyouseemetellmetogostudy (Rated T)

The Human Within The Sun by SassyTrio130 (Rated T)

Veruca by cactusstudy (Rated M)

Hazbin Hotel nonlinear AUs

Stayed Gone by me (Rated T)

Hell Hath No Fury by me (Rated T)

Crack (when i say every fic, I mean every fic)

It's a Fun Time in Commodupolis! by Anonymous (Rated M)

Dark

Nothing Like The Sun by Cola_bubblegum

Day & Night by Lif61 (UltimateFandomTrash) (Rated E)

TAG LIST: @moodyseal @plastikstarz @hazardous-lightdas12 @worlds-oldest-teenager here it is! :3

#copollo #masterpost #the trials of apollo #toa #trials of apollo #apollodus #apollo x commodus #apollo #commodus #pjo apollo #toa apollo #pjo commodus #toa commodus #toa fanfiction

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lerihon-posts · 1 year ago

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Dark Urge and Grieving Gortash

This might be a bit disjointed cuz I'm typing this instead of sleeping but thinking about Durge and the aftermath of Gortash's inevitable death. Especially in endings where the party breaks the alliance and kills him. Especially a Durge that's been fairly successful in their quest lines. (Keeps Isobel from being kidnapped, saves all the Tieflings and Zevlor ECT from moonrise)

Do we think Durge even realizes at first that they are grieving? Like yeah absolutely they are aware that grief is a thing and maybe they've felt something they thought was like it about Alfira. But being aware of something is one thing and experiencing it a whole other ball game. Like thinking about it pre-amnesia they're this peak, hand designed by Bhaal Bhaalspawn right? Literally designed to deal out death in droves. Grief would be a pretty useless and largely if not near entirely unfelt emotion by Durge at this point. Grief is something they inflict not experience.

Then you get to Durgetash era, weather platonic or romantic, and it's all kinda agreed by fandom that Gortash is the first person not only to care about Durge but the first person Durge themselves actually care about. A friendship and/or romance so impactful it freaks Durge out. This is what got me thinking; if this is Durge having a crisis over feeling attached to someone and reluctant to kill them for the first time theres no likely way they would have gotten to the point of truly mourning someone before or at least not since climbing the ranks to be papa bhaal's favorite prince/princess.

Now just thinking about an end game Act three resisting Durge standing in Gortash's office with Karlach and very likely their new LI (mine was Gale), deed done and looking down at Gortash's -"no, Enver, he's Enver to us" that persistent voice a the back of their head says- body and feeling that first bit of cold numbness spreading from their heart throughout their chest. Pressure behind their eyes and nose as an Urge, not to harm but to cry, build just as slowly. If it's another character that got the killing blow in maybe unable to look them in the eye with out feeling this sense to *Scream*. A Durge recently born a new free of Bhaal but not their lingering past self, still new to being a honest to gods person and not knowing what was *wrong* with themselves??. They cast speak with dead and hear Bane from Enver's lips and suddenly their body feels like something they have to pilot remotely, their throat burns with a vague wish to be sick.

Do they go to Halsin or Shadowheart later once back at the Elfsong tavern and forcing themselves through whatever this is to comfort Karlach? Chest aching and something all together bitter they don't want to admit to churning in their gut. Do they seek a one of them quietly to ask for a magical heal for this obviously physical poison they must be suffering from only to be told nothing seems to be wrong with them? Do they go through their symptoms confused and feeling numbed and overwhelmed at the same time only for Halsin or Shadowheart to finally reach in through their tadpoles to see what Durge is feeling and then have to explain to Durge that " oak father preserve you, but yours is but a profound sadness; your grieving," Halsin says, or Shadowheart with "you suffer no mere flesh wound im afraid, but that of a much deeper experience; Loss."

Just. All those posts about the dark urge coming to grips with what Gortash actually meant to their old selves, the only people that understood and cared for each other, the only two people who mattered. But then also with the added angst of someone navigating that sadness for probably the first time with no knowledge of how to do that while surrounded by people who wouldn't be able to really understand why you felt that way about someone like Gortash and also yeah there's no real time to process this you gotta fight an elder brain in the morning.

#durgetash #dark urge #enver gortash #bg3 #gale/dark urge

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deadmegumi · 10 months ago

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Ashra realizing the sexy evil drow lady she really didn't want to kill is actually alive and completely willing to ignore her betrayal and come back to camp with her:

#andrew baldurs gate era #I've had trouble justifying rescuing her from moonrise towers before but this is truly just a my pussy has led me places i wouldnt go with #gun situation for ashra

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tacticalgrandma · 2 months ago

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I keep having Thoughts about Dread’s world state post-game. I don’t know if I’ll ever write a proper fic for it—if I did, it’d be a rambly multiperspective thing and I’ve never written one of those before. But here are the thoughts I have now:

After defeating the Netherbrain, Dread and Minthara want to take control of the Absolute, everyone else doesn’t. Tense standoff until Isobel offers to True Resurrect Gortash in exchange for Dread destroying the brain. Dread agrees, Minthara could become Absolute on her own, but chooses not to.

As they’re falling, Dread starts losing her illithid powers. She absorbs the astral tadpole fully, keeping her partial illithidication. Wyll and Astarion, who partook in a worm or two, go back to normal. So does Minthara, who also chose partial ceremorphosis.

Immediately after Minthara is furious and lost—especially after seeing that Dread’s retained her psionic powers while she hasn’t. She leaves for Menzoberranzan. Dread promises her they’ll meet again, Minthara tells her if they do she’ll kill her.

For the next few months, an assassin stalks the streets on Menzoberranzan, killing drow who carved out pieces of Minthara’s estate. The spree ends with the death of the Baenre matriarch and the descrecation of the House’s shrine to Lolth. Minthara then leaves the city for good.

Dread stays in Baldur’s Gate to see Gortash resurrected and Wyll inducted as the new Grand Duke. Aware that the people she loves most have, at best, mixed feelings towards her at the moment, she leaves. It’s the first time in her life she’s ever actually alone.

Dread returns to the illithid colony under Moonrise Towers. She picks up on Gortash and the Myrkulites’ study of psionics, and ends up establishing a psionic monastic tradition since WOTC isn’t going to. Us is her assistant.

Gortash leverages his knowledge of the Baneite strongholds to try to keep Wyll from exposing him to the Gate. Wyll realizes Gortash would only be making that offer if the Baneites were a danger to Gortash. Wyll agrees, under the condition that Gortash bring him his father’s remains so he can try to resurrect him.

Gortash reminds Wyll that a resurrection has to be willing, and asks him if he really thinks his father will come if he calls for him. Look my brain’s just kind of been stuck on a Wylltash hate hookup for a while. We’re probably doing Wyllstarion endgame here. If I ever write a postgame thing I’m probably not even doing this at all. I just think they could really fuck each other up in some neat ways and I keep thinking it.

Gortash got a taste of torture in the Banehold and will do fucking anything to not go back.

Wyll realizes he’s better than his father ever was at politics and it devastates him.

This is a bit of group hc with some discord folks—Wyll ends up hiring Astarion as his personal aide (secretary) to help with some of the legal and bureaucratic issues he’s unfamiliar with. Astarion thrives in his Joan Holloway era.

Wyllstarion drama where Astarion idealizes Wyll and feels like if he’s honest about some of the skullduggery he does on his behalf, Wyll will reject him and he’ll have to go back to the Underdark. Wyll worries he can’t live up to the image Astarion has of him, especially as he has to make hard, morally gray decisions as a leader.

Wyll becomes a tempest cleric of Bahamut post-warlock, to try to carry on Ansur’s legacy. He’s probably able to give Astarion some level of sunlight protection so people just think the grand duke’s bf is being dramatic with his umbrella and big floppy hat.

Lae’zel goes off with Orpheus to free the gith. The egg hatches soon after. Lae’zel immediately hands the kid off to Orpheus. Orpheus leads a revolution wearing a baby bjorn.

Minthara appears at the illithid colony one day, knowing it’s where Dread was most likely to go. Minthara doesn’t kill her. They reconcile. Minthara doesn’t have paladin or illithid powers so she’s an Eldritch Knight fighter now. She’s just like really shredded. She’s so jacked guys.

Realistically Karlach left the party when Dread agreed to work with Gortash. Knowing she’d either die from her engine or become a mindflayer without the artifact’s protection, she solo’d the Iron Throne. Gortash thinks no one survived it, but she managed to free a handful of the prisoners. Mizora made sure Ulder wasn’t one of them.

Gale’s bloody hand is still in Dread’s inventory.

Jaheira tells Wyll that as a Harper, she has a responsibility to hold those in power accountable and this will limit her ability to be a true friend to him. Wyll intellectually understands, emotionally feels like he’s constantly being abandoned and doesn’t handle it with as much grace as he could have. They probably reconcile somewhere down along the line and have a more Nine-Fingers-y dynamic. Just without the fucking.

Oh also more classes: Lae’zel is a blade warlock (great old one) with Orpheus as her patron. Astarion is a College of Lore Bard because I like having two people with Healing Word in the party. I mean because it’s in character. Jaheira’s a multiclass Gloom Stalker and Spores Druid. I still need to nail down Shadowheart but I think she’s a Beastmaster—I keep thinking of her postgame as a cleric bc Asheera fics, but I think in a Dread-helmed party she’d turn from gods more. Karlach was an Oathbreaker, in the NADDPOD antipaladin sense—not actually a fallen paladin, just a hellish version of one. Minsc is a wildheart barbarian with the aspect of the hamster.

#bg3 #dread #dark urge #orig #accumulated shower thoughts while i’m in a big ol depression creative slump

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