#i have many thoughts and feelings about gortash sorry

[bhaalrespawn]

you know i fully joke about wanting gortash romance to be real but i am going to be So honest when i say i truly do not want it to be put in the game lmao. and honestly if the franc letter was taken out for that reason, it only reinforces that for me because it kind of just makes me realize how soulless and pandering it will probably feel if some of the other changes are anything to go by. let the man be an absolute freak who loves any man willing to birth a little more slithering, wet malice into the world by putting his weapons in groping, willing fingers smh.

(i also need to be so honest when i say i think either it would need to be durge-locked or be So significantly different for a durge vs. other characters for a romance to work lmao)

[sizzlesouce]

VERY excited to share this here!! I haven't done comics (especially non-commissioned ones) in a VERY VERY long time. So forgive me if it's a bit painful to read, I rarely read them myself. Trying to get back into the comic/manga world slowly, step by step. Wanted to make this short and applicable to as many Durge OC's out there as possible. I like feeling in the gaps of the story that already exists, next, I'm thinking of doing a short comic about Gortash and Lady Janneth's affair (If you missed it, it's canon, it totally happened) Anyway, hope you enjoyed this, if you have any comments that would help me get better at doing comics, let me know. Also, I found this meme that I thought was funny and very much how Gortash spent his evening after finding out Durge's fate :( I found it on Reddit P.S

English is NOT my first language so sorry if some of the sentences sound funny

[scnderlands]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𐕣 THE ENEMY YOU KNOW † e. gortash

word count ; 3.2k

warnings / tags ; MINORS / AGELESS / BLANK BLOGS DNI fem!reader, smut, fingering, slight dubcon, mentions of gortash’s background in arms dealing and whatnot, not proofread, enemy fucking, the smut is over pretty quickly and the story ends pretty suddenly lol,

kai’s notes ; so I’ve always been thirsting over gortash n needed more stuff abt him, I didn’t proofread this and wrote it very quickly, I’m sorry, I’m just brain rotting about this man too much </3 this was gonna have more added ( and someone else too ) but maybe I’ll save that for the next one 🤭

During your travels you had felt many emotions : fear, disgust, joy, relief, and even anger — but never had you ever felt such raw, bestial, unadulterated rage until you stood face-to-face with Lord Enver Gortash.

Horror stories of Gortash’s endeavours fell upon your ears often throughout the months of battling the Absolute. You’d heard of his tyranny, the arms dealing and slavery, all the stuff before and after his time controlling the Absolute.

You knew he was a monster parading in human flesh, a man without a heart or a conscience, and you were truly disgusted by him. Until you met him.

There was no denying your hatred for him, your longing to rip the netherstone from his cold, dead hands. However, he was never anything like you picture other than through a few visions from others, you weren’t sure what it was but he just wasn’t what you envisioned.

When you stood before him at the coronation, part of you wanted to slash his throat right then and there, damned if you were seen, but you knew to be smarter. He came to you with slime-coated compliments, promises of power, and dreadful temptations of ruling together.

What you hadn’t expected was him to come to you with a deal, in exchange neither of you would harm one another, and he’d even give extra information when he could. The thought would have weighed heavy on mind if it weren’t one you had to make in the moment, a split second decision that you couldn’t deny.

Plenty of things were muttered behind you from your companions once you accepted the deal. It wasn’t that you wanted to make a deal with the scumbag, but you knew you needed all the help you could get. And one Chosen One turning again another was exactly the power you needed to aid in your fight against the Absolute.

Over the next few weeks you and Gortash had met plenty of times, most of the time without your friends finding out. For the most part you didn't want to sneak around, but you knew they didn’t agree, and you didn’t want to put them in that position — on the plus side, conversation seemed to go a lot smoother with Gortash when it was just the two of you alone.

“I’m pleased you graced me with your presence today.” Gortash spoke from the other side of the grand hall, not once looking up from the letter he was reading while sitting at the head of the table.

“I’m only here because you said you had information that I might find useful…”

“Patience, patience, we’ll get to all that in due time, love.”

His words made you squirm, not necessarily in a bad way, but more than likely not in a good way either. You couldn’t tell how you were feeling, though you hadn’t been able to tell for a long time now.

“Would you care for a drink?”

Before you could even answer Gortash had clicked his fingers, a gesture toward his servant to fetch you both a glass. The man walked across the room without a soul, no thoughts, only orders to follow — another infected with a parasite, more than likely.

“Please.” Gortash gestured toward the seat closest to his own, a friendly smile on his face which you couldn’t tell whether was real or fake.

“So is there something else you want to discuss before getting down to business?” You questioned as the glass was sat down in front of you, a red wine filled almost to the brim.

“You’re all too impatient, you know that?” His tone was playful as he raised his glass, a hint at you to do the same.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his complaint, but nonetheless you raised your glass to his.

“What’re we toasting to?”

“A done deal, that’s why we are drinking Amnian Dessert Wine, after all.”

Gortash spoke with an elegance, a tone which made you think you should know exactly what the drink is and when it’s drunk.

“It’s an agreement, I wouldn’t say it’s exactly a deal…” you spoke quietly, swishing the red liquid around in your glass.

Another chuckle came from Gortash as he shrugged, clinking his glass against yours with a shiteating grin plastered across his face, “to us.”

A moment of silence passed as you both enjoyed the aged wine, and the quiet, a change of pace for the both of you. There was a moment where you sat and thought about all the things you wanted to ask him, how many questions you had all before meeting with him once again.

“You know, if there is anything you want to say, you can say it, you are among friends.”

His words pulled you from your thoughts and you sharply realised you’d been staring at him the entire time, zoned out without noticing.

“Oh…” you hesitated, making sure not to meet his gaze, “well, what made you want to team up with us?”

There was nothing else you could think about asking after being put on the spot so quickly, and it was a stupid question considering you knew the answer for the most part.

“You… I joined you, not those uncouth friends of yours.” He rolled his eyes and placed his glass down, resting his armoured hand on top of yours gently, “I know we may not see eye to eye on many things, however we do have one common enemy, Orin. And us working together to defeat her is what is best for us both, best for Baldur’s Gate.”

A heat rose up your body, your eyes flickering over where his hand touched yours, your heart beating quicker. Enver noticed your reaction and a ghost of a smile crossed his face, yet he didn’t bother bringing it up, instead he let your own thoughts eat away at you.

“Me and my friends are a package deal, you either take us or leave us.” You frowned at him and carefully pulled your hand away, placing it on your lap and out of his way.

“I understand…I do apologise if I offended.”

For a short while you had a back and forth, skipping over and dancing around conversations, because of course he didn’t want to give you the answers and information he promised you immediately. He wanted to be in your company for a while longer, not that he’d admit that, especially out loud.

With one last mouthful, you finished off your wine and placed the glass down, loud enough to get Gortash’s full attention.

“So, can we finally get down to business then?”

Your patience was wearing thin, you’d been with him far longer than you planned and you didn’t want your camp friends wondering where you were — especially considering all the dangers that had been happening recently.

“Hm.” He stood from his chair and held his hand out for you, “we should discuss these matters somewhere more…private. Although they are all under my control, there are far too many ears around for my liking.”

Your eyes scanned along his golden armoured hand, hesitating for a moment before taking it, a small nod as he pulled you up.

It seemed every time you visited him, you got to see more and more of where he spent all his time, learning a little more about him with each meeting.

“So just how important is this information?”

“Did I ever say it was important?” A little chuckle came from behind you as he shut the door, a hint of sarcasm weaved within his words.

The anger burned in your stomach once again, an all too familiar feeling when around the Tyrant himself. You glared back at him, which only seemed to amuse him that little bit more.

He picked up an envelope from his rosewood desk, and held it in his hand, but kept it close to his chest so you had to walk close to him to grab it.

“You are a nuisance, you know that?”

He only smiled at you, a little part of him enjoying you scolding him ever so slightly. You snatched the envelope away from him and opened it in a hurry, desperate to see the contents so you could finally leave and get back to camp.

“Is this it?”

“Is that not enough?” His finger traced a line along your back as he circled around you like a hawk stalking its prey.

“I—“ you swallowed your words as goosebumps covered your entire body, “it’s just not what I expected…that’s all.”

His face stopped just inches from your own, a devilish glint sparkling in his eyes. Your breath caught in your throat as you finally met his gaze, a mixed feeling of fear and arousal — as much as you hated him being able to that rise in you.

“Gortash…”

“Please, call me Enver, we are friends, after all.”

His finger ran along your jaw while his eyes never looked away from yours, the cool metal of his glove making you want to pull away from him. Every fibre of your being screaming at you to move, to leave and go back to camp, to put distance between you and him, but you couldn’t — you didn’t want to.

“I’ve noticed the way you look at me, and don’t worry, I feel all the same.” His lips ghosted your ear as he whispered, the heat of his breath causing the hairs on your skin to stand on end.

There was no embarrassment or hesitation in his voice, only conviction. He wanted this just as badly as you, if not more.

A quiet moan slipped your lips as his mouth trailed a sloppy line down your neck, his hands squeezing the fat of your hips. He chuckled to himself as your hands moved up to rest on his biceps and your head fell to the side.

“You’re so sure you don’t want this, darling?”

His tone was ever so slightly mocking, he knew the answer but he wanted to hear you say it. He’d been longing to hear you say how much you wanted him, needed him, to hear his name moaned by him.

“I hate…you.” Your hands squeezed at his arms as he bit and sucked at the supple skin of your neck.

“No you don’t, and that’s what you hate.”

He was right, you did want it so badly, you wanted him. It ached your heart how much you were attracted to him, especially considering how much of a bad person he was, all the things he had done to people, to people close to you. You knew if any of your friends found out, you’d be done for, they probably wouldn’t forgive you — but that thought was slowly drifting further and further away with every kiss and grope.

His hands slowly moved down to your ass, while his lips finally met with yours. He kissed you slowly, passionately, with purpose. It was a moment of tenderness, sweetness, before the wild animal instinct kicked in — the need to devour, to ravish you.

Before you could pull away from the kiss, he’d already backed you up and slammed you against a bookcase, tearing your top away from your body and forcing his hands up towards your bare chest.

As you pulled at the top of his jacket, he helped you as he shrugged it off, letting it crumple on the floor where he stood. He yanked his armoured gloves off his hands and threw them off to the side, letting them clattered against the wooden floor without much care. .

“Enver, we really shouldn’t.”

Your words fell on deaf ears, he didn’t care, he needed this too much to stop now. He rarely had time for personal affairs, always too busy trying to take over a city, never meeting anyone new. Not that he ever really wanted to, until he met you that was. He wasn’t sure what it was but you did something to him, you haunted his dreams and his waking hours — you clouded his mind worse than any parasite ever could.

Gortash hummed to himself as he let his hand slide into your pants, relishing in the little gasps into his mouth. His other hand twisting and pinching at one of your nipples, just to make you squirm for him. All he wanted to hear was you moaning for him, because of him, he needed to claim you in ways no one else would, in ways other people could only dream of.

Part of you hoped someone would interrupt just so you could back out of it, but most of you didn’t want that to happen. Even surrounded by friends in the camp, you felt lonely, everyday was a fight and there was never time to form a relationship for you. Now you had this man, this monster, showing you all the attention you never knew you craved so dearly. And no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t ignore it, it relit a passion in you that fizzled out long ago.

His fingers slid into you until his knuckles bottomed out, they curled back and forth before he pulled them nearly all the way out. He knew exactly how to hit that spot inside of you every time his fingers grazed upwards, and he easily had your knees buckling, your hands having to grip at his shoulders just to support yourself. .

“Fuck, Enver…” your head rested against his shoulder as his fingers moved quicker and quicker, forcing moan after moan to tumble so sweetly from your lips.

Before you could come, he moved away from you, slowly bringing his fingers to his face with a smirk on his face. A moment of admiring the way your slick ran down his fingers before he brought them up to his mouth, his tongue running the length of his finger before pushing them into his mouth. He let out a satisfied hum as he cleaned you from them, his gaze watching the way you rubbed your legs together while watching him.

“Come here, my love.” He held his hand out in front of himself, gesturing for you to follow him over to the couch nearby.

Without a thought of your own, you followed his command, trailing behind him like a lost puppy dog. As you got to the couch, he spun you around and kissed you again, pushing you gently backwards onto the cushions. He used his knee to force your legs apart for him, his hands tugging at the waistband of your parts while never letting his lips part from yours.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?”

A heat raised up your body at his words, not being able to look back at him as he pulled your pants down your legs, discarding them on the floor.

He hovered over the top of you, a gentle look on his face unlike one you’d seen before. He chuckled at your embarrassment as he stroked his cock up and down your slit, making you twitch every time he trailed along your puffy clit. Once he gathered enough lube on himself, he slowly pushed into you, and you couldn’t help but hiss at the stretch.

His cock was fatter than you’d have thought, the sensation burning but pleasurable at the same time as he bottomed out in you. It took a moment for you to adjust, his mouth on your neck distracting you from the pain.

“You feel…” he let out a groan as he pulled back, and slowly pushed back into you, “fucking incredible.”

His hips rocked back and forth, his cock pushing all the way into you and then all the way back, repeating that motion over and over again. His head collapsed into the crook of your neck, another low groan from his parted lips.

To him, you felt heavenly, a sensation he hadn’t experienced in Lord knows how long. It was everything he dreamt of and more, and he couldn’t stop himself from giving into temptation, his hips speeding up and pounding into you with more force.

The sound of skin hitting skin, sensual moans, and the bookcase behind the couch were the only sounds in the room. Everything else fell away, no more worrying about the Absolute and the parasites, no more caring about Enver being your enemy, there was only you and him together. It was all that mattered.

Your nails scratched down the bare skin of his back, and his teeth grazed against your neck. His name fell from your lips just the way he always imagined, a dream come true. He couldn’t control himself once he heard his name, he pistoned into you more forcefully, addicted to the sounds he was pushing out of you.

His hand grabbed your thigh and pulled your leg up tighter against his side, his hips and pace beginning to stumble slightly as he was getting closer to finishing. Strings of curse words and moans came from him, and when your cunt tightened around him, he couldn’t help but finish too. He didn’t bother pulling out, the idea of filling you up with his cum was too much for him to handle, he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to.

“Fuck…” he panted as he barely held himself up on his elbow, his eyes looking directly into yours.

A sense of peace washed over you for the first time in months, a release you so desperately needed. He leaned down and placed a careful kiss on your forehead, both of you breathes heavy and ragged.

“That was worth it, was it not?” He laughed, maybe the first time you heard him laugh genuinely.

He was completely at ease, his guard was down for the first time ever around you — both of you as vulnerable as the other. He squeezed into the gap next to you and pulled your head onto his bare, sweaty chest, his hand rubbing up and down your back.

You could feel your eyelids growing heavier and heavier, and you knew you needed to get up, go back to camp, and leave Gortash behind. But you couldn’t, you had never felt so content, so calm as you did now. It was obvious he felt the same way, how his breathing became slow and relaxed, his chest raising up and down rhythmically as he began to fall asleep beside you. Before you knew it you were asleep and being greeted by your dream guardian, with a very disgusted look on their face, and a whole lot to say.

[garlic-and-vanilla]

This ask is in your inbox because my brain has apparently chosen to title you as The Illithid Understander and I feel like you might have interesting thoughts to contribute to this topic (please don’t feel obligated to respond tho!)

When I played through bg3 for the first time, what really stood out to me about the Emperor as a character was that he is full of ambiguity. Many of the questions about him, on both a personal level and on a broader level as an illithid, simply do not have concrete answers in canon. I thought that it was so neat how the writers enshrined a vessel for open dialogue regarding some of the biggest themes and questions of the game/story in a character. I thought the whole point of the Emperor’s character is that there’s no One Right Answer about: its intentions, its morality, how much it still is or isn’t Balduran, how much it is or isn’t a monster, why it cares so much about the PC, if it made the right choices, etc.

Which is why I was utterly shocked to find out that SO many people played the game and just… unquestioningly seemed to think that many of those aspects had concrete answers. That this character that, to me, was defined by ambiguity, had been determined by so many to simply be Evil.

I have my own theories about each of the questions/ambiguities listed above, of course, based on my interpretation of canon. But I see them as just that, theories and interpretation. Maybe my perception of the Emperor as a bunch of unanswered questions is just an interpretation, too, but then what was the writers’ intent? (Did my success in high school English classes make me overly confident in narrative comprehension? Lol)

I’ve read many an interesting take on the Emperor on tumblr and ao3 that seem to vibe generally with the whole It’s Supposed to Be Ambiguous thing, and I’d love to hear your take.

First of all this is so funny and I am so honored to be The Illithid Understander lmao.

Second I am very sorry I haven’t answered this sooner. Alas I am not used to ever receiving asks and just now realized I even have one. And what a wonderful message!!!

Honestly I think you fuckin nailed it my man. In a game that spends so much time and energy asking the player to think about questions like “what does it take to be a monster,” “what aspects cause a person to become monstrous,” and “when does it become worth it to become a monster” the Emperor is the ultimate answer. The non-answer. His character embodies all the questions the game wants to ask, and then doesn’t answer any of them for you.

The game shows you characters and says “this is a monster.” Ketheric Thorm is a monster, and Orin and Gortash, despite how sympathetic their backstories and motivations might be. It shows you cycles of abuse, manipulation, cult mentality, and indoctrination. The power of grief, love, fear, and ambition to lead people down monstrous paths even as they think they’re doing the right thing, or the only thing.

You as the player character directly help your companions navigate these themes. You see how they’re affected, how they struggle, what they might become if they choose to give in, and what they become if they don’t.

Do they become monsters? Do you let them? Do you encourage them?

The game shows you clearly what monsters are, and waits to see if you’ll become one yourself.

Withers asks you, “Do illithids have souls?”

He claims they don’t, initially, but that story is contradicted the moment he meets the Emperor in the High Hall, and when you meet him after undergoing ceremorphosis yourself. There’s also lore out there that says illithids do have souls— non-apostolic ones.

So far as the game is concerned, I’m not sure there’s supposed to be a solid answer to that question. I think— like you do— that it’s supposed to be ambiguous. He is not a character the game points to and says “here is a monster.”

I agree with you wholeheartedly that the Emperor is made of ambiguity. The lack of answers are my favorite thing about him. He’s a mass of unanswered questions that you look at and see the themes of the story inside.

Is the Emperor a monster just for being a mind flayer?

Is he a monster because he came to embrace the power his illithid nature brought him?

Because a friend turned on him, claimed he was lost, and he killed them in self-defense?

Because he dominated Stelmane, a situation we have no context for?

How much of his behavior is genuine? How much of Balduran remains, and how much is illithid? Does he even know himself? Does it matter?

He’s a big mystery. We simply do not know everything about his past. We don’t know how much of his behavior is real, or an act. We have to make the deliberate decision to take him at his word, or not. To trust him, or not. To love him, or not. All of this complicated by the reality that his mind and experience are alien to us (a whole other post by itself).

Ultimately, there are no answers except what we come to decide about him for ourselves.

Some people have decided that he’s evil, for various reasons, and sure, that’s certainly a way to answer the question. To end the ambiguity by deciding the Emperor is, after all, a simple monster.

But isn’t it so, so much more interesting if he isn’t?

[emmy-dekarios-bg3]

Heart of the Weave - chapter 29 - still Gale’s POV

We make our way across the bridge to Basilisk Gate, which is just one chunk of Baldur’s Gate, and where it seems to be very quiet. I thought it looked rough after defeating the elder brain, but this…this is just a gruesome disaster by itself, even without mindflayers. Normally, you’d hear chattering from citizens on every corner, or the joys of children laughing as they chase after one another, but all I hear is silence. Some guards are picking up trash on the corners of the streets, some are scrubbing off blood from the walls.

When we were here last, while Emmy was at the doctor getting observed, there was a circus, sorcerers and wizards casting magic outside, and people fishing down at the docks. Even when we were dealing with the mind flayers and Chosen Three, it was more lively here. Now? An empty city filled with loss, heartache, tragedy, and a vile amount of thick blood.

“Gods… This is worse than I thought,” I comment as I observe the emptiness of the city. Every building appears to be locked down for reasons of protection, though who knows how efficient that really is. A male guard approaches us as we try to make our way through the dreaded city.

“Halt,” he demands, though his voice has a tint of weakness. He’s terrified. “It’s not safe to be here. I suggest you find somewhere to take cover and quickly. The Stormshore Tabernacle is your best bet.” Lucky for us, we happen to be next to it, though we don’t have time to take cover and not do anything; these Bhaalists need to be stopped immediately.

“Believe it or not, we’re here to defeat these motherfuckers and put them where they belong – in the graveyard,” Karlach mentions with an expression of vengeance on her face. “We were the ones who killed Orin, Ketheric, and Gortash. Hell, even the elder brain. We aren’t scared of these pieces of shit.” The guard’s eyes widen, and the glistening of the tears he’s fighting back shows hopefulness. I wonder if he lost someone dear to him.

“Oh Hells. Thank the Gods. You’ll more than likely find the cult at the temple underground. Too many innocents are being slaughtered by the minute. Thank you.” His voice is breaking, but he’s smiling at the same time. While this entire situation isn’t ideal, I’m at least glad we’re getting involved to prevent more damage than what’s already been done.

I’m trying not to be distracted by how much I miss Emmy and our daughter. I can’t let these feelings distract me, though it does help to stay positive and think: “We will be home soon enough.”

It’s only been a couple days, but I can’t stop visualizing Emmy’s brown eyes, the way she bites her lip and closes her eyes when I make her blush, the way she leans her head on me after a long day. Then there’s our baby’s bright smile and thick brown hair, reaching for my face as I feed her a bottle…my favorite moment. Being able to bond with her like that, even though she will never age, is one quality of parenthood I enjoy most.

“Gale? Are you doing alright?” Halsin asks. I snap out of my heavy distractions and take a deep breath, preparing to move forward in our endeavors. He’s studying my face, realizing I’m not fully there.

“Sorry, I got lost in a deep train of thought. Let’s go.”

“Thinking about your family, huh?”

“No, no, just how we’re going to obliterate these horrible cultists and demolish their evil ways. I can’t wait to make these fools suffer for what they’ve done.”

“Gale, you’re a terrible liar,” Wyll adds, chuckling. Yeah, I never was good at stretching the truth, not even a little bit.

Once we reach the Lower City, I realize this area is actually rather clean and contains much less blood and gore; though, I suspect there are more guards over here to help keep it contained. Or, maybe people are better at hiding.

We find the manhole that leads down to the sewers, which is where the Temple of Bhaal is, unfortunately. The rancid smell causes discomfort and triggers a peculiar tingle within my stomach. Gods, another horrid odor I’ll never fully adjust to, no matter how often I’m around it. An unfamiliar sensation rises within me following the tingle, but not a regular feeling the average person would obtain. It feels to be a rising of power, something held inside me that wants to be unleashed…and it’s growing stronger by the minute. What is this?

“Hopefully we just go in, kill a bunch of Bhaalists, then make our way back home. I’m not sure it will be quite that simple though.” Wyll’s voice is hushed as we step into the dreaded murder temple, where thousands of skulls and corpses lay and screams of death are being heard from below.

“It never is, unfortunately,” I say, followed with a sigh. We’re here, and I am already aware of the Bhaalists ready to rip us to shreds, even though they’re shrouded and unable to be seen. I know when I’m being watched, the feeling is way too familiar. The screech of terror is nearly deafening and all I can picture is gruesome torture and death. I was hoping I’d never be here again.

We approach the center of the temple where we slayed the slayer, Orin. Piles of corpses surround the circular region and, as we get closer, I notice the assassins are surrounding it also. It seems they aren’t afraid to expose themselves. There’s maybe a hundred of them staring us down like prey; at least, the ones we can see anyway.

“Ooh, mmmm…. Another sacrifice to our Lord, our Father. But…but…but…wait…” One of the assassins growls as they approach us, licking his lips as he stares us down with hungry eyes. He looks around us, as if he’s trying to find a missing piece of a puzzle. “SPEAK. Where is she?”

“What the fuck is this loon talking about?” Karlach whispers.

“SILENCE! I’m talking to the Wizard. He’s married to the one we’re searching for. I’m going to ask again: where is she?” His eyes are piercing me as he awaits an answer, and they slowly turn into a vicious crimson as his patience runs thin.

“You want my wife? Why?”

“Our LORD wants her. He desires her. For her skin to be carved and hung up like cloth, for her body to be placed on his altar. Only then, will he have a new chosen. WHERE IS SHE?!” I give him a puzzled expression, wondering in my head why he thinks I’d willingly give him any information about Emmy.

“Why is she in particular interest to her Lord? Is it because we slaughtered Orin and he wants her avenged?”

“YOU WILL SPEAK NO MORE! Whoever slays her will take her place. I will slaughter all of you right here, right now if you do not speak the answers we desire.” I laugh as he continues to spew his pompous nonsense in my face, as he speaks ill of my wife in front of me. The feeling within me from earlier grows stronger and more potent, and it builds up within me as if I’m about to burst with radiant power.

“You can’t kill her, nor can you kill me. It’s physically impossible, you see.” The assassin licks his bloody blade and puts it against my neck, but he looks mildly afraid for some reason.

“And why not? Bhaal won’t like this, mmm no he won’t.”

“Because we’re immortal.” And it’s at that very moment, an intense wave of power flows through me, building up rapidly as rage grows. My body tingles, which leads to a feeling of overwhelming heat, like my body is an inferno.

“Oh shit, Gale’s eyes are…glowing?” Karlach mutters, observing me in horror but also excitement at the same time. I can’t see myself, but I imagine what I’m doing looks rather unsettling to the eyes of mortals.

“I’m going to be following up on Karlach’s statement with my own: Holy fuck, Gale,” Astarion adds. All the assassins move back as my body floats in the air, my entire body overflowing with powerful radiant magic that seems to be coming from the source of my immortality.

“NO, STAND DOWN!” one of the assassins shrieks in horror, but before they have the chance to dash out of the temple, my body releases the radiance held within me, completely disintegrating at least half of the bodies of the Bhaalists, leaving a few others rather injured. What was this power I was granted with? It’s as if my body sensed evil. It knew what was in here.

[pavus]

PLEASE share more thoughts on tavtash because I am OBSESSED with some of your little ideas… like how would the camp react?? especially if tav is good aligned?? how would this work for the ending?? SO MANY POSSIBILITIES FOR ANGST

i might've just woken up moments ago, but i am here. i am awake. i am going to talk about tavtash.

in my mind, most of the camp is willing to give tav the benefit of the doubt after everything they've done. karlach is more than willing to stand by with a watchful eye, though it hurts her to see tav get closer to the monster who handed her to zariel. in my opinion, it's hardest for wyll, considering both the fact that gortash was part of his father's tadpoling (is that what we're calling it?) and is also holding him prisoner, but tav has shown themselves to be of excellent character, right? so, he stands by them, thinking that it's a ploy, that tav is playing a lanceboard game all on their own. and for some tavs, maybe that's even true. maybe they're siding with gortash because they aren't sure if they can control all of the netherstones on their own, and gortash seems more stable than orin. their companions don't look at them and go, "this is someone who is susceptible to a man like gortash's manipulation," and so they wait. they listen. they do what they can, all while tav is getting closer and closer to him. i feel like both wyll and karlach would leave if they found out that the alliance with gortash was anything more than simple strategy. it's obvious that they were mistaken about them and that they are on different paths. halsin would be disgusted by what gortash was capable of and willing to do to sentient beings, but he's not... wholly invested in keeping baldur's gate afloat and can still help in the ways that he wants badly to help. shadowheart is hesitant, but in the end, she sees tav as her closest friend and wouldn't abandon them, not after they helped her reunite with her parents. with lae'zel, it fully depends upon the path you've taken for her. i can see it going either way. either she abandons you at the end or she sticks by the side of the person who opened her eyes to the truth of her brainwashing. astarion doesn't care. at that point, tav has helped him so much that he'd stand by their side regardless of where they were going. and gale? gale's just like, "alright," because guess who has no fucking say in who someone is in a romantic relationship with. it's gale. and THE ENDING. i'm the ceo of weenie hut jr, so i like to imagine both rosalind and ismay have gortash just in check enough to keep him from stepping in and getting fucking zapped, but god. the delicious angst when that does not happen for other tavs. when they realize that they lost their friends and sullied their morals for something that would never happen, for a love lost because of gortash's... sudden inexplicable lack of patience? GUTTING.

also i am SO SORRY that this got so fucking long, i just have thoughts. and feelings. and i love gortash, but i also deeply love tav.

[nocanonhere]

Happy Wyll's Week! Day 4/7

-There Is Hope Yet (SFW, but has more kissing): Tav (Aiya) cant help but tease Wyll about how big of a flirt he is. Anything to brighten the mood. (there is some angst here though) (centered around my Tav, Aiya. Elf-Dragon Sorceress)

He’s certainly attended more parties in the time frame of this journey than he would have expected.

They have a long way to go, but cleansing Moonrise Towers was the beginning of the road to victory. Jaheira encouraged them all, after their proper burials of the Harpers they’d lost, to have a drink and socialize. They were all to be allies from this point forward.

And here he is again, not participating.

The water sloshes against the docks quietly. He wonders just how much life is left in there; if anything of the aquatic variety survived this curse. He wonders how long it will be before the land heals. Halsin seems to have dropped a weight off his shoulders. He was practically glowing about having saved Thaniel and Oliver. Wyll has witnessed many things unheard of, but the personification of nature being present in those children was going to stand out in his mind forever.

They had been a step behind Gortash and Orin, and his father had been infected. What Wyll feared had arrived. With the Duke under mind control, the time clock for their necessary intervention had been cut by a third.

He has a drink in his hand, and another bottle set by his feet. He had hoped a little wine would ease the anxiety swirling in his stomach.

He had hoped for a lot of things. He knows he is the one always toting to never give up, because nothing was over till it was over. But now, he wonders if his opportunity to reconcile with his father had been decimated.

He hears steps, and is in a bad enough mood that he feels annoyed about having been disturbed. He just wants a few moment to himself. How hard can that be?

“Wyll,”

His annoyance evaporates and is replaced with something else. That feeling she generates in him every time they have a moment together.

Perhaps he doesn’t mind, if it’s her.

He turns around to greet her, plastering a half smile on his face for appearances. She doesn’t seem to be buying it.

She seems stiff, and when she’s at his side, he can see her hands pressing into her lower back.

She notices him watching, and shakes her head. “If we make it out of this, I know I’ll have to live with the life-long injuries I’ve gotten on this little trip. I swear I’ll never recover.”

He hums in agreement. “I’m certain I did something to my right shoulder that will haunt me terribly in ten years or so. Maybe less.”

“From this or from your Frontier days?”

“Both,” he shrugs.

It goes quiet then. He wasn’t really in the most festive of moods, and it didn’t want to bring anyone else down with him. He admires everyone so much, especially when they chose to celebrate in the darkness. Grief was forever, but true joy was temporary. It was important to create it where they could.

But he’s not feeling so chatty. And this doesn’t feel like one of their moments where they just sit and enjoy the silence.

“Wyll, I’m sorry.”

He snaps his head to the side then, not expecting that and not understanding what in the world she could be apologizing to him for.

“Whatever for?” he asks, crouching down to set down the wine bottle.

“That we couldn’t make it to your father in time,” she answers. Her hands are still on her back, but her head has fallen forward. She had taken her hair out of her standard braid, so the tresses were blocking her face.

Water droplets started hitting the dock, and for a moment, Wyll foolishly thought that rain had returned to the land, but quickly realized it was Aiya.

She was crying.

“Aiya,” he breathes. He’s a little unsure what to do, he’s never seen her quite like this. “You have nothing to apologize for. It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.”

“I know, but” she strains. “I promised you we would save him.”

“And there may still be time yet,” he assures, walking over to her and gently placing a hand on her shoulder.

But that touch only seems to make her worse. She shuffles her shoulder and steps away, prompting Wyll to remove his hand. Something painful grips his throat for a moment, before he clears it.

“My apologies,” he said, bowing his head slightly. “I should have asked if that was okay.”

“No, Wyll. It’s fine. I just-

She lifts her head, and when her hair falls away, Wyll can see the moisture on her face, and the tears brimming in her eyes.

She begins to sniffle. “Sorry. I just don’t…like being touched when I’m upset. It makes me even more…upset.”

“Of course,” he nods gently. “I will make note of that and act accordingly in the future.”

She lifts her hands and wipes at her face, pressing her palms into her closed eyes hard enough to blur her vision.

The tears seemed to have stopped falling, but the sniffles are still there.

“Would you like to sit?” he offers, gesturing to the edge of the dock. She nods and gets closer to him, both of them sitting down and dangling their feet over the edge.

Oddly enough, he finds that the brooding feels better with company. More evidence giving weight to the age-old adage about misery.

Or maybe it’s less misery and more so that he’s just happy to have time with her, even if it isn’t as pleasant as their other shared moments. They had not touched or kissed since their dance, and he did not ask her why. He wondered, of course. But things had become incredibly busy and bloody once they had to defend the portal for Halsin the following day.  

In the meantime, he hadn’t been able to find any items worth gifting. The flowers here were mainly things she used for ingredients, so he wasnt sure if those would suffice as a romantic gift. He thought about writing her something nice, a poem perhaps. But he wasn’t sure what to say just yet. He didn’t want to record one he already knew. He wanted to be original for her.

“So,” she begins, trying to make conversation to lighten the moment. “Any recommendations for places to visit in Baldurs Gate? Giving that it will be left standing.”

“Oh absolutely,” he answers, smiling. “I used to sneak off to…well, I probably wasn’t sneaking; my father probably knew. But I would go to a lounge in the lower city near the harbor. I would go with my friends Nasina and Yudi. Yudi’s dad was a high ranking Fist before he was forcibly retired. Him and my father still remained friends. And Nasina was the daughter of our seamstress, Kali.”

He sighed. “We were no more than sixteen, and Yudi was the one who started dragging me there anyway. But it was like a tavern, and the age ranges were close enough to ours. It mainly seemed to be younger students. But the barkeeper clocked our ages the second we sat at the bar, telling us to take these waters and go somewhere else.”

She laughs, and he smiles at the memory.

“It’s the music that I enjoyed the most. Some people would play and sing for fun. Some for coin. I ended up there on the stage more than once singing quite off key with my friends. Lots of good memories in that place. If it’s still standing, I would like to take you there. And this time, we can get a bit crocked.”

He looks at her, and it seems that she has calmed down some. “That sounds great,” she says. Then she cocks her head. “Did you have a lot of friends, before?”

“Truthfully, only a few friends. The rest of the nobles in my age group were acquaintances because of family and money. I may have been popular, but Yudi and Nasina were my crew.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. The popularity part. You’re quite the catch. And quite the flirt.”

“Hah,” he laughs. “That last bit isn’t exactly true.”

“Oh please,” she moans, rolling her head with it. “You have been the biggest flirt on this journey!”

“How so?”

She opens her mouth in shock. “How…how so? You’ve complimented literally everyone in this camp.”

“People should be appreciated.”

“Yeah, but when Lae’zel tried to make good on it, you backed out.”

He sits forward quickly. “She told you about that?”

“Of course she did,” she bubbles with laugher. “Don’t be upset with her. She didn’t mean anything by it. There are quite a few discrepancies between social conduct here and among the Githyanki. But then there’s Shadowheart. Who shot you down very quickly.”

“Yes, but I wasn’t making an attempt, exactly. She’s just…beautiful.”

“Then Karlach-

He interrupts her. “Now, even you know.”

She bites her bottom lip before laughing again. “Yes. Yeah, that one is completely understandable,” she says, staring off in the distance before snapping back to the moment.

“You called Halsin a thick hunk.”

“Was that a lie?”

“Then there was that comment about Astarion’s tongue.”

“Which you all took out of context.”

“You made that joke to Gale about his magical touch.”

“Now that was meant to be suggestive, yes,” he points.

“You’ll probably start complimenting Jaheira in a moment, since she’ll be joining us.”

“Have you seen her?”

“Wyll!” she laughs. “The point is, whether you mean to or not, many things that you say and do come off as flirtatious. And I refuse to believe teenage Wyll wasn’t making the ladies swoon with his words. Maybe some of the gentleman too.”

He doesn’t have a defense. Not at all. So he just banters. “You think you have all the answers, don’t you?”

“No,” she wheezes out, still full of giggles. “Tell me I’m wrong. How many did you recite poetry to?”

“A few.”

“Exactly, Wyll.”

He shakes his head. “But I truly wasn’t that bad. A few recitations here and there, and of course there were the dances, but there was someone in particular I was interested in at the time. And I was serious about showing her.”

“Ooooh,” she teases. “What’s her name?”

“Uh, well. It was Nasina.”

“And did Nasina know this?”

“Well, yes. We were together, after all.”

“Ah,” she says, nodding slowly. “You were going to omit that little fact.”

He grimaces. “I didn’t mean to. We were friends, over everything. And together only for a short amount of time before we resumed our friendship. ”

“Relax. I’m teasing,” she assures. “But that’s really cute.”

He looks at her, and shakes his head in disbelief. “I’m glad you find it so.”

She looks away, smile still on her face. He thinks he’d let her pick and prod at him all she wanted if it made her laugh.

“And what about you?” he asks. “I understanding Elven lifespans are measured differently, as are Dragonborns. But what was the equivalent of your teen years like?”

By the way her smile falters, he knows he asked the wrong question. He tries to regroup the moment quickly.

“Of course, you don’t have to answer.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” she sighs, shrugging. “But it was…hard, I suppose. I didn’t exactly get a proper coming-of-age experience. Or life, really. But I did have a few friends. I left quite some time ago, though. I haven’t kept up with anyone.”

He nods, ruminating on her words. He still knows so little about her. About her home, her family, her upbringing. But from the small things he’s gathered, like her aversion to talking about it, he supposes it’s not something she really wants to discuss.

When he thought of home, it was painful because he missed it. But it seems when she thought of hers, it was painful just because it was painful.

“And what about now?” he asks. “I mean, I know you weren’t in Baldur’s Gate when you were captured. But where you were, did you have friends there? Or any family?”

Or a partner, perhaps?

“Not really,” she says, not elaborating. “Sorry. It’s probably so rude to not really answer any of your questions when you freely answered mine.”

“That is not an issue,” he adds. “Although I do hope to learn you, in time.”

She looks at him in exasperation. “That. That right there.”

He looks the other way, sees nothing, then turns back to her. “What?”

“What you just said!” she points, then smiles. “You cannot just say things like that.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that,” he tries to convince. “Or, I didn’t mean it in a flirtatious way.”

His explanations only send her back to laughing.

“Gods,” she sighs. “This has been a day.”

He nods. “That it has. You should rest.”

“I should.”

It goes quiet again, and the expression on her face becomes curious.

“I should,” she says again, and Wyll notices her eyes flick down momentarily. He exhales.

“Now who’s being the flirt?” he asks.

She leans closer then, looking up at him. “I’ve been spending too much time around you, I suppose.”

They linger there, neither moving any closer. But Wyll feels the air charge, rolling with tension.

“May I kiss you?” she asks.

He doesn’t answer her verbally, but he does close the gap and press his lips to hers, gently.

They separate and do it again. Then again. Then again.

He wants to keep going, desperately. But the moment was boiling to a temperature he wasn’t braced to reach yet. He was still committed to working this process slowly.

There is a soft, searching look in her eyes. The same one she gave him after their first kiss, the night of their dance. He hates to pull away from her again, but it’s for the best.

“Would you like me to walk you back?”

“Oh, no. That’s okay,” she answers him quickly, agreeing to end the moment. “I’ve done enough this evening. First the crying, then the laughing. Then that.”

And when she’s to her feet, she sways just a bit.

“Aiya,” he begins, smile beginning to bloom on his face.

“It’s Karlach’s fault,” she says, confirming his suspicions. “She’s an enabler. I’m not drunk. Honestly. I think the exhaustion, plus the healing potions, then the wine was a bad trio. No, it absolutely was a bad trio.”

“You probably are just tired,” he stands, grabbing the two bottles he brought back with him. He’s going to return them to their storage because he no longer needs them for what he brought them out there for. The anxiety that had been eating him earlier had been blanketed with her presence, her jokes.

Her kisses.

“But knowing that you are under the influence, I will walk you back for safety purposes.”

“We have killed everything even remotely within this radius.”

“Just go with it,” he encourages, holding out his free arm for her to grab onto.

“My lady,” he nods.

They start walking back, footsteps cutting through the silence, and laughter ringing through the air.

[archduke-enver-gortash]

🔥🔥🔥

i am too much of a pussy to share snippets so you get a summary (without too many details or big spoilers because y’know i have to save some shit. sorry i said i wasn’t fitting for this game lol) !!!!!!! 🫵 🫵 🫵 🫵 (<- adding that emoji so i feel braver)

so this is the event that people who have seen a lot of my posts maybe remember as ‘tower arson’ lol. it’s also the event in which gortash realises that zeke is his equal in divinity.

so, the year is about 1483 and gortash and zeke have had many horrific encounters in their weird thing already. (basic version for the early days: zeke is investigating gortash’s schemes/on the hunt for him as a detective and gortash is ruining his life but a bit less fervently than after this event.) after all these zeke is a total wreck, mentally and physically. he hasn’t eaten or slept in weeks and the last time he did also had such a time span in between. gortash is plaguing his nightmares, so how could he? gortash is plaguing the food, so how could he? the fic just before this deals with zeke’s decision to finally make this hunt as a detective a real hunt, so when he hears about gortash having a celebratory dinner/gathering/festivity to honor his work on the finally finished clocktower this dinner is taking place in, he makes completely well-thought out decisions like every sleep-deprived, starving, mental wreck and decides to take out gortash that evening. that’s where i’ll shut up for now but one more thing i should add: this takes place on august/eleasis 14th :]

@rowanisawriter you asked for this one too!!

[rowanisawriter]

Rowan I’m so sorry LOL😂

15, 19, 20, 21, 23, 28, 29, 31 

But feel free to pick and choose!!

hi bestie thank you!! i’ll pick the ones i haven’t answered yet lol!!

answering these writer asks here!

15. What's your favourite plotless fic you have written?

lol most of my fics are plotless but i like big idea, it’s supposed to be about gale appreciating a mortal body after all that astral sex lol but it ended up being pretty freeform and plotless (still good tho i think)

19. Share a snippet from a wip without giving any context for it.

“You sweet fool,” Astarion says, his voice teasing, but his eyes are wide and round, and laugh lines form along the sides of his mouth, and he looks so painfully human it makes Wyll ache.

20. Do you work on a single project or many at the same time? How does that work for you?

i have a lot of wips and only work on one if i feel like it, forcing myself to write never works. so if i write something and feel like its finished, it gets published right away. if i still need to chip away at it, i leave it in the folder and go do something else or write something else. sometimes this works, sometimes it’s distracting lol idk!!

23. Dialogue or description? Why is the other one so hard?

definitely description for me, i love writing thoughts and feelings. dialogue is difficult, i feel like some of my fics barely have any dialogue in them at all lol

31. What was the most difficult fic for you to write (but in the end you made it)?

recently… overlap which is my gale-gortash comparison fic, it was a challenge. i have 10k words for this outside of what was published, i just kept starting it and then scrapping and then starting again, over and over because what i had didn’t match the vision for what i wanted the story to be. it ended up fine i just needed to get my head out of my ass for a second lol

[adorablebanite]

I'm trying to get myself hyped up to continue my last 2 chapters and finally finish this- I took such a big hiatus after Gortweek, and I really want to get this done! The people reading/supporting the ENTIRE WAY though have been so lovely and nice! Please enjoy! (or don't! It's up to you!) Please also note -I am an extreme amateur - this is the first thing I've written in over 10 years xD

Destri couldn’t disclose to Lilla exactly why her emotions were so off-kilter, but the young cleric didn’t pressure her; instead they sat on the bed together, bantering as if they had been friends, or sisters, since forever.

Soon, Lilla was enthusiastically recanting her tale of the Banite tournament (not excluding her romp with Rugan, which the Bhaalspawn was particularly interested in), as well as her short stint at the House of Hope. Destri clung onto every word, enamoured with the story, as well as Lilla’s own journey to navigate her complicated thoughts. 

Though their situations were quite different, Destri found a modicum of relatability between her and Lilla. She hadn’t fully understood the reasons Lilla ended up in the hells until that night; only that she had sought to save the dashing Rugan’s life, at the expense of her soul - all under the assumption that the tyrant didn’t want her anymore. 

It was a wholly absurd concept, Destri thought, but endearing… and romantic - even funny, in many ways. It reminded her of one of her corny, lewd stories, and she found herself revelling in the friendship she had with Lilla. The young woman was so easy to love; her company so effortlessly accommodating…Destri found her mind wandering somewhat, while Lilla went on a scholarly tangent about her studies into the nature of succubi and incubi.

Instead of a bloody vista, as far as the eye could see, Destri was lulled by images of herself, Lilla, and the tyrant simply spending time together. Lord Gortash with his inkling for mechanical bones and joints, Lilla perhaps reading a book on whatever topic captured her at the moment, and Destri serenading them with a soft, serene cello piece before a cosy fire.

It was only a quick vision, but it was strong. Strong enough to make her heart ache with want. She can’t have that when everyone is dead. Before the tyrant, she wouldn’t have thought twice about cutting every cord of life from this world…But that damned, pathetic man and his adorable little gremlin of a woman were enough to make her question her born destiny. 

She should be angry at them; furious for distracting her…But perhaps due to Lilla’s calming spell, or simply her charming presence, there was no hate or rage in Destri’s heart…Only warmth. Love, maybe. Love was a foreign feeling she had only recently been acquainted with - which was hysterical , because clearly the tyrant was the same. Neither of them knew how to navigate each other, yet they did it anyway. When one was misled by some emotion or another, the other would guide them through the storm. 

Was that what love was? Was it really that simple? It seemed so simple if one didn’t think about it…But when Destri tried to consider what it was exactly, she screwed up her face in an attempt to understand the paradox: an unconditional kindness, while simultaneously acting as a transactional oath. You do no harm to me, nor I to you . But what if harm was done unintentionally? Like when the tyrant says something cruel he didn’t mean, or when Destri acts cold towards him to shield herself from fear? It’s not meant to hurt him, it’s meant to protect herself…But maybe protecting herself wasn’t as important as taking gentle care of him when he’s laying his beating heart bare for her to scrutinise…

Oh gods, oh gods. Oh father. 

I’m sorry, so sorry. 

You gave me life, and this is the tangle I have woven in thanks for your gifts…

But I never asked for these gifts, did I? 

I am your child. You say you love me. 

If you truly love me, then am I permitted to choose my own fate? 

Or is our love transactional, not unconditional? 

It’s it not a lovely paradox of one and the other, in which some queer, twisted balance can be agreed on?

Is our love your love only?

I pay you in souls, and you pay me in fleeting ecstasy.

…Is that love? 

I never knew anything else until the tyrant.

Can you lay your heart bare for me, like he has? 

Maybe then I can better understand your demands. 

Maybe then I can better understand my sordid birthright. 

“My Lady?” Lilla’s voice called to Destri from a million miles away; across a red ocean, beckoning her home. 

“Hmm?” Destri blinked the glaze away, focusing on the cleric’s beautiful features, “Oh, Lilla. I apologise…I’ve been distracted of late. So tired...”

Lilla responded with a warm smile, “Of course, My Lady - no apologies needed, you know that! I got lost in my own thoughts about devils and incubi, and maybe Rugan…”

This drew out a surprise guffaw from the Bhaalspawn, “You’ll really have to introduce me to this Rugan…It’s the first person I’ve heard you speak about in such a way besides the tyrant…Be sure he doesn’t become jealous!”

Lilla blushed, “Rugan will never be like Master…But I like him. I think. I also want to crush him, just a little - you know?”

Destri gawked at Lilla in surprise, then burst out into a flowery laugh, “I actually know exactly what you mean, my sweet.”

“Oh thank the gods,” Lilla sighed, “Besides, Master isn’t jealous of Rugan - he invited him over the night you two rescued me from the House of Hope!” The red on her cheeks deepened at the memory, “They both fucked me silly as a punishment.”

“WHAT?” Destri squealed in shocked delight, eyes flaring.

“Master made me drink my berry-red potion - which makes one

rather mad for cock - and they tied me up, and both had their way…”

“LILLA!!?!!”

“I thought you were maybe watching from the oak tree, like you sometimes do!”

“LILLA!!!!” Destri’s cheeks and ears burned with embarrassment; she covered her face and fell back onto the bed, laughing. 

“Oh please,” Lilla scoffed playfully, “It’s not like we’re exactly playing the role of chaste princesses at this point…”

Destri slapped her on the arm, trying and failing to prevent her laughs from turning into grotesque snorts, which caused Lilla to burst into laughter alongside her.

[treepsap]

Misconceptions

Astarion x OC Tav

TW: Sexual Acts, Sexual Abuse, Assault, Trauma, Argument, Fluff

Blurb: Taking place after the defeat of Cazador, before the Absolute is destroyed, Asra and Astarion are only a few days after Astarion's first free night when they get a room in Elfsong Tavern.

‐-------------------------------------------------

He was worried. Ever since he confessed his true love for her, spending that night in the graveyard, he noticed things had been off. Although she had always been, off. She was a great leader, and had even taken the Astral-Touched Tadpole in turn for the team. But she seemed almost eager when the Emperor had given it to her. She had always been rather... closed off, even with her looks. She didn't seem to mind civilians staying away from her. Most of Baldur's Gate hated her anyway. Orin was dead, Gortash was dead, so she had busied herself trying to comfort Karlach. The team had prepared to go fight the Absolute, so they were resting in the inn above Elfsong Tavern that evening. Astarion had figured that maybe he could instigate something, perhaps get her to admit what was wrong, or the like. But that night, she wasn't very talkative. She had been having nightmares recently, he could hear her tossing in her bedroll in camp. Tonight she must have been plagued with the same thoughts, because there she sat, thinking. Her long white hair had been taken down, and the gentle curls hung loosely over her shoulders, pooling down behind her as she sat on the bed. Her eyes, once so beautiful in the perfect shade of aquamarine and ultraviolet speckles, was now black. She had gotten a new tattoo to hide half of her face, but other than that... Astarion still thought she was beautiful. Had comforted her many times.

"You're staring." She murmured, turning to fix her eyes distractedly on him. She was still beautiful, even if that pale skin had purple veins on it. Almost had a certain charm to it.

"Well of course, darling. My beautiful lover is right in front of me, dressed in her night clothes." He smirked, trying to tease her as her nightclothes were backless.

"Beautiful." She tsked, almost scolding.

He frowned. "I've said it before and I'll say it again. The tadpole doesn't make you any less beautiful. Besides, you look beautiful enough when you're fighting, love."

"Glad you think so." She stared out the window.

"Hey, you've been... off, recently. Ever since... that night at the graveyard." He spoke slowly, as if buttering a soft, delicate roll. "You seemed... distracted that night."

"I did? Sorry about that." She shrugged it off.

Soon, they had gone to bed. Her breathing made the hair on his neck tingle. He could tell she was upset. She had been. Maybe she was stressed. He knew how to help people relax, perhaps she would be interested. He turned over and ran a hand down her side. She looked back at him.

"What're you doing?"

"Let me... help you darling. Let out some stress, hm?" He leaned over behind her, kissing up the back of her neck. She hesitated, looking away before responding.

"Sure." It seemed so monotone and routine.

He didn't seem to notice, as he grabbed her shoulder and pushed her beneath him. The woman he adored. The one who saved him. He kissed her with all his unbeating heart, his love pouring into the kiss. He was teaching himself that sex was okay. After what Cazador made him do. With her, he didn't feel as much disgust and loathing as he used to. His hands found their regular place on her waist, fingers slipping under her shirt. He didn't take long to undress her, then himself. When he pulled his shirt off, she was gazing off to the side. "You okay?"

"Hm- oh yes, I'm fine." She turned her glossy eyes back on him, pulling him in for a kiss. A movement she had mastered like a dance. The art of lovemaking. It was almost similar to his own movements from his experience, which was strange since she was so young. She was only twenty-two, and she had this experience. But he didn't ponder on it for long, biting her inner thighs before taking a claw and slicing through her underwear. He could sew her new ones.

"Again with the underwear?" His answer was his kisses around her folds, to which she let out a tiny sigh. "Can we... skip the build up tonight? If you don't mind." She sounded almost uncertain as if she could even ask that. But he furrowed his brow and nodded, before moving his hands to slip off his underwear, tossing them to the side.

"You're so beautiful." He quipped, running his hands over her pale body. Letting goosebumps slide in their wake. He busied himself kissing her as his hands slid down to her thighs, spreading them to be on either side of his waist. At this point, she knew that he preferred control. Made him more comfortable with intimacy in general. Dhe knew how to play her role. Knew when to not move, knew when to move. It was automatic. Her hands slid over his shoulders to gather in his white curls, the soft strands hanging over his forehead as he towered over her. His mouth played with hers, getting heated. Something felt wrong. He had begun to think that it was just her and her style. Once he began to sink into her, he let out a content sigh. He loved the feeling. Her warm body wrapped around his own, the way she molded to his form as he would thrust slowly, before speeding up to a comfortable pace. She kept... dazing off. It bothered him; could she really not focus on her own partner? His cool hands slid up to hold her cheeks. "Are you okay?"

"Hm-? Oh, yes. I'm fine, sorry." She gave him a kiss in which he returned, pushing away the uncertainty growing in his stomach.

"Good." He was too in the moment, gripping her thighs tightly as he picked up his pace, pounding in hard and deep. He leaned over her and she had rolled her head to the side, leaving him to bite her. He moaned at her warm blood in his mouth. She had never really made any sounds when they made love, but when he pulled away from her neck, was dazing off again. "Hey... darling...?" His pace faltered.

"I'm here... it's fine." She murmured, kissing him. His release built until he let go, and grunted as he let go on him. She had seemed to go, but she was still dazing off.

"Do you even enjoy this?" He snipped, upset.

"What..? Oh, yes I do." She murmured, eyes lazily resting on them, dazed. "Sorry."

He moved off her. "Every time we've done this, Asra. Every time. And I know I'm doing a good job, I have enough experience to tell me that." She just looked down. He was propped up now, doing the equivalent of pinning her down. His red eyes were angry, full of hurt. "What in the hells-" He heard her heartbeat pick up when she looked up at him and gulped. His lips closed into a faint snarl, though the face was mostly masking his confusion. She seemed to get scared, moving away and slipping off the bed. "Hey, get back here." He put a hand out, snaking it around her waist and pulling her back to become flush to his chest.

"Can we just- go to bed?" She spoke in a hurried voice.

"I... of course, darling." He sighed.

-----------

It had been a few hours, reaching far into the night. Astarion had fallen asleep, and had been laying next to Asra. He awoke to a sharp jab in the side. He was about to snap when he saw the tossing form of Asra. Her knee had jabbed his side as she tossed again, tears slipping from behind closed eyelids. The tadpole in her head must have been squirming, as he could feel its vulnerability. "What in thehello? Asra? Wake up." He shook her arm, trying to rouse her from the obvious nightmare. It took a few tries, but she suddenly lurched up in a panic, tears slipping down her face. The white-haired elf was sobbing, hyperventilating, even. She hugged herself and rocked back and forth, which was soon stalled as Astarion grabbed hold of her. She panicked and tried to escape.

"L-let go of me-!" She yelled, but he muffled her with a hand.

"Don't be so loud- it's just me, darling. I'm here." He soothed, but she still fought.

She seemed to be in a state of terror. The mental energy coming from her tadpole came in waves. Astarion's eyebrows raised, his tadpole squirming uncomfortably in his head. It yearned to communicate with hers. She was freaking out, getting out of his grasp with a struggle, stumbling to the floor. "G-get away from me."

"Darling...? What's wrong?" He stood up, looking at her. "Was it earlier? Did I do something wrong?"

She shook her head frantically. "I-it's not- not you. It's someone- somebody else." She rocked herself.

"Someone else? Did somebody hurt you?" He asked, but before she could respond her mental barrier seemed to break briefly, as a memory washed over him, two large men. The memory was blurry, but her emotion in it- terror- was very potent. "Darling...?" He spoke as the memory was quickly shut out again. She was crying, unable to gain control of herself. "Who was that?"

She just shook her said, "No, no, no no no-..."

"Asra. If you can't say it, let me see."

She looked up at him with a look of horror, but didn't say no. He heard her give a shaky "Okay." before he felt her mental barrier slip. He found himself trapped in a torment of memories. Some blurrier than others, but enough to recognize the feeling. Assault. Lots of it. Years worth of memories of men, mostly this one particularly large half-elf. His heart sank, becoming heavy as it dropped into his stomach.

"Darling... this surely didn't happen, did it?" He was in denial. He didn't want to believe it. He knew she had nightmares, but this? She went through something similar to him, but from the memories it seemed... so much worse. The emotions, at least did.

"I- I-... w-was eleven, when it started." She choked out, and a lump grew in his throat. Eleven? He had been thirty-nine. And she was still so young, twenty-two now.

"Eleven? Darling, that's... who is that, your father?" He tested uneasily.

"No- his name- was- Huegson. H-he... took pretty good care of me. I think. He, sometimes would give me a few pieces of gold, I could buy an apple, or something." She gave a smile as she stared off with her wide eyes.

He just stared at her with sad eyes. "How long did it go on for?" Please have it be only a little while.

"Eleven years. Actually was about to happen again when the nautloid took me, actually." She gave a laugh that sounded half crazy.

His heart sank deeper, if even possible. Her childhood. Her innocence was stripped. That's why she always dazed off. Why she was so good at it. It was routine, it was a trauma response. Goodness, everyone in their little troop needed some serious therapy. "Did you tell your parents? I'm sure they would've helped you-"

"They're dead. the Loraine family, used to be nobles, killed eleven years ago in an arsonist house fire. I, their only daughter, was the survivor. And left homeless. I let those men do that to me. So I could get by. Of course I didn't understand at first what it even was, I found out quickly didn't I? Sometimes they'd let me sleep in his bed with him, so I wasn't in that alleyway. I would do it even more often in the winter so I didn't freeze to death, although I can't even say I had a choice. But oh, how easy it was to learn to say yes to everything! When I could say no to nothing at all." She had gotten up and paced during her rant, tears slowing down her smiling cheeks. When she was finished, she sunk to her knees and choked out a sob. She melted into the floor, and just... collapsed in a fit of tears and chokes. Astarion hurried over to her, scooping her limp form into his arms.

"Darling... it's okay." He murmured, sadness prickling his eyes as he pet her hair and kissed her cheeks. "It'll be okay. I promise."

[sol-paredes]

My thoughts now that i've finished it (spoilers for the whole game)

-hate that you cant make your character fat

-love the characters and how they are introduced

-kinda hate astarion sorry. Didnt do his quest cause he was mean to me.

-the absolute being a big ass brain was so fucking funny to me i cant explain

-lae'zel is a failgirl and i love her

-i fucked that squid and regretted it. Found out that if you dont have tentacle sex with him he shows you fucked up shit he did. Really mean tbh 👎 will side with orpheus next time

-theres not 17000 endings there's like 3

-lots of weird visual glitches at least in the low settings

-i spotted a few continuity errors in the dialogue but i can forgive that cause there's so many routes to take

-game starts with a really nice pace in act 1, then it becomes reeeeeeeally slow in act 2 and way too fast in act 3.

-The combat system is really fun i love casting spells and fireballs 💥 the fight against ketheric was really good but the other two were meh. So much hype for orin and then she does nothing and dies. And gortash is like if elon musk was a dnd character (i deactivated his iphone robots and killed him in like 2 hits)

-best luck to the tiefling kids i hope the giant brain falling didnt kill them

-omeluum my love. The highlight of the game im not being sarcastic. Extremely good character reveal he has 2 lines of dialogue and i'd give him a hug and help him plan his wedding with blurg.

-game feels half cooked in general. It's a reeally massive game and they should have given it a few more years

-karlach... I love you dude

-seriously the ending was really rushed

-the giant ass brain is cool as fuck though so its ok i guess

-but i wanted to see more. What will hapen to the githyanki now. What about the illithids what about avernus. And the grove's tieflings and all of the people we met. They just show you the yay happy ending screen where are they where is omeluum

-cant we just give karlach heart surgery please. I have revivify spells

-overall good game solid 785/1000 i will play it again and be a cool dragon this time. And also destroy the druids this time cause they suck. Will steal their idol and eat it

-also when your character is rowing the boat towards the final fight they're only using one oar so they should be spinning in circles

-omeluum

[sampirism]

Hmm sorry the more I think about the events of my ending in BG3 the more mildly annoyed I get and I'm not sure how much of it was bugs or writing. Spoiler warning obvs

Lae'zel: There was really no scene with Lae'zel and Orpheus discussing ending Vlaakith's reign, his goal continuing on even without him? Potential bug?? I understand he died or wanted to die now that he's ghaik but it feels like they were definitely supposed to have a moment before he kicked the bucket. I thought she was going to be the one to kill him. It's not like Voss and the rest of the honor guard are totally gone for good, right? Did they die off screen??? All I got was a "TSK'VA, because of you I will be on the run forever. I will thank you, but I will not stay." I can't even... encourage her to stay inspired in her fight against Vlaakith? Wish her well? Apologize?

Gale: I think I convinced him not to go slurp up the crown of karsus for himself? Unclear. I saw a comment from someone who romanced him who was thoroughly upset, because she thought she had convinced him otherwise from a previous scene, he told her he was doing it anyways. Ouch

Astarion: I can accept the bittersweetness of him reacting to the sun, as I strongly dislike ascension ending, but the fact that my game specifically bugged so that I didn't even get to tell him I wanted to look for a vampirism/sunlight cure together? sad :(

Wyll: Man, I feel like my Wyll bugged out forever ago. There was never any dialogue to discuss how Myzora was still hellbent on killing his dad because I saved him from the iron throne (and told Wyll to drop his pact) All I got with him was him saying how he appreciated my sacrifice? (I didn't... do anything... Orpheus became the brain sucker, not me) And him inviting Karlach back to Avernus, which is sweet... but WRT my feelings on

Karlach: How... utterly depressing for the most chaotic good, positive companion's endings be to die, go back to hell, or become a mindflayer. I love a tragedy, but when there seems to be so many scattered clues of fixing her only to never be able to go down any route? Her... final quest ending is... just killing Gortash? She barely even got to speak with him. The fact that I have so much infernal iron, the Gondians, Ironhands, Dammon, the steel watch implying her engine is similar to theirs-- but none of these avenues are further explored than a mild engine stabilization? Pls

Shadowheart: Her only contribution to the ending scene was saying "ah. poor astarion. no more sun for him" I don't know what this bitch (complimentary) is up to next. Same with Halsin.

Honestly, why was there no go around and talk to everyone I've allied with like the Duke, etc., in a place like Elfsong Tavern or the Wyrm Fortress or whatever? It was very abrupt and strange.

[galesdevoteewife]

Question about Zilvera's experience, and yours, with several quests and characters. Which are the NPC she liked the most (considering she must like them as a person or asset instead of as a character)? The one she liked the less? Any difference with the one you like and dislike? Also with the quests. Any that is fun to you but Zilvera would be like "yeah, I hated that adventure, I would never do it again" or the other way around?

Hi anon! thank you so much for the ask! <333 It's always fun to think of the story and these asks always made my day! A very interesting question!! Let me open up the bg3 wiki...

Zilvera in general holds neutral feeling and minimal opinion towards people. The few NPC that she has feelings for are:

✔️ Thaniel🌿

✔️🔪 Emporer, Gortash - liking them in a: "It'd be so satisfying to see you beg while bleeding to death" term

🔪 Vlaakith, Raphael - Similar thing for the elderbrain - Zil's fear of formidable threats often transforms straightly into a cruel, burning need in eliminating them.

Many NPCs I like Zil'd probably barely remember:

I think goblins are fun! (I especially like the one who was reading Volo's journal <3)

Lakrissa (Alfira's partner? bestie? The pink ponytail tiefling!)

Rolan's siblings

As for the dislikes I think Wulbren was an ass and I would never give the Ironhand to him 🙅🏻 But Zil wouldn't mind, as long as the leader is someone who she can work with. As for the quest I have one fits the I-enjoyed-but-Zil-hates description perfectly — the Iron Throne prison! They did manage to save all the prisoners including the duke, but Zil wouldn't lift a finger to help if not Wyll insisted and Gale thought it's possible. Also I imagine the place smells very, VERY FISHY with the amount of Sahuains, which is the smell Zilvera absolutely hate. So yeah she booked herself a room in Sharess' Caress and spend hours for bath despite Gale spell-sanitized everyone. She needed the luxury to calm her nerve. Sorry for taking so long for this, I had been obsessed with playing a NSFW game called Degrees of Lewdity this week! 🤫😂 It's free and so much content!!!

[emmy-dekarios-bg3]

Heart of the Weave - A Baldurs Gate fanfiction. Part 3

Chapter 13 - Gortash’s End

{find my full fanfiction pinned and linked on my page!}

“Give me the baby and I’ll give you an answer,” I mumble sternly, my brow furrowed to express my seriousness. “Please.”

“You are the worst at persuading. You lack common knowledge,” Ketheric growls, but smirks mockingly. What these men don’t know is that I’m trying to distract them from the next move I’m about to pull. I glance over at Karlach, who is standing over Fanden’s weak, tiresome body.

“Now,” I demand, and Karlach then curbstomps Fanden’s head, resulting in his death at last. If he had a chance of redemption, I would have reconsidered, but he sold all real, positive emotions to the Hells, leaving him with a hunger for murder. While Ketheric and Gortash turn their heads to Fanden, watching him die, Gale then consumes an invisibility potion and snatches our child back from the clutches of Gortash.

“You…you killed my son…My ONLY son!” Gortash’s eyes are shut tight as he clenches his jaw, his fists enclosed in fury. I can hear his heavy breathing as he fights the urge to destroy everything in front of him. “You realize, Emmy, that you’re no better than any of us. You’re a murderer, too.”

“I sure as hell am not perfect. I wish I was. I wish I could’ve given my baby girl a life to live. I would’ve done anything to give her a chance to grow up and see the world. If I didn’t sell her soul and grant her immortality, she would’ve been consumed by the devils. Fanden was unable to be saved. He sold his own soul to escape the sorrows of his mother’s death, but was granted a heart full of hate in return. He practically lusted for Bhaal. There was no way to change his heart, and killing him was best for the world. Too many innocents have been lost.” I take a deep breath as I fight the tears trying to escape my eyes. Gortash observes me as I feel the urge to cry, recognizing raw emotions on my face. I notice our friends staring at me as well, but with smiles on their faces. They know my intentions are purse and that I’m not afraid to admit I’m far from perfect.

“I didn’t want to kill him,” I add. “I would’ve loved to get to know him and be actual siblings. But I knew that wasn’t possible. I’m sorry it had to come to this. I’m sorry your parents ruined your entire life by selling you to a warlock. The past couple weeks, I constantly questioned what life would be like if you were never influenced by power. I forgive you, but I can’t accept you into our lives. We’re trying to be free from corruption.” Gortash and Ketheric exchange a diabolical glance, yet for a moment I can tell he regrets his past. A gleam within his eye appears to be glossening his eyes, as if there’s…tears?

“I can kill her,” Ketheric tells him. “We can take control again. We can take this power, be cleansed of our mortality and become immortals once more. Then you’ll never have to see me again.” Gortash is silent, hesitant even, but whatever positive thought crossed his mind, he completely snapped out of it.

“Let me handle this, Ketheric.” Karlach steps in to take Jenevelle from Gale’s arms; she must sense that our powers are beginning to rise and could unleash at any moment. Gortash then places his hands around my neck in a chokehold, staring heavily into the depths of my eyes. His grim smile quickly fades as we make eye contact, and he loosens his grip. It’s as if the evil left his body that very second and something within him changed. I see a tear run down his left cheek.

“My little girl…”

“What in the fuck is going on?” Karlach shouts, just as confused as I am. Memories open up before me like some weird vision. I see myself as a young girl playing in a field, which happens to be the one my mom’s home was at. My mother is cooking a delicious meal outside while I play, picking dandelions and putting them in my basket. I see a familiar man approach our home – Gortash. He needs to talk to my mother, but about what? My mother tells me to go inside, so I do. I later asked her who that man was and she told me not to worry about it.

Gortash can also see these memories that opened up between us. Who caused this? Me? Are my immortal powers revealing past secrets I forgot about?

“Oh, you were so happy. I kept suspecting all those years that you were my daughter.”

“ENOUGH!” Ketheric shouts, losing every ounce of patience. He whacks me viciously with the weight of his warhammer, though I feel nothing at all.

“Ketheric! Stop this at once!” Gortash pounces on him, pinning him down for a moment, glaring deep into his eyes. “Don’t you lay a hand –”

“Snap out of it, Gortash! You’re falling for her utter bullshit. She’s manipulating you.” Ketheric is behind all of this somehow, but why is he so offended? Now that I think about it, I did take away his immortality and killed him once before. I guess that’s fair. Gale and Wyll strike Ketheric with fireball, leaving him damaged and on his knees.

The power within me can no longer be contained at this point. My immortal powers, perhaps? Whatever it is, Ketheric triggered it. Gale and I both rise, levitating in the air from the build-up of energy within our bodies.

“Guys, stand back. Karlach, take that baby far away from here. This could get nasty,” Wyll warns her. “Honey, now!” Karlach bolts off with our daughter until I can hardly see her, and suddenly the fatal wave of radiant energy is released, bursting through my body, as well as Gale’s. I can feel the violent heat escape my body as it obliterates the evil I’ve been dying to destroy.

As I descend back to the ground, I stare mindlessly as Ketheric’s body burns to a crisp. Two out of the three are completely dead, but where’s Gortash? Did he manage to escape? Karlach comes bolting toward Gale and I with Jenevelle in her arms and hands her to me as she’s trying to catch her breath. I hold her tight, worried sick that I could’ve lost her. I try not to imagine the horrid possibilities.

“Oh Gods… I’m so glad you’re okay, little one.” I kiss the top of her head, feeling relief flow through me as I hold her close.

“The question remains: where did Gortash go?” Wyll asks. “He could be anywhere.”

“I…I don’t know…I thought we would’ve killed him for sure, unless he turned to ash.” In the far distance I hear a loud groan, as if someone is suffering. We all look at one another, realizing it’s Gortash’s voice.

“He’s over there!” Gale points to the left of where we’re standing and we notice him lying on the steps of Moonrise, covered in dust, bruises, and blood. As I walk up to his weak body that’s on the edge of death, I hand the baby to Gale for a moment. Gortash seems badly injured and I’m unsure how to feel.

“Emmy, I mean this sincerely… I really am sorry. No, it isn’t some scheme to take control and have all the power. When I opened my eyes after I found out I had children…” He coughs, releasing small puffs of ash from his mouth.

“Children or not, you got so many people killed in Baldur’s Gate. So fucking many. People were worked to the bone. You tried to kill Wyll’s father. You sold Karlach to Zariel when she was a child, and she had no choice in the matter at all. What you’ve done is unforgivable!” I take a deep breath, feeling rage and frustration as I try to contain myself. “I want to hate you. I wish I wasn’t even looking at you.” I notice a light smile curl on his face, expressing just an ounce of emotion through his dying body.

“But you have one thing I never had: a good heart.” He coughs some more, followed by an intense and heavy groan from the pain he’s in. “Damn it. Can you do me a favor and just kill me now? I’m hurting and can hardly breathe…”

Do I want to give him a death he’s begging for? Let him suffer slowly? If I let him live and get him the help he needs, I’d be betraying so many people close to me. Halsin walks up behind me and places his hand on my shoulder.

“Emmy, no matter what you choose, we’re here to support you.” His voice is so soothing, like a lullaby during a midnight sky. Karlach doesn’t look mad, but she looks as if she wants to let something out. If it’s toward Gortash, she’s keeping it contained rather well.

“Killing the man would hurt you and I can see it in your eyes that you don’t want to. He’s your father. Just know I’ll never be able to bring myself around him and if he causes mass destruction or even plans it, I’ll kill the fucker myself with my bare hands.” She’s fighting the urge to cry but stops herself by breathing in and out. While our friends seem to be alright with whatever choice I make, I can’t help but feel a huge weight sit on my chest. I look at my darling husband, who is unsure of how to feel about this predicament. He will not break eye contact with me, but he’s hoping I’ll say something.

“Be very careful and consider the outcomes of your decision,” he murmurs, gently rocking Jenevelle in his arms. “What’s on your mind?”

“I don’t want any sort of relationship with my father at all, but…”

“Whatever you choose, please make it quick. I’m fine either way, whether I accept death one last time or starting a new life elsewhere,” Gortash says with weakness in his voice. I sigh, feeling guilt and anxiety rip me apart from the inside out.

“I’ll let you live.” I cast ‘cure wounds’ on him, watching his body become restored to its former glory.

“You actually healed me?” He stands up, staring at his arms as they no longer appear to be bruised, then he firmly looks me in the eyes.

“Just know this, I will not have a bond with you. If you pull any crap like you did before, I will have no issues coming back to brutally murder you.” I can hear one of our companions gulp nervously as they stand behind me.

“Emmy, you’re a wonderful friend, but I’m not quite sure that was the right choice. You know what he did. You know what he’s capable of,” Wyll whispers. “Do what you must, though.” Wyll has a point. Am I letting Gortash’s manipulation tactics get the best of me?

“I will stay away if you wish. I’ve never been dishonest about my intentions. Yes I wanted power and corruption, to be at the top and dominate the city. Bane chose me, and somehow gave me another chance.” Before I can even respond to his words, Karlach steps up and gets just inches away from his face, her brow furrowed from anger.

“WHAT? You’re somehow a changed man and you regret your horrible life choices? You ruined my LIFE! You almost killed Wyll’s father! You…you…” Tears form in her eyes as she tries to find the right words to say to him. “You destroyed me.” Wyll holds her intimately, stroking her hair as she’s in his embrace and crying on his chest. My eyes glare back at Gortash.

“Nothing I say will be enough to–”

“FUCK no it won’t, Gortash,” Karlach interrupts.

“I’m so sorry Karlach.” It’s time I stop being quiet and test his faith, test his priorities and if he’s really the changed man like he says he is.

“Will you turn away from Bane? Will you continue to allow his influence? Your answer determines what is to come,” I mutter with a stern tone. He’s hesitant as he stares blankly at me, then just a moment after expresses sadness within his eyes. That look alone answered my question.

“No, I can’t. I’m… I’m so sorry.” Am I truly surprised? Maybe if this all happened before the fight with the brain, before he died the first time, I would have convinced him to change and turn away from Bane. The fact Bane gave him a second chance to live only made his bond stronger.

“I figured as much.” I pull out a dagger from my pack and swiftly stab him viciously in the heart, watching him gasp from the shock and sudden pain inflicted upon his body. “I should have known you’d never change, not even for your own daughter.”

[rinwellisathing]

You're Awful, I Love You: Part 45

This one's a bit shorter today for no other reason than I thought it felt natural. Enver Gortash/Trans Male Tiefling Durge

“-try” Gortash's voice shook Sentry from his thoughts. “Sentry?” “Yeah, yeah, that's...yeah..” The tiefling smiled, sitting down on the bed. “Sorry, I'm really tired lately...” Enver sat beside him, slipping an arm around his waist, hand finding its way to rest possessively on Sentry's stomach, right over the hand print he'd left there so many months ago. “You know why that is. You're the one who needs rest, my dear Executioner.” “Then lie down with me. I'd say we've both earned some respite.” Sentry replied, then, realizing his leverage here, added “I won't rest until you do.” “I'm hardly one to negotiate with someone trying to hold me hostage.” Enver snorted, shaking his head in amusement. “The way you presume to order Bane's own chosen about...” “You don't seem to have a problem with it when we're fucking.” Sentry smirked, raising an eyebrow and giving his lover an accusatory stare. Gortash raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, I suppose that's true. You win...” He kicked off his shoes and moved fully onto the bed, waiting for Sentry to do the same. The Tiefling acquiesced, removing his own pointed boots and laying back, swinging his legs onto the bed. Enver curled up against Sentry, resting his head against his chest, one arm around his waist. Sentry enveloped his lover protectively in his arms and buried his face in that messy black hair, inhaling the scent of Enver's favorite soaps and oils from his recent bath, rosewood filling his nostrils. Sentry's dreams were sweeter when he could breathe in his lover's scent and feel his warm body against him. Enver was seated atop a throne of corpses, expertly sewn together and preserved. Thousands more corpses were flayed or burnt and forever posed in prostrated positions far below, worshipping their ruler. Sentry stood behind the throne, gazing down at his masterpiece. Among the flayed, he counted Sarevok, Jackal, and all of those who had ever tried to force his body to bear father's army of assassins, all of them missing their tongues which had called him by that name, their eyes which had seen him only as a womb, and their cocks.

In Enver's dreams, tempered by Sentry's strong arms around him and the soft beating of his heart beside his head, He sat atop a golden throne, head rested lazily atop his knuckles. A dwarven woman with messy red hair tied back into a ponytail, body clad in cleric's robes, read from a scroll to a crowd that gazed up at Enver in adoration. Before the throne, just between Enver and the crowd, Sentry stood in his paladin armor, that cruel halberd he was so fond of shimmering with radiant energy. Kneeling and bound before him were two men, identical, with red skin and horns larger than any tiefling, red wings expanding from their backs, one wearing the garb of nobility and one who would not have looked out of place at Sharess' Caress. A grizzled old gnome and a dark haired dwarf in warlock robes were the final prisoners bound before The Tyrant. The Cambion in his noble attire was gagged as well as bound. When the pretty dwarf finished reading their crimes, Sentry stepped behind the prisoners, pressing his foot to the bound gnome's back, forcing him to the ground. One by one the heads of Enver's childhood tormentors rolled until finally, Raphael was the last one. Enver smirked down at his 'adoptive father' in this dream, meeting the Cambion's furious gaze. Sentry awaited Gortash's signal, and when it came...well, as Raphael had been so fond of repeating, the phrase practically carved into Enver's brain after hearing it before every. Single. Punishment...

Down came the claw.

Enver slowly opened his eyes, realizing Sentry was no longer beside him, he slowly sat up, blinking and yawning with a long, lazy stretch. He looked around, hoping the Bhaalspawn hadn't disappeared back to his home already, but was relieved to see that Sentry was sitting in a chair by the fireplace, one of his copper dreadfuls open on the table beside him as he leaned over reading. “Good morning, my Dread Executioner. I trust you slept well?” Enver slowly began to climb out of bed. “Mmhmm.” Sentry nodded, not looking up from his book. “Did you?”

“Yes, I had the most wonderful dream too...” Gortash smirked, closing his eyes and reveling in the last fleeting remnants of that image. “I always have sweet dreams with you, love.” Sentry grinned. “Maybe I should kidnap you after all, keep you at the temple as part of my menagerie.” “A tempting offer.” The tyrant sauntered over to Sentry and kissed him softly atop the head, taking in his scent, barely hiding the smell of blood and death was the surprising blend of patchouli and vertiver. “What are you reading?” “In this story, a druid woman is wronged by her village and takes bloody revenge in the form of a beast.” Sentry explained. “It's wonderful. I despise this fashion in so many books lately where vengeance is viewed as somehow unjust or the wrong decision. The idea that one should simply accept every indignity, every violation, in stride and move past it. As though strength can only be found in temperance.”

“We're in agreement, Dear Sentry, but I suppose the weak, misguided masses need some way to justify inaction, the things they allow to occur. A way to tell themselves that they're still righteous when confronted with the very horrors they allow to occur.” Enver mused, leaning against the chair. “No, vengeance is the path of greatness, you and I both know that. To see those who wronged you driven at your feet, the hope leaving their eyes as they realize how fate has turned on them.” He gave a satisfied smile, his mind returning to the dream.