#getting in their brains like a mindflayer parasite

[sankttealeaf]

Hey tealeaf :) I was wondering what are rues and envers love languages?? If you have any thoughts youd like to share please do

hi anon!! thanks for asking! i have Many Thoughts :D

rue:

acts of service mostly! she's been told if she does things, she'll be rewarded (see: murder = bhaal's praise.) and that translates pretty well into her & gortash's dynamic!

throughout their time together it goes from the less traditional "i'll get rid of this man for you" to dropping by with some food she's picked up or helping him with something he's working on.

i think rue is very praise driven and once gortash figured that out it's over for her. he uses that to his advantage every time and it takes her a long while to clock onto it. (she responds better to words & gifts rather than touch)

gortash:

gift giving! at least around rue, anyway. there's not much use trying to woo her with pretty words (she doesnt believe them) or lingering touches (she'll bite his hand off), but gift giving plays so well into rewarding her acts of service

and there's some very fun themes of identity that have been lingering in my mind when it comes to it - he gifts her new clothes, jewellry, pretty things to wear and eventually her entire wardrobe has been hand selected by gortash & her connection to the temple (her old clothes) are shoved in the back of her mind, never to be looked at again. i think thats fun to think about.

there's also the idea that gortash, growing up poor and now having wealth, feels the need to prove to others that yes, he is richer than you, in a kind of "i am better than you in every way" way. mix that with the idea that when he and rue were kids they talked about running away & their main concern was having enough money, it makes sense to me he would indulge her in his wealth. sure, she didn't help get him started and she isn't entitled to any of it, but there's something fun to him about treating your (one) friend (situationship) to nice things, all while looking down at people.

i think rue likes having all these things thrown at her. she is a bit self-absorbed, especially being bhaal's chosen and fully believes she is allowed to get nice things from others - it proves their devotion to her! he gets to slowly consume her identity and wants and needs, she gets pretty things. perfectly balanced (very unhealthy)

quality time is one they both share, purely for the fact that deep down they both fear losing each other. i really like the thought of them sitting by each other, doing separate things and if they need to bounce ideas then the other is right there.

and early mornings, right before they need to start their day, theyre entangled with each other and spend a good few moments just being in the others company. then reality hits and theyre off going to be evil.

stick them in a locked room and i think they wont even notice that the door is locked. theyre over in the corner scheming together.

[meanbossart]

Love Drow's camp greetings, but now I've got to know-- what would his romance path look like?

(This was a REALLY FUN thought experiment, thanks for asking about it!)

You'd get approval points by: -Picking the joke dialogue options, especially if they're dark or crass. -Succeeding intimidation checks. -Starting fights no-questions-asked with characters that don't immediately show you respect. -Defying authority. -Antagonizing drows, githyanki, mindflayers and goblins. -Being friendly towards animals. -Showing willingness to do what the dream visitor suggests. -Notable boost if you let him take on the Loviatar priest in your stead.

You get disapproval by: -Disclosing to people that you're infected with the tadpole. -Agreeing to help NPCs who aren't offering to get rid of your parasites. -Some deception checks (he doesn't always realize you're lying). -Being distrustful/pushy with Shadowheart. -Siding with the absolute. -Trusting or empathizing with the Emperor at all after he reveals himself (Yes, he will leave you if you bang the squid). -Massive point loss if you don't let him take on Orin on his own.

[More elaboration underneath the cut, CW for terrible relationship dynamics and implications of sexual coercion, especially within the context of BDSM.]

He can be persuaded to allow you to have a one-night-stand with Halsin, but will not agree to a three-way relationship or long-term arrangement.

He will stay with you if you sleep with Mizora without the need to roll for anything, but you will lose a lot of approval.

He will agree to a four-way with the twins at Sharess Caress if you ask him about it, but only after you complete his quest. If he has lost to Orin he will kill the twins during the act. If he has accepted Bhaal, he will ask if you want to kill them with him, but you can refuse/dissuade him from doing so.

In regards to his personal interactions, you would usually get choices between antagonizing him, expressing fear, not taking him seriously at all, or making flirtatious advances.

He's neutral/disapproving towards flirtation prior to triggering a romance (though he still reacts flattered). He's neutral/approving of not being taken seriously and/or being feared, as long as the PC is being somewhat facetious and not expressing outright distrust or doubt toward his capabilities. Basically, as long as what you're saying implies that he's formidable, or makes him laugh, he will like it.

After the romance is initiated, he will enjoy flirtatious dialogue options that put him in the role of the desired, compliment his looks/abilities, or express general affection. You would also get options that paint him in a kind of "sexually predatory" light - he doesn't like those.

You could encourage him to embrace his Urge at the start of the campaign for approval, then he flips to wanting you to discourage it after it grows outside his control. If he accepts Bhaal, this switches it back to where he approves of it being encouraged. If he loses to Orin, he will just agree with you whether you tell him to give into his Urges or keep fighting them.

You can break up with him at any point unless he has accepted Bhaal; In that case, he won't agree to it and say that when he takes over the brain you won't have a choice on the matter. The only way to keep him from betraying you during the ending is to either kill him or staying in the relationship with him and dominating the brain together.

As for the actual romance scenes, it'd be similar to Astarion's route where you get to sleep with him right away, then the following interactions are more focused on other forms of intimacy and developing the emotional side of the relationship. You would get the option to push for more sex every time, which he would turn down out of fear of what the Urge might do if he goes along with it - if you keep pushing even after that, it gets you disapproval.

During the scene that locks the romance path (prior to arriving at Baldur's gate) you can persuade him to have sex, and if you succeed he will lose control and try to murder you during the act. The only way to survive it is to kill him instead. You can be resurrected if you lose (he cannot) but he then breaks up with you.

The "themes" of his romance are supposed to allude to the different dynamics of a maso-sado/dom-sub relationship. If you push him to pursue Bhaal you are setting yourself up for a 24/7, lifelong arrangement. the relationship is reduced entirely to your sexual desire for each other, the pushing of boundaries with no limits, and constant one-upmanship. You are no longer allowed (and outwardly mocked) for displaying any tenderness that isn't sexually charged, and he will become angry with you if during your night together following the finalization of the quest you don't pick the aggressive/violent options during intimacy.

If he loses to Orin, he becomes entirely emotionally dependent on the player character, willing to bend to your every will and latch onto the PC as his new master whether or not they agree to it. He is terrified of his fate and desperately wants to please you so you don't abandon him before he loses himself. You can either take advantage of this and revel in the power you have over him, become frustrated, or demonstrate patience and try to encourage him to hold onto some individuality. You can also just kill him, which he will allow you to do through dialogue options at any point. During the romance scene that follows this path, you can only have sex if you restrain him completely first.

If he refuses Bhaal, you get yourself a quiet, cocky, but loving weirdo who enjoys play-dynamics a healthy amount but is ultimately in it because he likes you as a person. He's willing to compromise on the maso-thing as long as you don't put him down for it, and it is implied that while things may not be perfect, you are both willing to work on it through mutual understanding and patience because the relationship is based on more than just burning desire or co-dependency.

[ancuninfiles]

Euphorbia

GIF by @ishaslife

3.4k words - F/M - Astarion x F! Reader - 18+

Work summary: Three days of relentless arousal toward the opposite sex were the result of confusing purslane with euphorbia—an error unbecoming of even a novice druid, as well as a self-taught one like yourself. Naturally, with your luck, those three days couldn’t be spent quietly in seclusion. Instead, you were abducted by a Mindflayer ship and infected with one of their parasites.

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You were panting, squirming, and nearly whining—it surprised you that he hadn’t killed you yet with the fuss you made. You couldn't help it, though, and you felt horrible for subjecting a stranger to such behaviour, whether he was murderous or not.

“You're quite the feral thing, aren't you? Perhaps I should just put you out of your misery—hm?” He quipped, and you felt a light brushing of what felt like his lips on your throat.

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Tags: shameless smut, aphrodisiacs, sex pollen vibes, outdoor sex, cunnilingus, P in V sex, praise kink, blink and you'll miss it degradation, astarion has a big dick, mildly dubious consent, fingering, creampie, vampire bites, no beta

MASTERLIST (Other works)

Read on AO3 for full tag list (recommended)

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Three days of relentless arousal toward the opposite sex were the result of confusing purslane with euphorbia—an error unbecoming of even a novice druid, as well as a self-taught one like yourself. Naturally, with your luck, those three days couldn’t be spent quietly in seclusion. Instead, you were abducted by a Mindflayer ship and infected with one of their parasites.

Fortunately, the nautiloid primarily housed women among the living, except for a cambion who was easy enough to avoid.

Now that the ship had crashed, you could only pray to the gods that you didn't encounter a man, for fear of embarrassing yourself in these unfamiliar Faerünian lands. From the dead fishermen and barrels on the beach, you suspected there was a settlement nearby, but you decided to stay away for a few days to be safe. After all, you knew how to live off the land and could all but hope that you wouldn't turn into a Mindflayer.

It was unfortunate that the cleric had been knocked out cold on the beach; otherwise, you would have asked her for help. The gods had not been kind to you in the past two days.

So, you fought the intellect devourers on your own, an easy feat in which you were left with only one scratch; perhaps your luck was beginning to change.

You waltzed through the nautiloid, looting what you could and staying vigilant to avoid any more unwanted encounters. Exiting the crashed ship, you headed up a dirt hill, watching the ground and trying not to trip as you went.

“Ah, at last, another soul.”

The voice, likely a man's judging by the tenor, stopped you in your tracks. A primal heat lanced through you as you hesitantly raised your eyes to meet his—though you weren't sure if it was solely the euphorbia or perhaps trepidation. 

Oh no, this wasn’t just any man; it was a beautiful man with perfectly groomed hair and an alluring, herbaceous scent. His jawline was sharp and his eyes, piercing—all ingredients in a dangerously intoxicating and irresistible recipe.

“Hurry, I've got one of those brain things cornered,” he said, requesting your assistance. “You can kill it, can't you? Like you killed the others?”

As desire surged through your lower abdomen, you knew you had to leave—now. You spun on your heel and, without a word, started walking away from the gorgeous elven man, using every bit of willpower within you.

In your mind, you pictured what his length might look like, and how it would feel if he released inside you—depraved thoughts that you ought to keep to yourself. You had to get far away from this man, as quickly as possible.

“I was hoping for a kind soul, but, not to worry,” was all you heard before he grabbed your waist, and you toppled to the ground with him at your back as he held a dagger to your throat. His groin was surreptitiously pressed against your bottom, and he held your body firmly against his, hooking an arm under and around both your upper limbs and ribcage—effectively immobilizing you

Surely, this was the worst-case scenario. Though, if he killed you, it would at least relieve the shameful yearning in your nethers—a yearning that was becoming stronger the tighter he grasped.

You clenched your teeth as you panted, attempting to stifle any salacious sounds that might come unbidden. However, you couldn't help but squirm under his grasp, causing his arresting grip to tighten and, consequently, your hole to quiver. Whether it was to escape or to attain friction where you needed it most, you didn't know, as you were irrevocably enthralled by the plant medicine coursing through your veins.

“Shh—not a word, not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours,” he purred, the low timbre of his voice oscillating through your core.

“Please—let me go. I'm not myself, and you don't want to be around me when I’m like this,” you protested, your nipples hardening as your breasts rested above his forearm.

“Don’t lie—I saw you on the ship, didn't I? Nod,” he argued, his breath brushing on your ear causing you to crane your head back in the dirt and onto his shoulder.

You were panting, squirming, and nearly whining—it surprised you that he hadn’t killed you yet with the fuss you made. You couldn't help it, though, and you felt horrible for subjecting a stranger to such behaviour, whether he was murderous or not.

“You're quite the feral thing, aren't you? Perhaps I should just put you out of your misery—hm?” He quipped, and you felt a light brushing of what felt like his lips on your throat before a sudden painful violet aura encapsulated you both, halting all actions and demanding attention.

Visions of dark alleyways and the Baldurian nightlife flooded your mind. These were the memories of the elven man who held you to his chest—memories of hiding in the shadows.

The aura died down, leaving you confused as you tried to catch your breath in the stranger's arms.

“What was that?” He asked.

“I think it was the parasite, it—connected us,” you guessed, panting as your hips shot back against his groin unbidden. To your surprise, he was hard. 

Fuck, when did that happen?

“Hm.” He pressed his pelvis into your bottom experimentally, “I saw your naughty little thoughts, my dear,” he whispered directly in your ear.

You tried to stifle a moan but you were unsuccessful, as your will was whittling away, bit by bit. 

He dropped his blade to place his hand on the inside of your upper thigh, where he gripped sensually. You tipped your head forward as your face contorted in pleasure and your eyes began to water—you were vehemently craving this man's merciful touch.

“Shh— I've got you. I only need your name and your permission. Let us help each other find release—hm?” He crooned, as he moved his hand from your thigh to your waistband where he teased his fingers under it.

Gods, this was a horrible idea, dangerous even—but he smelt so fresh and his sonorous voice felt as if it were caressing you inside and out. Your will was faltering, and if you died on this endeavour, you thought you might at least die while having fun.

“My name's—hm—Tav,” you spoke, a needy whine breaking your sentence. 

“Astarion, pleasure to meet you.” He pushed his hard, clothed cock between your bottom cheeks, eliciting a moan from you. “Now, darling, tell me what you want, and it shall be yours.”

Your mind was racing, the only thing you could think of was how big his member felt as he pressed it to your backside, and how you wanted to be completely taken by him here and now—nothing else mattered.

“I want to be ravished, here—on the cliffside,” you admitted, uninhibitedly, a sweat forming on your brow.

Astarion clicked his tongue. “You poor, sweet thing. You want to be filled by a stranger so desperately. Not to worry, I can help you—if you're a very good girl.”

He released his grip at last, and you couldn't help but whine in dissent. His grasp was soothing, after all.

“Tut tut—how else are we going to get undressed?” He chastised before standing to lift his shirt above his head, his muscles rippling with the movement.

His scent became stronger as he folded his shirt and placed it on a patch of grass. He put his thumbs under his waistband and started pulling down his strays.

You watched him raptly as you began tugging down your own, along with your underwear as you sat on the ground. His glistening hardness sprang free and it was most definitely going to be the largest you'd taken before. Perhaps the gods were going to spare you, after all. 

He cavalierly folded his pants and placed them with his shirt before removing his shoes. He knelt to you and slid his hand down your shin before removing one shoe and then the other.

You came up to your elbows as you simultaneously watched and felt him snake his hands up your thighs in tandem, experimentally squeezing your hips before beginning to fuss with the tie on your shirt.

He made eye contact with you as he finished unlacing your top with one dexterous hand and gripping your ribcage with the other. He pulled your unlaced shirt apart, thoughtfully, as it rested on the ground around your elbows. Before he could finish the job, he dove into your breast with his mouth, sensually nipping and sucking on your pebble while he held your other breast, toying with your nipple with his thumb.

You wanted to throw your head back in pleasure, but you couldn't take your eyes off of Astarion. The way his tongue flicked on your mound was sending waves of fire through your body, and you thought you might cum from just the sight of his reverence.

His mouth disconnected from you with a pop, a string of saliva connecting him to you. “Apologies—your body is so beautiful, I just couldn't help but have a taste,” he purred as he thumbed your now wet pebble.

Your thoughts were muddy with desire, which made speaking difficult. All you could manage was a whiney “Thank you,” as he helped you take the rest of your shirt off.

How lucky you were that the man you encountered seemed to be a gentleman. He could have easily been a brute, and in your state, you're not sure if you'd be able to resist either way. 

Astarion descended to your core with his face, licking a thick and soothing stripe through your folds and causing you to arch your back. As soon as his tongue made contact with your clit, it sent an electric pulse through your womb.

“Delicious,” he exclaimed, and you watched him intently as he grabbed your thighs and began sucking on your clit, groaning into it like a man starved of his favourite meal.

His pace on your bud was consistent, he must have been practiced because he was bringing you to your peak already—either that, or the euphorbia was working its cruel forbidden magic.

You clenched around nothing; your body felt too empty—it yearned to be filled. Fingers, cock, toys, anything to soothe the burning need that now caused you to keen in pleasure.

Astarion laughed a low rumble in his chest at your cry, continuing his work on your nub with his sinful tongue.

“Please—Astarion,” you supplicated, unable to fully express your need as his laps quickened.

He rose, replacing his tongue with two digits that rubbed taut circles—the pace matching that of his tongue. “Please, what?” He asked, a roguish grin painted on his face.

You groaned through gritted teeth at his toying, as your brows knitted together. You wished he could just read your mind as he did before, as your words were caught in your throat.

Tensing, you were close, and as if he could sense it, he slowed his pace, not allowing you to reach your end.

“Please, what?” He rasped.

The nerve.

Your vision was becoming foggy, and you felt like you might faint if you didn’t reach fulfillment soon. You tried one last time to speak, managing, “Inside,” through gasps of air, though you could only hope that he was satisfied with your plea.

He did not respond, but you could feel his fingers as they parted your lips below. This was an action that would typically embarrass you—hells, all of this was—but your logic felt irrelevant. 

All that mattered was the way his tongue felt when he continued and the way his two fingers felt as they plunged into your hole. He pumped languidly with curved digits, repeatedly hitting your sweet spot and causing you to sob with ecstasy.

The combination of his fingers fucking you and his tongue passionately playing with your bud was creating a feeling similar to falling within your body. Surges of rhapsody lanced through you as you approached your peak. Astarion growled beastially from his depths into your quim, and it was enough to push you over the edge as you quivered around his merciful fingers.

He continued his worship as you rode out your orgasm and tried to catch your breath. You couldn't help but be filled with gratitude for this man—he could have easily used your body for his own pleasure, but instead, he put yours first.

However, as soon as the fire faded, another was lit and you were aching for release once more. He removed his fingers and face from your channel and you pouted, but he grinned devilishly at your frustration.

Soon enough, he climbed atop you and between your legs. Astarion clicked his tongue. “You poor girl—if only we had at least a blanket for you to lie on,” he crooned before leaning down to kiss you. At first, his lips were closed, but then he added more passion, attempting to part your lips with his. You submitted, allowing each other to delve into one another's maws with fervour.

He groaned into your mouth as you felt his tip tease your entrance—you certainly did not care about the dirt on your back now. He kissed down your jaw to your neck as he inserted his length just enough to make you plead for more.

“Would you mind if I bit you, darling? I only need a taste—I swear,” he asked as his lips brushed your throat, his words, laced with desperation.

His words confused you—you felt too befuddled to comprehend the entire consequence of accepting his request. Additionally, if allowing him to bite you meant that you'd be speared on his hardness at last—well—you'd do anything he asked of you.

You were able to hum your assent, and his hips thrust into you, filling you fully. You weren't sure if you could even fit him entirely as he stretched you more than anyone ever had. 

Though his entry was painless, his bite was not. It took you by surprise, and you scolded yourself internally for not thinking through what he said. You knew that some people had interesting kinks, but to bite hard enough to draw blood was. . .

Not a kink, but a diet.

Astarion, the man who was fucking you oh so heavenly into the earth, was a vampire. Not only that, but also he was now draining you of your lifeblood.

But, fuck, it felt so good; the way he was slowly rutting into you as you adjusted to his size. Even the pain of his bite faded into a throbbing numbness as he brought his hand to the back of your head and pulled it towards him. 

For some reason, your vulnerability and feebleness compared to his dominance and power only served to stir your desire more. You would let yourself be completely consumed, utterly devoured just because it felt right. 

As if it wasn't enough stimulation already, Astarion’s cock was seemingly growing within you the more he imbibed. His thrusts were slow and purposeful as if he were trying not to hurt you. He would pull out nearly all the way, only to stuff you moments later repetitively. 

Rolling his hips, the stroke of his thrusts lessened, as he converted to fully sheathing himself, twirling his pelvis teasingly, and then pulling out mere centimetres before repeating these careful movements again and again. It was as if he was trying to balance his focus evenly on both his meal and his veneration.

However, the corners of your vision were becoming spotty and black, signifying your demise. You could all but choke out a moan while your arms lay limply beside you. This was it— you, a willing victim, were going to be exsanguinated by a vampire.

I'd probably turn into a mind flayer, anyway, you thought.

Whether it be by a miracle or pure chance, Astarion seized his bite, catching his breath as he stilled inside you. Moaning, he pressed the flat of his tongue against your neck as he caught his breath and tidied your wounds.

“Sorry—It seems I was over-eager,” he apologized with sincerity, still craning his head into your shoulder where he placed a few chaste kisses.

Your hands and feet tingled, accompanied by an overall weakness and lightheadedness—a feeling similar to the high of certain smokable herbs in your druidic practice. Your familiarity with these physical symptoms brought you comfort; you knew you were okay, his apology as reassurance. 

How could you feel unsafe beneath a creature who could have easily killed you, or worse, but instead, he has continuously provided sacred relief. This was no mere monster using your body, this was a man seeking his own version of mercy through you—through your ambrosia.

He lifted his torso from yours, yet he maintained your lower entanglement, gripping your bottom and hoisting your pelvis to fuck at the right angle. His body was glistening and his hair was damp with sweat. With knitted brows and crimson dripping from the side of his maw, he watched your body undulate as he speared you repeatedly—a shakey groan tearing through him.

Suddenly, Astarion sucked on his index and middle finger, coating them in his saliva before placing them on your swollen nub and rubbing taut circles while he rutted—causing you to keen once more with an arched back. 

A low and throaty chuckle seeped from him as he smirked at your response to his reverence. “Sweet girl—you want to be so full of my seed, don't you?”

Your cheeks were wet due to crying from the overwhelming drug-induced pleasure combined with Astarion's sheer skill as he worked you toward your climax.

“Uhuh,” you whined, desperate for release.

“I thought so,” he clicked his tongue, “You're doing so well—just stay still.”

You had not noticed before but you had been squirming a bit, which likely confused him, making him unsure of your needs.

How could someone make check-ins sound so—sexy?

You tried your best to relax your body, though your lower muscles tensed as he spat on your hole while he fucked into it.

“That's a good girl—cum for me.”

His words were enough to send your orgasm ripping through you like a violent quake as he rubbed your clit vehemently. You fluttered on his girth, and you felt so terribly full with him inside you. 

Astarion hummed deeply at the feeling of your climax, biting his lip to seemingly stifle an undignified moan. “Very good—now for your reward,” he praised.

Removing his hand from your folds, he cleaned your juices from his digits with closed eyes, as if savouring the flavour. His pace picked up as he removed his fingers from his mouth and effortlessly grabbed your lower cheeks for leverage. 

The daylight shone on his toned chest, refracting golden hues off of his porcelain skin, as the sun seemed significantly lower than it was when you began your tryst.

His muscles flexed as he pumped into you rapidly—wet, salacious sounds emanating off of your divine entanglement.

Your eyes met his, his brows canted up as his mouth fell agape—desperation painting his expression as his pace became ragged and uncontrolled.

At last, he spilled inside you, sheathing himself fully as he coated your womb with his essence. Huffing, his shoulders melted down as he watched your combined juices leak around him while he rocked shallowly into your swollen folds. 

His touch on your hips was cool and soothing, and you began to regain lucidity after your last orgasm—though you knew it would only be temporary.

“Your blood—it was—amazing,” he exclaimed through breaths. “I feel—happy—and curiously aroused.”

Oh, no—the euphorbia.

With your remaining clarity, you spoke, “You might be feeling—the effects of a drug I accidentally took,” you say, a huff of air breaking your sentence, “euphorbia.”

“Well,” he said before snapping his hips into you. “We might be here all night, then, won't we?” He rasped with a roguish grin and blown-out pupils before lifting you to sit on his length while he sat on his heels. “Let's hope nobody chooses this path this evening.”

You wrapped your arms around him, whining your agreement as he took you once again, though you were far past caring about being caught.

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Notes: Firstly, I'd like to thank you all for your continued support as I take on this new, enriching hobby of writing smut LOL. I've learned a lot since my first work, and I continue to learn as I receive constructive feedback and continuously do my own research.

Secondly, I just wanted to add that under no circumstance should anyone take advantage of you, specifically sexually. This is fiction, and it's sexy because it's not real.

Also, during this work, I compare the feeling of blood loss to "smokable herbs", as a way to make "Tav" feel at ease with the symptoms. If you are experiencing the same symptoms as her after losing a bunch of blood, please dial 9-1-1 (or whatever the emergency number is in your country) IMMEDIATELY. You are probably going to die if it's that bad unless you get medical help.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! I tried to emphasize the respect that Astarion holds for Tav while he has sex with her; as I tried to keep everything as enthusiastic as possible, considering the involvement of aphrodisiacs.

[dracobrooklyn]

Durge x Reader Part 1

When you really like the design of the Cannon DragonBorn and his voice is like butter making you melt. I was sad you can't romance him and your the playable character instead. So Here I am going to write Headcannons of what if he was a romanceable NPC that was in your party. These are my thoughts taking bits and pieces from the Cannon and putting my thoughts and ideas into Durge.

|| MDNI || 18+ this will contain Themes of Language, Violence, and of course Sexual Content. DO NOT READ!!

Cannon!Durge x Tav!Fem!Reader

This will be in a Fem!Reader POV!!

Word count: 1.44K

Part 1: Meeting Durge

Durge is a White Dragonborn that is a Storm Sorcerer. Literally born from the blood of Bhaal to be the perfect monster for his destruction on the world. Though... he does not remember. After being taken by the Mindflayers. He does not remember anything before he was a prisoner. The Ship Crashing, his head spinning with so many thoughts. He only remembers his name and that he can cast magic thankfully. But everything else? He's lost. Of course You Find him being attacked by a group of Goblins, coming to his aid, to make sure he is okay. Of course he's hesitant, but he thanks you for your help. You of course ask him his name, Durge. A Strange name but it's his, nothing with it. He would ask if you know where they are, and of course replying that you weren't sure yourself, being in the ship and all, you were snatched away by the mindflayers as well. A little frustrated not sure what to do, he gives you his thanks and about to leave. Is that such a good idea? To go out alone especially that you saw him get attacked by Goblins? No. You ask him if he wish's to tag along with you and your other party members. Strange bunch... why not? He accepts. After all where was he to go? He has no memories. Everything is dark. And you were all trying to find a way to get this cursed parasite out of your brain... before you did turn into a Mindflayer. Maybe you will be able to help him remember. Durge is a little distant towards your other party members. Wasn't a fan of Astarion, not one bit. The way he acted, the way he talked to you as if you were insignificant. You were very much capable of defending yourself, you saved Durge's life. So he always gives the pale elf a glare. Shadowheart he does not mind but her pride and stubbornness can be a little annoying. She at least gives you a little respect when she talks to you.

As your party grow, you get to try to help Durge try to get some sort of sense with his memories. But nothing seems to happen. He can only think about maybe... maybe he had a family or friends waiting for him to come home, or perhaps he has a lover, or maybe something else. You definitely joked to him he could be a prince that was out hunting, he did find the joke amusing though. It was good to have some sort of conversation and company. Being alone with no memories was a little sad and lonely at times.

You were having a hard time sleeping. Specifically with the damn worm wiggling into your brain. So you noticed Durge was having a hard time sleeping as well, tossing and turning into his tent, into his sleeping area. You see how his lips curl back almost in a growl showing his teeth, his eye crest furrowing either in pain or anger as his claws gripped onto the blankets, how he curls up in a fetal position. Is he okay? You quickly went to him to wake him up, and you do. He grabs your arm and pins you down onto the ground his clawed hand wrapped around your neck growling, glaring his red blood eyes into your eyes. He pauses and noticed it's you. He get's off you quickly, not wearing a shirt and only trousers in his sleep wear as Durge feels so awful. He almost hurt you. He apologizes and ask's if you were alright, of course you were shaken but told him you were okay. Everything was alright.

Those dreams... nothing but blood... screaming... yells of anguish. Remembering his dream too well, just looking down at his hands, remembering in his dream he had blood on them. Once you did go back to sleep at your bed roll and he looked at you... what if your blood was on his hands... they started to shake. Fear escaped him, he didn't go back to sleep that night. He just laid in his bed roll in his tent frightened he could have killed you.

He felt awful the next day and wanted to apologize. Durge said if there was anything to he could do for your forgiveness. Of course, you were kind to him. "You had a nightmare Durge, perhaps they were memories, not good memories but maybe your memories are trying to come back to you, and it was too much." You could see the look on his face, he looked a little... worried. You asked if Durge wanted to talk about it. He only shook his head and said "No I... I like to hope they are nightmares, and not memories."

He very much appreciated your kindness, he really was happy that you didn't treat him any different from your party members. When he was distant, it was him just thinking, trying to piece together his "Dream" he had last night. You gave him a journal that you bought from the Druids grove, for Durge to write his dreams so maybe he can go back to the, as you smile at him and say "If you need company tonight... if you have a nightmare, don't hesitate to wake me okay?" And Right there... that's when the feelings start to blossom. The gift of the Journal. The Way how you were comforting on his darkest moments, trying to remember his past. The Way you treated him normally. You invited Durge to the fire to talk with the others, bring him into the conversation, telling you about your past. Where you lived growing up. Durge is very envious of your memories. That you have them, though he out right does not tell you. He wants to know his past so much, who the fuck he is!? It leaves him in a bad mood leaving you with the others at the campfire and heading into his tent for the night. Going to sleep a little mad... but also sad at the same time. Maybe he had a group of friends that miss him dearly. That laughed with him like a bunch of chumps. He wasn't sure.

[astarionspointyears]

Dawn broke over the horizon, filling the camp with a deep golden light. Tav groaned and rolled over, threw her arm over her eyes to block the light and tried to go back to sleep. It was too early and her brain was not ready to function yet. Her head throbbed as if being crushed by an ogre, her muscles so sore she wasn’t sure if she could even stand. Despite the whole ordeal yesterday Tav had barely slept. Sleeping outside under the stars might be someone’s idea of fun, but it certainly wasn’t hers. Tav liked her bed with soft sheets and comfortable pillows. Not a thin sleeping bag on the rocky ground with bugs flying in her ears.

Tav drifted in and out of sleep for a while until she couldn’t ignore the ache in her stomach any longer. Her head protested heavily as she forced her eyes open and sat up. The others were already awake, it seemed. Shadowheart was bent over the fire stirring something in a large pot as Lae’zel sat nearby skinning an animal, possibly a rabbit. Tav gathered her bathing supplies and started towards the nearby river.

“We cannot afford any more lie-ins,” Lae’zel said as she passed. “If we are going to survive this, we need to-”

“Spare me the lecture,” Tav said. “I know. I’ll be back shortly and we can all discuss the next steps.”

Lae’zel didn’t seem to like this answer, but didn’t protest any further. Tav exchanged a brief glance with Shadowheart and then proceeded towards the river. The trees were sparse, and Tav could see the water from quite far away. She spotted the silver haired elf, whose name escaped her, sitting on a rock in a patch of sunlight. They had met him near the crash site, apparently in the same predicament as the rest of them. Tav trusted him about as much as a goblin on trial, which she thought was justified given the fact he had tried to kill her yesterday. There was strength in numbers though, so they agreed to travel together.

Tav cleared her throat as she approached him. She wasn’t in the mood for conversation but she didn’t want to startle him either, given his proclivity for stabbing. “Good morning,” she muttered.

The elf glanced up at her, his mouth curling up into a half smile. “Morning,” he said. His voice was rich like expensive chocolate.

Tav returned the smile and moved to a clear spot several yards away from him. She sat down next to the water and stripped off her shirt to review the various injuries she had obtained in the crash. The left side of her body seemed to have taken it the worst, and a rather nasty bruise was spreading over her ribs. If they were going to get through this nightmare they would need to make salves and various other healing potions. Tav made a mental note to speak to her companions about it. There was so much they needed to prepare, so much they needed to do if they were going to get out of this alive. Tav felt bile rise up in her throat when she thought about what lay ahead of her. As far as anyone knew, a mindflayer parasite in your head meant certain death and nobody knew how or why they had not yet transformed. She swallowed hard and hoped Lae’zel’s crèche would agree to help them and they could be rid of the tadpoles quickly.

Tav knelt beside the stream and dipped her face in the water. She would have preferred a hot bath, but at this point she had to take what she could get. As she scrubbed the layers of dirt and blood off her skin her eyes wandered over to the silver haired elf. There was something ethereal about him that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. He was tall and slender, with an angular face and sharp jawline. His porcelain skin seemed to glow in the sunlight, his silver hair curled perfectly around his ears. He was, without a doubt, the most beautiful person Tav had seen in a while. Maybe ever.

“I am quite beautiful, aren’t I?”

His voice startled Tav from her thoughts, and she realized she’d been staring. She quickly averted her eyes.

“What?”

“You think I’m beautiful,” he said.

Tav proceeded to wet her hair and lathered up with soap. “What makes you say that?”

“It’s all right, darling,” his voice simultaneously deepened and softened. Tav had to strain to hear him over the rush of water. “You’re hardly the first person to think so. I probably am the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen.”

Tav rolled her eyes. She refused to look at him as she brushed the tangles from her hair. “You’re full of yourself, aren’t you?”

He chuckled, stood up, and walked over to her. Tav couldn’t help but notice the way his wet shirt clung to him, outlining the muscles on his stomach and chest. She forced herself to look somewhere else. Anywhere else.

“You’ve forgotten about the tadpoles,” he said, smirking like the cat that caught the canary. “Anyone can hear your thoughts if you’re not careful. Yours were quite loud, just now.”

Tav huffed out a breath and immediately closed her mind, shutting out anyone who might be listening. Of course she had learned of the tadpole’s psychic powers yesterday, but in the haze of shock and exhaustion she had forgotten. Tav splashed water on her face to hide the flush that crept up her neck. She was not about to allow this elf to gain the upper hand just because he was handsome.

“Did you also hear how I want to smack that smirk off your face?” Tav muttered.

He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “You’re a feisty little thing, aren’t you?”

“You have no idea.”

Tav stood up to dry herself off and found herself face to face with him. There was something about his red hued eyes that set her on edge. Everything about him - his smile, purposely messy hair, even his outfit - felt almost too perfect. It felt like he had been created simply to get under her skin, disarm her and make her vulnerable. Under his gaze, Tav felt like a mouse about to be pounced on. Despite all of this though, Tav thought she saw a trace of trepidation in his face. He wanted to appear aloof and uncaring, but something told her he was just as lost and scared as she was.

“Do you need something?” Tav asked after a long moment.

“A stiff drink, to start,” he said. “But more than that, I need allies. I need to know that we can work together to solve this tadpole problem. I need to know I can trust you.”

Tav shrugged. “Trust might be asking a lot, but I don’t think we have much of a choice. All of us have this…condition. The way I see it, we either team up or we die. Or transform, I suppose.”

The elf seemed to shudder at the mention of ceremophosis. “Perish the thought. I’d hate to deprive the world of this beautiful body.”

“I don’t know,” Tav said. “Tentacles might look good on you. It would certainly add a layer of intrigue.”

He gave a halfhearted laugh and his cocky smirk changed into a softer, almost genuine smile. He took a step towards her and leaned in. Tav’s heart started to beat faster and a shiver ran up her spine as he reached into her hair and untangled a dead leaf, which he pulled out and tossed aside. Her skin tingled where his fingers brushed against her.

“Thanks,” Tav said, hoping he didn’t notice the change in her breathing.

“Astarion.”

“Sorry?”

“My name is Astarion.” His cocky smirk returned. “I have a feeling you won’t be forgetting it again.”

Tav rolled her eyes. “I suppose I won’t, but probably not for the reasons you think.”

“As long you remember, darling, the reasons are irrelevant,” Astarion said with a slight bow of his head. “I’ll see you back at camp, then.”

Tav nodded and watched Astarion as he turned to walk away. She wondered about his motives, what made him so confident, yet so fragile? What secret was he hiding, and did it make him a good (maybe dangerous) ally, or a liability? There was no way to know for sure.

Whatever the case was, Tav knew one thing about Astarion - he was going to be a big problem.

[precious-little-bhaalbabe]

You called us to send asks about mindflayer karlach 🙇 I am here to learn. What are your Thoughts

I’M SO GLAD YOU ASKED

Basically most of my points have been made before in the tags of other posts but she deserves her own post.

The jist of it is explained in this post and the accompanying image

Basically, Illithid transformation does destroy the host. Our Karlach isn’t Mindflayer Karlach, it’s her tadpole all grown up. Having absorbed all her memories. Because of this, lots of people say that the Mindflayer ending is Karlach’s bad ending. Personally, I don’t see it as her best ending (going back to Avernus and getting her heart repaired is her best ending for me) but I don’t see it as any worse than her ending where she chooses to burn up on the docks surrounded by her friends as a free woman. In both endings (burning up and Illithid transformation), Karlach dies.

But for her Illithid transformation, Karlach’s little tadpole stowaway takes over, consuming her body and her memories. With no Elder Brain influence (given she’s FIGHTING the Absolute) and only Karlach’s memories to build herself off of, the Tadpole decides to make herself a 1:1 copy of Karlach. She retains her name and maintains Karlach’s relationships and does what Karlach would have wanted (at least what she interprets as Karlach wanting, given she has access to all her memories).

I’ve seen people mad about this, how Mindflayer Karlach isn’t Karlach, Illithid transformation kills the host and this mindflayer is just pretending to be Karlach to manipulate us. And I don’t think that’s quite true. Cause without an Elder Brain to serve, what purpose would manipulating the party have? The tadpoles only memories are Karlach’s. Mindflayer Karlach isn’t a sort of devious trick and lie, it’s more of an “imitation is the sincerest form of flattery” situation.

My belief is that as Squidlach continues to live her life, absorbing the memories of the terminally ill she helps leave the world on their own terms, and having her own experiences as a mindflayer and an individual, she will come to view herself less as BEING Karlach and more as FROM Karlach. Viewing Karlach as a predecessor or even a mother. Thus “Karlach III” (she can’t be “Karlach Jr.” because OUR Karlach is already Karlach Jr. if you visit her parents grave in Baldur’s Gate, you see her mother was also named Karlach.)

My hopes and dreams for Karlach III is she gets to meet Omeluum and he can help her figure out what it is to be A Mindflayer but also they can live healthily with their own kind without an Elder Brain, free to pursue their own goals and be good people. And also he can teach her how to wear normal clothes so she can get out of the awful Illithid fleshy horror outfit the transformation left her in. She deserves to wear normal clothes. It’ll help her be less scary.

Maybe the two of them together can start a little colony of peaceful mindflayers together! Not as like, a couple (Omeluum is already clearly married. To Blurg) but like. Idk. Maybe they find a way to grow new mindflayers without being parasitic. Or they take in other runaways from other Elder Brains like Omeluum and the Emperor. Or maybe idk some people are like Karlach and want to choose to give rise to an Illithid for whatever reason. I just think it would be neat.

And even if they don’t, I think it would still be good for the two of them to be friends. It’ll really help Karlach III come into herself as her own person, as a successor to Karlach rather than a copy. It’ll be good for her.

[cinderminx]

The light shines into his eyes and as he drowsily comes to he realizes he's been laying in a sunbeam. He bolts upright to check his skin but he's completely unharmed. Looking around, he realizes He's in a grove of trees, laying in tall grass decorated with purple flowers. A slight breeze moves the leaves and he stops to listen to the birds chirping above him. “Gods, I haven't heard that in 200 years” How is he not being burned to ash? How did he make it out of the crash? A surge of pain rushes through his head and it all comes back to him, the parasite. Mind flayers, of course that would happen to him. He gets to his feet and looks around to get his bearings, but this place is completely unfamiliar. “Where in the hells have I ended up? What the fuck is going on?”

To the west he hears footsteps and lowered voices, sounds like two people are walking close by. He crouches down into the tall grass and edges towards the trees. An elf with long red hair and facial tattoos comes into view, a druid by the awful way she dresses. Next to her a half elf with an annoyed look is dressed in armor, her gear looks familiar but he can't quite place it. He almost lets them pass when a wild boar runs by, giving his position away. Time to act.

“Hello? A little help? I have one of those brain things cornered.”

The druid takes one look at him and he knows she doesn't buy this charade for a second.

“You look perfectly capable, you kill it.” She rolls her eyes but still walks towards him.

He grabs her and pulls her to the ground “ Don't struggle, wouldn't want to hurt that pretty neck of yours. I saw you on that damned ship.”

The druid headbutts him and rolls effortlessly to her feet, grabbing a small dagger at her waist. Shit she's good.

“ I'm sorry! I just…aaagghh!” His mind somehow connects to the stranger, showing her dark alleys in the city, a camp, a child's hand in his, Sebastian’s lips, searing pain on his back. He looks up at her and he knows; she saw all of this. “What did you do to me?”

She puts the knife back in her belt which her companion does not seem to approve of and puts her hands out, a truce. “I was on that ship too, the tadpole.. I think it connects us. I'm Tav, this is Shadowheart. We're going to look for a healer, maybe we should all stick together and figure this out .”

This total stranger is trusting him and he didn't even try to charm her, he must have hit his head harder than he thought. “I'm Astarion, I was going to go it alone but no harm in joining the herd. Lead on.”

As he goes to follow Tav up the trail, he realizes he's standing in full sunlight. To his left a sparkling blue stream shimmers in the daylight. Flowers surrounded by butterflies are bursting with colors he almost forgot existed. A breeze teases through his white curls and he wonders if he could hide here forever from his master. Nonsense, he runs to catch up with his new companions.

A large piece of the ship blocks the path forward, as they step over debris and small fires looking for anything useful for their journey a mindflayer comes into view. It lays in the ruins of its once massive ship, a gash in its belly- the look on its face shows that it knows its near death. He looks down at it with disgust but as he does, the orange eyes lock with his and try to get him to help it. Help it? Not in this life, even if he can walk in the sun. Tav steps in front of him and smashes its head in with her boot. Who is this woman and why is he impressed?

All of this sunlight and walking is exhausting. His mind wanders to thoughts of a goblet of wine or maybe something more sanguine. Can he trust these new companions with the truth of his nature? Best to play it safe for now but how much did Tav see when her mind locked with his?

He emerges from his thoughts and realizes Tav is about to put her hand in a malfunctioning portal. The purple sparks go up her arm and she lets out a yelp. “Well what did you think was going to-”

A hand juts out of the rocks and swirling purple sparks and a man's voice echoes faintly through the portal.

“Hello, anyone care to give me a hand?” The hand politely asks.

Tav looks at him for approval, like he cares what happens to this mystery hand. She grabs on with two hands and braces a foot on the cliff side. Out tumbles a wizard in a long purple robe, a strange marking on his chest is barely visable. “Oh Gods I can't stand wizards, I'm surprised this one didn't blow up.” he muses to himself.

“Hello! I am Gale of Waterdeep. Thank you so much for my rescue. I was just experimenting with a new spell when Tara, that's my cat, opened up a portal and blah blah blah..” He does not care.

“Can we go camp somewhere now? I'm positively exhausted!” Astarion complains.

“I suppose we should figure that out while we still have day light. Are you any good with a bow Astarion? We'll need something for dinner.” Tav hands him a small crossbow and he can't help but think she's teasing him.

“Of course I am, give me that.” The audacity of this druid.

[incineratedtoothpickgamer]

Okay so canonically Durge was stabbed in the head and has Mega Brain Damage right? That causes all sorts of problems irl. Now I'm stuck imagining how much DOES NOT change for a redemption Durge.

I got curious and google is free. And the symptom for moderate to severe brain damage really make me think well no wonder no one in your party suspected anything was wrong. You were covered in your own blood, likely had noticeable symptoms of a cuncussion...until someone gets BRUTALLY MURDERED most of your oddities line up with brain damage symptoms. Add the mindflayer parasite in and no one really knowing how they work, especially since they're modified....yeah now I see why everyone is shook even if you tell them "hey I have these urges".

[wolfylady]

Accursed Urge

I could not sleep until I tried my hands at Durgetash. Their first interaction had so much tension I couldn't stop thinking about it! So here it is.

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Enver Gortash X Gender neutral Dark Urge/Durge

Word Count: 2,568 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The opulent hall, adorned with ornate gold and weathered stone, glimmered in luminous hues of gold as the stained glass filtered streams of light. Yet, the resplendent glow illuminated only one figure. His attire, adorned with bronze accents, shimmered against his sun-kissed complexion, further deepened by his dark wardrobe.

“Ah! Welcome!” His voice boomed, rattling around Durge’s mind, conjuring a feeling of familiarity that tugged at their heart.

“Gortash!” Karlach snarled. She sounded like a wild beast at the end of her chains, half-crazed by rage. It would take only Durge’s allowance for her to burn everything to the ground; even without it, she might still snap should Gortash say the right or wrong thing. “This is it! I can practically taste his blood from here!”

“Karlach!” Wyll urged, voicing his concern for his father. But Karlach looked wild, so ready to strike that Durge doubted she heard him.

Gently brushing hands with Karlach was like placing their hand within a roaring fire. But Durge swallowed the yelp, using the slight contact to grab Karlach’s attention. Meeting the flames that burned within her gaze, Durge urged softly in what they hoped was a calming tone. “I couldn’t bear to see Gortash get his hands on you again,” they squeezed Karlach’s hand. “Let’s wait for a more opportune moment.”

Karlach sank with a deep breath, her skin cooling and the flames returning to a more comfortable heat. “I hate how you can do that.” She whispered in defeat, squeezing Durge’s hand and letting go with a grimace upon seeing the burn that now resided there.

Stepping closer, Durge’s mind churned, trying to decipher the sudden swell of emotion this man’s face conjured and how their body vibrated with anticipation.

For a moment, Durge regarded Duke Ulder Ravengard, but his mind was an empty husk, a pawn to the absolute awaiting orders.

“My lord, it seems your guest has arrived.” Ulder bowed their head to Gortash, Wyll tensing.

“Exquisite timing, as always.” Cerulean blue eyes bore into Durge’s red glare, a smile more tender than it should for a stranger, pulling on his lips.

“Lord Enver Gortash at your service.” He spoke of Kethric Thorms’ downfall, and a sadistic satisfaction rose up at the memory of the man’s death. But then he looked at Karlach, and Durge felt rage not only for Karlach but also for how the word darling rolled off Gortash’s tongue. It felt almost like jealousy.

Then he spoke of the netherstones and the elder brain; as crucial as that was, Durge was fixated on his mouth. A tirade of emotions swept through Durge, their fingertips tingling, begging to touch the enigmatic lordling.

And then, before they could stop, words came tumbling out, sounding so much more confused and lost than Durge ever wanted to be known. So much of themselves was missing, and despite fighting the dark urge as best they could, Durge desperately wanted to know themselves and the life they’d lived. “Do you know me?”

“Of course, we were partners,” There was a flash of heat not only in Gortash’s blue eyes but also in Durge’s stomach. “You, I, and Kethric were in on this plan from the start.”

For some reason, Durge felt disappointed.

“I seem to have trusted you once before, and it ruined me.” Durge leered through clenched teeth. They were a Bhaalspaw with a fractured mind and no true memories of who they had been before they awoke on the Mindflayer ship and began the journey to rid themselves of the parasitic tadpole that chewed through their hole-riddled mind and uncover who had tried to kill them. Durge suspected that Gortash may be the key to knowing who they had been before they ended up on that ship. A flicker of a memory fluttered through their tattered and hole-addled mind. There was something painfully familiar about the phony lordling before them, their heart fluttering and fingertips aching to reach out, to touch or maime, Durge didn’t know. They had already felled Myrkull’s chosen, and even though Kethric had recognized Durge, Durge had not been overcome with these odd emotions; they hadn’t even felt any familiarity with the now-dead general of Myrkull’s undead army.

“Together, we can restore authority over the elder brain.” Gortash grinned. “I am changed,” Durge sneered. “I have no interest in whatever plan we concocted; I wish only to avenge myself and be rid of this accursed tadpole.”

“Then our goals are still aligned!” He grinned. “Ousting Orin and helping you reclaim your birthright would be my greatest honor,” Gortash spoke in a hush. Still, his tone was sincere before shifting into a business-like manner. “With Kethric gone, Orin proves treacherous. She wants the netherstones for herself.” He sneered. “She only cares about blood.” Gortash gestured to them. “And your blood and mine are of particular interest to her.”

Durge clenched their fists. They had suspected as much. If they were a Blaahspawn, and Orin worshiped Blaah, the god of murder, it wouldn’t be a stretch to assume it was Orin who had tried to kill them.

“I cannot trust easily,” Durge spoke, the dark urge subdued but not extinguished. “But if your words hold truth, and if ousting Orin aligns with my path to vengeance, then we may have an alliance of necessity.”

“Understandable.” Gortash grinned. “Why don’t we step into my office? There are matters I would like to discuss without... extra ears.” His eyes took in Durge’s company.

It was an eclectic assortment of victims of the tadpole, each with a tragic past and circumstance to overcome. Karlach, Astarion, Shadowheart, Wyll, Gale, and Halsin: the only one without a tadpole. Though Durge had no memory of who they had been before the tadpole, they were lucky and happy to have their company. Particularly Astarion and Halsin.

“Hardly.” Astarion scoffed. The vampire’s gaze hardened upon Gortash. His suspicion seeped from his crimson gaze, sticking in the tension-filled room. “Not a chance, you scheming–”

But Durge was already following Gortash.

“Durge.” He croaked out, clutching Durge’s arm in an uncharacteristic display of desperation. It felt too much like handing Durge over to the wolves and hoping they’d return.

But then Durge met Astarion’s gaze, not wavering or holding fear within those crimson eyes. “Just a moment, Astarion.” Durge soothed, bringing their free hand to gently cradle Astarion’s cheek, thumb smoothing away the distress that danced in Astarion’s icy red gaze. Durge looked deeply into Astarion’s eyes, that gentle smile settling Astarion’s troubled heart. A reassurance. A promise. “I’ll be right back.”

Gortash turned around with his smooth words to say, “Hurry along, I won’t keep you too long,” already on the move, with Astarion growling like a starved dog. However, Astarion was halted as Durge gently brushed their lips against his hand, a sign of tenderness that sent shivers down Astarion’s spine and ignited something protective within him. Durge was far too important to risk.

“You had better be.” He warned lowly to Gortash’s retreating form, glaring at the man’s back before turning his eyes back to Durge, dropping his voice to a mere whisper for Durge alone. “Stay sharp. We’ve fought too hard to be taken out now.” Durge smiled before looking up at Halsin and offering him a reassuring squeeze of his hand as they passed.

When the pair reached Gortash’s office, a surprisingly humble room for such an extravagantly dressed man, Durge felt their chest constricting, an unnatural tightness that no measure of strength or spell could loosen. Durge could hear the beating of their own heart resonating loudly within the walls of their skull. Their head pounded, filling with disjointed fragments of memories that danced teasingly out of reach. Something deep within stirred, reacting to Gortash’s presence as he shut the heavy wooden door behind them.

“Relax,” Gortash turned and offered a tight smile, though his usual charm was not fully present in his deep voice. He approached the window, hands on the sill as he glanced out over the land stretched beyond.

Durge bites their lip, tasting the iron flavor of blood. Even without a memory of who they used to be, Durge’s instincts and gut intuition remained a formidable part of their psyche, and they didn’t trust Gortash. And yet... something lingered at the back of their mind, a fond remembrance and gentle whispers of warmth and care they couldn’t comprehend.

“You remember us, don’t you?” Gortash asked softly. It felt more a challenge than a question, and Durge clenched their hands. A flood of disjointed memories welled within Durge. Though some were more distinct than others, the feelings of warmth, confusion, and sorrow mingled together to create a cacophony of dissonance in Durge’s mind.

“Gortash,” Durge’s voice hardened as they squared their shoulders, maintaining the distance between them. The word sat heavily on their tongue, carrying a bitterness they could not place. “If this is what you wanted to speak about, then this conversation is over.”

There was a cold flash of emptiness in Gortash’s eyes that, for a split second, caused Durge’s heart to clench uncomfortably. And then it was gone, replaced by that charming mask once again. But that fleeting emotion shook Durge.

Durge paused. “Were-” they struggled to form the words. “Were we in love?” Durge’s question hung in the air between them, shrouding the room in tension.

Gortash drew in a shaky breath, folding his arms across his chest as he closed his eyes momentarily, opening them again to pin Durge with a heavy gaze. His usual charm disappeared, revealing a vulnerable man who clearly hadn’t expected such a question.

“I like to think so,” he answered softly, without the usual veneer of confidence and charisma he wore. His gaze dropped to his boots, “But when I lost you, I thought my heart would stop beating too.” He confessed, his eyes not daring to meet Durge’s. Something clenched inside Durge; it was sorrow and regret, but they weren’t their own. A long lost feeling that buried deep within, so foreign yet so familiar.

Following his confession, Durge remained rooted to the spot, struggling to process Gortash’s confession. After a while, Gortash stood and walked toward Durge, stopping in front of them with barely a hand’s breadth between them.

Gortash broke the distance and whispered in a husky voice full of desperate hope and anguish. “I’ve missed you.” His fingers hesitated near Durge’s face before gently grazing their skin.

His act was so swift and spontaneous that Durge barely registered it until it was happening. Gortash had closed the distance and pressed his lips against Durge’s, pulling them closer, crushing his body against theirs. His fingers tangled in their hair.

Lost in the throes of memories and connection, Durge surrendered and responded to the kiss as Durge’s tattered memory sought something familiar in Gortash’s taste and warmth; they could almost feel their old selves tingle in their veins. A lingering sweetness fluttered within their chest. Overwhelmed by their mutual need and yearning, they met him halfway, their guarded suspicion replaced by growing warmth.

However, as quickly as the memories welled up, Durge cut off the kiss. Stunned and overwhelmed, they stepped back, attempting to catch their breath and clear the mental fog clouding their rationality.

“Whatever we had is over, Gortash,” Durge spat, their voice catching slightly in their throat as they grappled with their feelings. Durge wiped their mouth with the back of their hand as if to rid the lingering taste of Gortash. “We’re nothing.”

Gortash regarded Durge, a shimmer of heartache crossing his handsome face before he quickly wiped it away with a sardonic smile. Eyes darkening. “That is where you are mistaken, darling,” Gortash moved towards Durge, predatory. Durge could feel his voice vibrate against their skin, each word stinging. “We were never over.” Gortash seemed to radiate certainty; an eerie air of resolve clung to him as though he intended to claim Durge back. “I have always cherished you, Durge, even if you don’t remember your body does,” Gortash’s tone was painfully sincere, which made Durge wince internally. His words seemed to open up a wound in Durge, yet their body felt the flicker of emotions stirring beneath their skin. The flame that once danced in Gortash’s eyes burned brighter as his hands softly cradled Durge’s face, “And I have every intention of reminding you, love.” His fingers slid over their cheek, pushing away a stray lock of hair before sliding around Durge’s neck. His thumb brushed over their lips, and Durge almost felt something soften in their chest.

“But-”

“I’m patient, my dear. I’ll wait.” He said softly, leaning closer to kiss their forehead softly.

“I hate you.” Durge rasped out. Their fingers tightened into fists at their side, rage coloring their voice.

“You love me,” Gortash said simply. There was a challenge in his eyes, an intensity Durge had missed.

“I…” Durge stuttered, faltering under his intense gaze.

“That’s right, you do. And you can’t deny that.” He murmured against Durge’s ear, a note of certainty weaving into his voice.

Durge swallowed hard. “Even if I did, I am no longer the person I once was. We can’t go back, Gortash.” Durge spat, tugging away from his grip. They stood, both figuratively and literally, at odds with each other.

He was silent for a moment, eyes lingering on Durge. A sigh slipped from his lips before he said, “Even if that is the case, it changes nothing. My feelings haven’t altered. We will sort this out together, just like old times.” Gortash said resolutely, turning his back towards them as if to shut out the hurt he had been unable to hide.

He was immovable, like a sturdy rock standing against a violent sea. Durge tried to speak, to push away his claim. To tell him to get over whatever phantom was stuck in his head because they were not the person he claimed to remember.

But as Durge opened their mouth to speak, Gortash suddenly closed the distance, clasping Durge’s chin firmly, drawing them to look into his cerulean blue eyes. “We’ll have all the time in the world once you get the last netherstone from Orin.”

In that moment, Durge knew the inevitable truth. Despite all that they wished for, despite all the confusion, there was an undeniable connection. It was raw and turbulent, much like the man who held their gaze, not flinching, not yielding.

Durge pulled back sharply from his grip. Their breath hitched as a strange pain gripped their chest. “We’ll see about that, Gortash.” They bit out.

There was no compromise with Gortash. He had his own peculiar way of stirring the still waters, making the familiar unfathomable, pulling out an obscure string of feelings that Durge had so stubbornly kept hidden beneath a carefully maintained façade of stoicism.

Gortash chuckled dryly, turning his back towards Durge, crossing his hands behind him as he looked out the window. He was content with his ultimatum.

And in that moment, despite their fragmented and distorted memory, Durge was acutely aware of the storm that awaited them in their shared future. For better or for worse, Durge was aware that Gortash had set them on a path, a storm that neither could escape.

With that, Durge slipped out the door, leaving Gortash behind. Their body tingled from the brief yet intimate encounter, leaving their mind spinning.

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

wolfYLady: I posted this on my other accounts and got some request to continue so I have another chapter up with another on the way!

Please be kind and leave a comment, I would love to know what you think of my angsty work!

Part 2 > Part 3 (Smut)>

[jessiemeows]

Lost and Found

Prolouge꞉ Straight off the Nautiloid

Word Count: 1.1k

Pairing: Spawn Astarion x Durge/Female Tiefling.

Prologue. Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3.

Warnings: 18+, mentions of blood and gore, very fluffy in the beginning.

A/N: Hi! I have the first few chapters already lined up for my long-form fic. This is a slow burn but will pick up very quickly! Basically, the story is how I headcannon how both Astarion and my Durge feel throughout their adventures together. It's a lot of filling in between the main events that happen in the game.

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

It was scorching hot, so unbearably hot. Eris could feel her skin burning under the blazing sun and the sand felt like an open flame to any flesh that was exposed to it. Slowly, she began to sit up. Her head was foggy and she felt an overwhelming amount of dizziness. The tiefling groaned while rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

After a few moments, the tiefling realized that what had just happened on the nautiloid was not a nightmare but real life. Eris was stunned by the mess of things. She remembered taking control of the ship, the dragon, and then the ship crashing. The last thing she recalled was a mind flayer sitting next to her during the crash, and then nothing more. Now, the tiefling found herself alive and well on some beach. Well, as alive as she could be. She still had no idea who she truly was. She had hoped that when she was out of the Hells, she would at least have a single memory. But all she knew was her name and the tadpole that had been launched into her brain.

Eris stood up slowly, feeling the world spin around her, threatening to overwhelm her senses. She surveyed the grim scene before her, “Corpses and a wrecked mindflayer ship. Wonderful,” she muttered bitterly.

As she approached a lifeless body, she let out a heavy sigh. She searched frantically for supplies or a map to guide her through this unfamiliar territory, but her efforts were in vain.

“Well, that was a complete waste of time,” the tiefling said with her voice dripping with annoyance.

As she sat there, staring at the corpse something unexpected began to stir inside her. Her lips slowly curved upwards, forming a faint smile. Quickly realizing she shook her head in disapproval, her once smile disappeared and was replaced by a frown of disgust. The sudden change left her feeling disoriented and her head began to throb. Nausea soon followed, making her feel even worse.

After moments of trying to regain her composure, the tiefling decided that it would be better to distract herself away from the deceased bodies for the time being. 

“Fresh water, there must be some sort of settlement around here,” Eris said as she began walking towards the river, she began grabbing handfuls of water to wash away any grime from her face. The water was cold and refreshing against her hot skin.  Staring into the river now lost in her thoughts she concluded that her best option would be to search for Shadowheart, the half-elf, and the gith. Perhaps they could assist her in locating someone who could remove the parasites from their brains. However, for the time being, she would have to scavenge for anything she could find, attempt to communicate with the deceased if the body wasn't damaged, and look for anyone willing to provide her with assistance.

As Eris resumed her search, she felt the intense urge to harm the women she was looking for. She tried to subdue what was brewing inside her, but suddenly felt a sharp pain in her left wrist, accompanied by a wave of nausea that was ten times worse than before. Her breathing became quickly rapid as she tried to calm herself down, her heartbeat was now uncontrollable and she felt faint. Dark spots began to plague her vision and she threw her hands on her knees trying to stabilize herself.  After a few moments, she regained her composure, took a deep breath, and continued with her search.

----

He was hiding, he had to run, anything to get away from that damned sun. Astarion was cowering into the shadows, after desperately fleeing from the sun’s blistering rays. Confusion had fogged his mind. Had he been lying in the hot sun for hours or days? He didn't incinerate, nor was he in searing pain. It all seemed too strange, and he had no idea what was happening.  Memories of being woken up by the woman approaching him on the beach flooded his mind. Her words sounded all jumbled, he could barely decipher what she was saying. Out of fear, he quickly fled from her. His sheer panic ultimately saved his life as the strange creatures from the nautiloid mercilessly attacked and killed the woman.

As the elf hid among the wreckage of the nautiloid, the brains were now inside stalking about. He was pondering the idea of braving the sunlight once more but those thoughts quickly passed. Suddenly he heard a young woman’s, low, raspy voice across from the nautiloid echoing. Was she using a speak-to-the-dead spell on someone?  This poor, unfortunate young soul was soon going to reach their demise, he didn't even bother to look because he knew it was going the end for her would come quickly. “How dumb could this girl be?” he mused to himself.

A sudden plunk of a bowstring pierced the air interrupting his thoughts. To his surprise, an arrow had been flung straight into one of the brains followed by a loud cry. Astarion quickly moved his head to see what the commotion was and to his astonishment, it was the young woman who was fighting the brains. The beasts used a synaptic discharge on her but their aim must have been off due to injury, leaving her with a large blistering wound on her leg. The tiefling woman was now limping towards the brains, she drew her bow and let loose another arrow, and one of the brains dropped dead. She swiftly sprinted towards the other brain dodging its attack and made a lethal blow to it with her scimitar. 

“Hells,” he thought to himself. This is the very same woman that he had seen darting around on the nautiloid while he was trapped inside that forsaken pod. Why was she now killing them when Astarion could have sworn she had been allied with one before the ship crashed? For a moment he thought this couldn't be her but no doubt it was. It was the same tiefling with luscious long black curls pulled back into a ponytail, clad in a sleeveless purple breastplate that showcased the familiar tattoos peeking out from beneath her wrist wrappings.

As he watched her, he couldn’t help but notice how breathtakingly beautiful she was. “A pretty little thing,” he mused to himself. Quickly snapping himself out of his daze and realized he needed a plan. It dawned on him that he could potentially coax information out of her, especially now that she was weakened., it would be easier for him to strike. He had to act quickly, so, he braced himself for the blazing sun and sprinted his way up a path. Filled with conjecture about his next move, he observed the young tiefling limping towards the river.

[erose-this-name]

Fantasy """races"""

We should stop calling fantasy races that. Normalize calling them "species" or "kinds" or "kin", or just anything other than "race".

A "race" is a matter of non-meaningful differences like skincolor and maybe average penis length. There is no evidence that different races are more intelligent etc which can't be explained by differences in opportunity or culture.

A """race""" is not living four times as long, and also they can read people's minds, and they are an anthropomorphic cat, and get +1 to DC saving throws against fire because why not, and have completely different origins to other """races""", also they're genetically predisposed to mindless lawful neutral rampages. That's something else.

High elves and dark elves and wood elves could probably be considered races of each other (if all any stat differences are due to culture or magic, not blood). But not in relation to humans.

I'm just saying; when Tolkien established the concept of fantasy races the word "race" meant something very different than it does now. Not to accuse Tolkien of anything, I have no idea what his stance on that matter was, but still.

Having an entire intelligent species that is inherently evil is one thing, but calling that a """race""", and especially if it gets used as a metaphor for actual races or racism, is another entirely.

The metaphor doesn't work because in real life all races are the same in ability (except for shit like +1 to milk digestion or -15 to not combusting in the sun like a vampire).

But racists don't know that or choose not to, they believe some races are better than others and there's a genocide-or-be-replaced situation when there just isn't.

Racists often hurt their own race if it means hurting a different race because they believe it's that or their race will cease to exist, like how you might sacrifice a bunch of Gondorians to defeat Mordor, but since that isn't going to happen in real life they are actually just hurting themselves and others for no reason.

The irrationality of racism is crucial for all allegories of it because it's more likely to convince evil people to not be racist than the moral argument.

If in your setting """races""" are as different as they often are in fantasy, you have created a world where replacement theory can actually happen and where there could be some strictly practical arguments for racist policies like paternalism or even genocide which aren't completely imaginary.

Speciesism is also an interesting and valuable concept to explore, since unlike racism it may be practical but still unmoral (being distrusting of or genociding Tolkien or 40k orcs is still genocide but, like, they're orcs. Mindflayers even more so, they can literally only exist by parasitizing and torturing other intelligent species, it's the lesser of two evils).

But sometimes speciesism might not be practical either. There is never a reason to discriminate against hobbits, they're just perfect little guys. They just wanna hang out and maybe sell cheap produce, without them the price of turnips will skyrocket!

But speciesism should definitely be kept separate from race.

The words we use change how we think to some extent. Especially when in so many settings the "human" ""race"" is invariably Just White People™, then people will start thinking of all non-white races with the same brain pathways we use to conceptualize Orcs and Klingons. They become part of the same "other" as POC, which probably isn't going to improve the othering situation.

I've seen friends of mine (not racists) slip up and say "Humans" when they actually just mean "Europeans" in the context of talking about actual IRL history which is a mistake writers should probably stop priming our brains to make.

Could you imagine if all our crime media did the same thing and made people associate criminals with people of color??? oh wait

[sankttealeaf]

thinking about rue and gortash reuniting. (may or may not be writing up future scenes when that happens (i am a chaotic writer nothing i do is in order))

torn between gortash going back to how he acted with rue earlier on in their alliance - waiting for her to approach him. feral cat method. vs gortash taking what he wants because he is not letting her slip from his grasp again. he'll destroy everything around her if it means she understands her part in this plan and they can go back to how things were

both thoughts coexist and i think its soooo fun. what he wants vs what he should do. the gortash she knows vs the front he puts on to the public

theres a small part of him that will put her in a room and bring in any method he can think of to get her mind back to how it once was. change is inevitable but not for him or his friend.

hes making me lose my miiiiiind im wiggling in his brain like a mindflayer parasite right now

him admitting she was dead is one thing but now shes back and here and with him but yet everything is so different? he cant tell himself she's dead when shes standing in front of him!!!

[bloodrevel]

~ Meet my Tav ~

Name: Senna Holimion  Nicknames: Sen, Cub Age: 30 Gender: Female (She/Her) Race: Wood Half Elf Class: Druid - Ranger - Cleric of Mielikki Subclass: Circle of the Moon - Beastmaster - Nature Animal companion: Wolf Birthplace: Unknown Grew up: Cloakwood Occupation: Ranger, druid Alignment: Chaotic Good

Backstory

Senna Holimion (aka Sen) was found in the woods as a babe by a reclusive, retired wood elf ranger-druid, Caelen Holimion, and his three wolf companions. Caelen took Senna in and raised her, teaching her archery, hunting, foraging, druidic magic, and how to wild shape into a wolf, as well as instilling in her a reverence for nature and the goddess Mielikki. Like the wolves she was raised with, Senna is swift, agile, a keen strategist and hunter, playful, loyal, fiercely protective of her pack and the forests she calls home, extremely wary of people she doesn’t know, prone to growling and snapping when scared, and has abysmal table manners.

Four years prior to being abducted by mindflayers, Caelen, Senna and the wolf pack were hunting in the woods as usual when they were set upon by a slavering wyvern. They fought as hard as they could to protect each other, and narrowly managed to take down the wyvern and survive, but they were all injured in the battle. Senna was the least injured, and tried desperately to heal her father and the wolves using both magic and natural means, but to no avail. Wracked with survivor’s guilt and despair at the loss of her family, Senna left Cloakwood forest for the first time in her life, travelling all over the Sword Coast and taking ranger contracts to get by. She was in the middle of one such contract when she was kidnapped by mindflayers.

Senna is good with animals, nature and magic, but not people, which was never really a problem until she was abruptly kidnapped by mindflayers and had a tadpole inserted into her brain. Now faced with the prospect of travelling with six other survivors of the nautiloid crash, all of whom need the parasites in their heads removed just as she does, Senna feels like a fish out of water - or, more aptly, a wolf out of the forest. Wary of strangers but also naturally inclined toward forming a pack and helping people, Senna hesitantly agrees to travel with the other survivors, but has absolutely no idea how she of all people ends up being appointed leader of the ragtag bunch of misfits (Mielikki preserve them all). She doesn't expect to survive for very long with a mindflayer tadpole stuck in her head, let alone that she'll find lifelong friends among her tadpoled companions, or that when she pulled a certain wizard from a malfunctioning magical portal, she would feel an irresistible pull to him that would change both their lives forever…

her pinterest

[the-dork-urge]

Solace - Gortash X Durge

She couldn't find solace in sleep, not before and certainly not after all they had endured. With the absence of Mindflayers, Elder Brains, and meddling Gods, their lives should have been serene. Yet, there was no rest for the wicked. Memories and guilt plagued their every night, leaving her tossing and turning beside him.

He knew what she had done, what she had been capable of, and what they had been capable of together. The allure of power they once held still lingered. The stains of blood on their hands echoed their ambitions. Together, they had teetered on the brink of domination, annihilation, and the destruction of everything, including their souls. They could never wash it off.

Gently, he brushed his hand against her damp forehead, feeling the furrow of her brows and the tension in her clenched jaw. With the first rays of sunlight casting onto their bed, he resolved to rouse her from the haunting nightmare. One hand on her forehead and the other on her shoulder, he shook her as tenderly as possible, determined to lift her from the darkness that still gripped her even in the dawn's light.

Her eyelids lifted slowly, disoriented by the glare of the morning sun, until she turned to face him. His smile, one reserved solely for her, greeted her as she whispered hoarsely, clumsily pushing aside hair stuck to her forehead. Gortash lent a hand, gently tucking the strand back into place. "Good morning," she murmured, her voice rough with sleep. "Did I keep you up again, my love?" she asked, aware of the restlessness she often brought to their bed. "Yes, you did." He confessed, "But it's quite alright," he reassured her, as he always did.

In truth, he had grown used to staying awake, watching over her or getting lost in his work. Long before she found her way back to him, he often found himself scheming, indulging in various vices to pass the darkest hours. Years ago, they had shared nights indulging together—moments perhaps lost to her, but etched into his mind like feverish memories. He remembered the madness in her eyes, the sharpness of her smile, and the bruises and wounds that once marked her body.

Though those scars had healed and her madness had softened, she still stirred something within him. Leaning in, he kissed her forehead, tasting the faint saltiness of sweat, yet it didn't bother him. As she slowly woke, she wrapped her arm around his chest, his hair tickling her skin as she nestled her face into his neck, inhaling his calming scent.

In her absence, on her travels, she had become a better person. It shone through, even behind the swiftness with which she wielded the blade and the cunningness of her words. And it sickened him.

Not because of what she had become, but because he could never be. But he might damn well try. For her. For the chance, she took on him, even when his mind was stolen and corrupted by Bane. The Parasite had been her second chance. She would be his. Perhaps.

"You don't seem alright," she said softly.

"Just thinking, my dear," he admitted, pulling her even closer.

[tadpolejourney]

Day 4

Cool story, Astarion's a vampire spawn. He tried to bite me while I was lying in my bedroll last night. We talked it over, and I decided it was better to let him bite me. It sounds mad, but he was honest when I confronted him, and he did seem weaker than the rest of us in battle. It hurts really fucking bad to be bitten by a vampire, surprise to no one. He seemed different after. Happy, stronger. He fought brilliantly today, nearly downed a bugbear assassin with one strike. I feel weaker today. I was a bit off during battle. Couldn't hit the broad side of a bugbear. Oh well. I'm sure I'll feel better tomorrow.

It wouldn't shock me though if this was all an elaborate performance. Eyes of a predator after all, and predators know how to long con better than anyone. No matter. It's better at least some of the truth comes out now rather than later. I don't know enough about vampires or vampire spawn to say. He confided in me about what being a vampire spawn means, which is essentially a slave to a vampire master. He talked about how something is allowing him to walk in the sun and do things he normally couldn't, including being free of his master. Effects of a mindflayer parasite infection on a vampire spawn? Doesn't seem like there would be a book on that subject. But then again what do I know, I'm 'unlettered'.

Yes, that's still bothering me. ANNOYING.

Speaking of annoying, he was unhappy with my decision to keep Astarion as an ally. Understandable, I suppose. When I spoke to him about it later he seemed more understanding of Astarion's condition. He told me he has some condition of his own where he'll get hungry for magical items and need to consume them. Naturally he refused to elaborate with anything more than threatening, ominous doom and gloom. So yeah, really normal stuff happening, really normal people out here.

Lae'zel did not give two shits about Astarion being a vampire spawn. Props to her for being open-minded.

We came upon a druid grove being defended from goblins by tieflings and mercenaries. One of the tieflings told me Baldur's Gate is a tenday's walk away. I really hope our travels don't lead there. That's where the tieflings want to go.

When we battled outside the gates of the druid's grove, there was a … warlock? Fighter? He was using dark magic and a sword at the same time, hence my confusion. When our minds collided I saw this hot devil woman he's obsessed with. He's hiding something like most of my newfound allies, and I can tell it's something big. He's a real hero type, though, like that seems to be his whole identity and purpose. Calls himself 'The Blade of Frontiers', one who answers the calling of a champion, here to save the innocents and slay the devils. I've acquired yet another truly sexy but deranged ally? I'm in trouble...

While we're on the topic of sexy and deranged allies, Shadowheart was at the grove! At first she seemed genuinely happy to see me, but immediately changed her tune when she saw Lae'zel. I guess fighting alongside her on the nautiloid was not enough to assuage Shadowheart's racism. She was excessively rude to me after I refused to part ways with Lae'zel. When I tried to speak to her in camp she refused to tell me anything at all about herself and seemed eager to be rid of me as soon as possible. She said something about me being the 'quick-to-anger' type with even less self-control than brains. Then she boasted about how great of a judge of character she is. Ha. She should consider herself lucky to have been completely wrong about me – otherwise she wouldn't have a fucking face.

Lae'zel treats me like I am an idiot too. All while she speaks of crackpot wisdom carved in stone and something something queen.

I wonder if it's my accent, the way I speak, my youth, or me refusing to be an asshole for no reason that makes everyone think I'm fucking stupid. It's tiresome.

I WANT A BATH.

<<< Day 3 | Index | Day 5 >>>

[cambion-companion]

Hello! I enjoyed reading your Raphael fics! ( it must be a bit obvious who I' am because I've been the one on the liking and reblogging spree of your fantastic work hehe ).

Simping on this handsome devil, I've had this idea in mind. Our companions, and 2 Tavs ( maybe one is a Durge? ), and the story goes as usual. Raphael offers to remove the tadpole / Orphic Hammer in exchange for the crown, but he notices this other Tav ( female ) who was much more timid compared to the brave and heroic leader Tav. He takes interest in this shy and timid Tav and he eventually finds out she's "innocent" ( yes, see, I've been reading your fics haha ) in many ways more than one. A potential, pliable and submissive "client".

So, he gains interest in her more than the other Tav and secretly visits her one day, offering to take her away from the chaos of this group, shut the tadpole once and for all, and give her possibly everything she wanted. In exchange for one and only one thing.

"You" he says.

What do you think? >.<

I would very much be the happiest person if you take this little idea of mine and write something about it. Thank you so much! ❤️❤️❤️

Thank you so much for reading my Raphael fics! He is certainly living rent free in our brains huh? Who needs a mindflayer parasite when we've got a cambion?

I would love to eventually play with the idea of Raphael and a more meek Tav.

You know how cats get bored of the mice who lay still and don't move? I picture Raphael very much the same way. As evidenced by his obsession with Hope, he really gets off on chasing the little souls who put up resistance.

I love the idea of his offering to shut out the tadpole, cause apparently he CAN DO THAT. I really like and have been considering the idea of him letting the Emperor see everything when Raphael finally ravishes Tav.

Staking a claim and basically saying this mortal is calamari free.

Oh, and there's the point you bring up about Raphael seeing innocence and wanting to corrupt. Definitely in his nature.

Of course, he'd be more than happy to take full advantage of a client so willing to give themselves to him. He's a savvy businessman after all ;)