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seahagart · 10 months ago

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Okay okay okay!!!

Drífa asks!!!

What did she think about Auntie Ethel?

Did she save the Zhenterim traders and help deliver the package?

How did she recruite Karlach and how did she difuse the situation between Wyll and Karlach?!?

Does she prefer hot foods or warm foods?

How much does she weigh???

Can other people draw Drífa?!? And post it with credit of course!!

Fave animal?!?

Biggest fear??

What does her dream visitor look like?!?!

Can we draw her interacting with other Tavs?!?!

Does she have any missing teeth??

What companion does she get on with the least?

Whats her opinions on marriage??

And finally and personally for me most importantly: if she was an animal, which would it be and why?

Thank you~♡

Oh my goodness! Thank you!!!

What did she think about Auntie Ethel?

I think she is a bit superstitious, doesn't trust her, but also is of the mindset that 'you made a deal with a hag, what did you expect?'. She is distrustful for things that are 'too good to be true'. She likes elderly women, so she probably liked her until it was put together she's a hag and then was weary.

Did she save the Zhenterim traders and help deliver the package?

She probably saved them, and then that was about the amount of interest she has, money doesn't really do it for her. She probably doesn't even remember that.

How did she recruite Karlach and how did she difuse the situation between Wyll and Karlach?!?

She saw a big lady on fire and was like 'wow... that is so crazy... ok anyway-' then once talking to her, probably likes her and notices her strength. Drífa was like 'Karlach, you only one that not small or fragile like others...' and recruited her. Then to diffuse the situation is like 'idk karlach seem pretty cool lady, seems like she's right' Drifa likes Karlach

Does she prefer hot foods or warm foods?

I doubt she could handle anything particularly spicy, but she likes warm meals.

How much does she weigh???

Probably like 500+ lbs, she's 8ft tall

Can other people draw Drífa?!? And post it with credit of course!!

Absolutely! I would be honored and want to see it!!!

Fave animal?!?

Bears. I think she relates to bears, especially polar bears, and sees herself as one. Solitary, only coming into contact with other in times of conflict or to mate. She believes herself destined to be alone, secluded, isolated, it is her purpose... not that she doesn't feel alone. She raises her 'cub' alone like bears do. I think she probably has a kinship while a female bear in the area who she used to want to kill but eventually it's more of a 'that bitch over there' with more respect. 'That bitch over there' eats the animals out of her traps, and takes her food, so she gets kinda heated and curses them out a lot.

I think she also like foxes and enjoys watching them, and birds, listening to their songs.

Biggest fear??

Losing her kid, which already happened. Her biggest fear was not being able to provide/keep her child alive, and then losing them to the wild, which happened (dw he comes back!) so after she experiences that, there really isn't anything she's really afraid afraid of. General fear is just being alone, never leaving the temple and eventually she won't be able to take care of herself. She is fully like 'ya when i get too old I'm going to walk into the woods and thats that' which to her is normal. I think

What does her dream visitor look like?!?!

Like a big mountain man, he kinda looks like pan. A big mountain man is the only person she's ever had intimate contact with, so that'd probably what she defaults to. But she does like people in all varieties :)

Can we draw her interacting with other Tavs?!?!

Yes Please!!! i love seeing her with other tavs! They can be friends, you can ship them, idc, I wanna see!

Does she have any missing teeth??

Probably, she's broken her tusks which grew back and are short because she uses them like a wild animal to open things, probably cracked a tooth, gotten a tooth knocked out falling down a mountain.

What companion does she get on with the least?

I think Laezel and even then I think it'd be because everything Laezel says goes over her head. She doesn't really know why she's so mad, or what she's talking about, but eventually I think they would get on well #warrior bond

I think she'd annoy the shit out of Astarion (not on purpose, just the way she is) and she would think he's a lil annoy... eventually though I think he is the first to get her to laugh and by laugh i mean she nods and says 'that was very humor'

Whats her opinions on marriage??

She is aware of marriage, doesn't really have any thoughts on it, doesn't quite get it maybe.... She doesn't have experience with romance, she doesn't really get the idea of loving someone romantically (I think she would feel it, and would do romantic things without thinking about it) I don't think she'd know what it feels like to have love or be loved, the first experience she has is with the people who raised her in the temple, left here there to guard it, never returned, and then her son. She'd need to be taught in the ways of romance, and maybe realize she wants that... I don't think she'd be interested in getting married, but if her partner wants to then sure whatever, she just doesn't have an opinion to it other than being confused why they want to marry her.

And finally and personally for me most importantly: if she was an animal, which would it be and why?

Polar bear hehe :)

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THESE QUESTIONS!!!

#thank you for the ask btw!!!#drífa

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guccipussay · 6 months ago

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Just found your blog and oh my god holly shit oh fuck i am out of breath your women are so beautiful and hot and strong and just slot into what i find so attractive and i love them so much and cawgirl karlach im dying i need her to save me (or some other beitiful woman haha 👀)

I adore how you draw and how they looks so effortlessly both sexy but also just natutal in a way? Like they're human beings who are also tits out doung stuff or posing for fun. I really want to complement your art but im lacking words to express it but its really good and made me geru happy to find your blog 💕

cowgirl Karlach was my peak I agree 🙏🏻

and thank you. I do always try to normalise seeing a naked body with it being erotic but not always sexual 🥹🎀

#this was incredibly sweet #thank u for taking the time to write me this

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bakuliwrites · 9 months ago

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Mirror, Story One: Vessel

Disclaimer: Post-Game Spoilers!!!!!!

Rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI) for Eventual Smut

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Relationship: Astarion x Tav (OC)

Summary: With Baldur's Gate saved and Cazador gone, Astarion and his beloved work to try to carve out a life for themselves. But freedom does not come without its complications and challenges.

An anthology of short, post-game stories featuring Astarion and my Tav, Orlando.

Chapter Tags: BG3 SPOILERS, ACT 3 SPOILERS, Fluff, Angst, Comfort, Grief, Mentions of Character Death, Depression, Telepathic Bonds, Kisses, Hugs, Karlach hugs and soft kisses from Wyll, Past Tav x Gortash, Ceremonies, Healing from Trauma

Read here in this post or over on my AO3

The streets of Baldur’s Gate are full of mirth, construction paused so that its citizens might celebrate the very fact that there is a city left to rebuild. They dress in their finest, flooding the streets with celebratory joy. Alleyways strewn with rubble are filled with dancing revelers. The air, thick with settling dust, is light with warbling song. And the night sky brightens with shimmering fireworks, sparks fizzling down into the harbor. Vendors sell delicious treats and memorabilia to remember the day Baldur’s Gate was freed from the Absolute. While the city proper is alive with good cheer, anticipation thrums through Wyrm’s Rock as people try to squeeze into the audience chamber, eager to catch a glimpse of the famed Heroes of Baldur’s Gate. They all murmur to one another, whispering rumor and speculation, peering excitedly at the motley crew of adventurers standing before the throne.

“I heard the Duke’s son made a pact with a devil and that’s why he has those horns now.”

“They look quite fetching on him, don’t you think?”

“Is it true that one of the Tieflings has got an engine for a heart?”

“Oooo, bet she’d keep me nice and toasty at night.”

“That pale elf is rather handsome, don’t you think? Mischievous looking, too. Bet he’s a boatload of trouble.”

“I’ve never seen a Tiefling with webbed ears before.”

“Rumor has it that she and Gortash were quite the item.”

Meanwhile, Astarion fidgets restlessly where he stands, a dour expression on his face. He does his best to entertain himself by tuning in to all the various theories being slung back and forth throughout the hall. There’s plenty of rumor, true or otherwise, to keep him distracted from the empty feeling that has pervaded him since he awoke this afternoon. As the sun sank beyond the glittering waters of the Sword Coast, Astarion found the elation of the last several weeks gradually emptying from him, like a slow leak in a cracked bottle. Has it really only been a little over a tenday since the defeat of the Netherbrain? Battling the Absolute feels like a lifetime ago, and yet, the deep exhaustion makes it seem as if Astarion and his companions fought only this morning. His sore muscles and creaky bones need months to heal. And his foggy thoughts, even longer. He feels weary already from this evening and nothing has even happened yet. It’s nice to be honored, he supposes, but it also seems, perhaps, a bit too much, a bit too soon. He’s hardly had a moment to breathe.

A gentle caress draws him briefly from his swirling thoughts. Orlando’s lips feather kisses along his cheekbones, sending a gaggle of young men and women into a bit of an uproar near the front of the crowd. She chuckles at their nonsense before cupping Astarion’s face in one hand and smoothing her thumb over his cheek. He leans into her caress, letting his eyelids flutter shut.

“You look lovely, my darling,” she whispers in Astarion’s ear, the tickle of her breath sending delightful shivers up his spine. The outfit he sports is one Figaro tailored just for him: a royal blue tailcoat with feathered, gold embroidery and a white undershirt with a frilled high collar. His knee high boots are made of black leather and have the slightest kitten heel. Orlando helped him pick the shoes, which are both comfortable and stylish, perfectly showing off his shapely calves.

Astarion casts a coy look at her, crimson eyes dragging up the length of her body. Orlando looks bewitching in her black and gold robes, swirling tentacles embroidered along her collar and sleeves. She is every bit a formidable warlock and sorcerer, enigmatic and not to be trifled with. And yet, her gentility shines through even her most severe apparel. Her dark hair, long now from many months of journeying without a haircut, cascades down her back in ringlets and waves. Astarion delicately tucks a loose strand behind her webbed ears. Her bioluminescent spots over her eyelids and on the shells of her ears twinkle in delight.

“And you, my dear, look ravishing,” he purrs, savoring the blush that dusts her cheeks. Before their flirtations can go much further, the din of the crowd softens as the grand doors are flung wide once again. Counsellor Florrick and Grand Duke Ravenguard make their way to the dais, taking their places aside the ragtag team of adventurers who somehow managed to save Faerûn from the doom of the Absolute.

Wyrm’s Rock lulls to a hush, silenced by a simple flick of the wrist from Counsellor Florrick. Astarion feels the eyes of hundreds fall upon him, upon his companions, and a sudden flutter of anxiety tickles his lungs. He shifts uncomfortably, hardly one to stand on ceremony. He cannot recall the last time he addressed a crowd as large as this. Back in his years as a magistrate, public speaking was not unfamiliar to him. But in the two-hundred years since, it has become nearly as foreign to him as the sun on his skin.

“Don’t worry, my love,” Orlando had reassured him earlier that evening, “Wyll’s in charge of the speeches today.”

Astarion hopes this remains true. It was already hassle enough to request this gods-forsaken ceremony be held at night, rather than in the morning like it had initially been suggested. He thinks of the hullabaloo that would ensue were he to open his mouth and flash the sharpened canines housed within. He can’t even begin to fathom the uproar that might occur were it to be discovered that a vampire spawn is one of the Heroes of Baldur’s Gate. Though, stranger things have happened, he supposes. Flying brains wasn’t exactly on his docket for this year. And neither was the adoring woman beside him, flashing a loving look his way just as the festivities officially begin.

The voice of Ulder Ravenguard drones in the background. Astarion is far too focused on looking poised to pay any attention to what the man is going on about. Praise, no doubt. Camaraderie and pride, blowing smoke, yadda yadda. It’s all well and good, but there’s a million other things Astarion would rather be doing with his freedom than sitting through some long winded speeches. The after party promises to be far more entertaining than the ceremony itself. Karlach has challenged everyone to a dance off, which Astarion would gladly pay to see (though he’s not sure he wants to participate). And the after-after party with Orlando promises to be a delight, as always. He catches her eye once again, smirking devilishly at the coquettish beam that plays on her lips. His mood brightens for a little bit after this small exchange.

As the evening wears on, however, the chilly emptiness begins to creep in again. An inexplicable untethered feeling; like he’s adrift in the ocean, unmoored and without direction. Astarion and his companions each gain a crimson sash, heavy with medals of honor and valor. Ordinarily, Astarion might scoff at something so- heroic. But in the wake of the vacuum forming in his chest, he feels a swell of pride when Florrick greets him with a smile, lowers the sash over his head, and moves aside to adorn Orlando with one of her very own. The crowd erupts into cheers, applause, the hall overflowing with joy, relief, elation. Astarion feels their energy burst within him, pushing aside the icy chill in his heart, chest filling with an overwhelming sense of gratification.

Until anxiety rears its head once again, sudden and without explanation; and all excitement peters out, a flickering candle snuffed out by rain. A thousand eyes on him. Eyes in the shadows. Lurking. But he cannot tell if it is something real, a malignancy out to get him, or if what lingers in the darkness are the ghosts of his past. He searches the faces in the crowd for one in particular, but he cannot find the narrow face of his master, the hateful glowering gaze. And why would he?

Dead and gone, he reminds himself, I killed him, myself. I watched him die.

Relief has not found Astarion, yet. He cannot help but look over his shoulder when he travels through empty alleyways. He cannot help but cower in the shadows at the slightest hint of sunlight. He winces at the sharp calls of hawkers in the market, as if their cries are admonishments for his failure and not promises of goods. His back prickles, tiny needles stabbing his scarred skin, the memory of a blade carving his flesh still poignant in his nerves. There is blood in his mouth, rat fur trapped in his teeth, the horrible crunch of bone when he bites down. Red eyes in the dark, eyes that aren’t there, but seem to leer at him from ages long gone. He has not dared venture anywhere near Cazador’s Palace, now abandoned, but still no less frightening.

When will it end, this feeling of paranoia? Shouldn’t it be gone by now? Shouldn’t Astarion be feeling the full rapture of his freedom? The full force of ecstasy that comes with the unshackling of his bindings? Shouldn’t he be feeling- happy? And not whatever this hideous, soul-sucking vacancy is?

Beside him, Orlando’s breath hitches in her throat. Astarion can feel that same lacuna in her, that same draining emptiness. Behind her soft smile is a deep sorrow, an immense exhaustion Astarion, himself, is wholly familiar with. Her eyes reflect a weariness etched permanently into her soul. He nudges her gently with his elbow while the crowd is distracted by Wyll’s rousing speech. They’re seated now, in one of the pews near the front. The Tiefling smiles weakly at him, intertwining their fingers when he slips his hand into hers.

“What troubles you, darling?” Astarion whispers, nudging at her thoughts with his own. They are forever bound, a telepathic link born not of the tadpole, but of Orlando’s eldritch heritage, a gift from her most generous patron. Astarion cannot use it very well and she is still learning, one toddling step at a time. But they each can use it well enough to pass secrets back and forth, or gossip from across the room at parties and what not. However, sharing memories seems to come easy to them both.

Orlando lets him in. The familiar exhaustion of months on the road is first to greet Astarion. He knows that feeling all too well. The constant walking. Gods, the endless walking and jumping and climbing. If he never has to hike again, he could die a happy vampire. Roughing it in tents, trying to find comfort in thin sleeping rolls, and bathing in whatever water they could find has sapped him of his vigor. It has been an absolute godsend to be able to sleep in a comfortable bed and bathe in an actual bath tub, even if it is at the Elfsong Tavern for now.

Deeper than this surface-level exhaustion, however, is a pervading sense of weariness in Orlando’s soul. The pain of her childhood: searing sunlight, brackish water, coarse salt, and jagged rocks. Harsh words thrown at her by a tyrant father, fleeing, and wondering if she’ll ever be safe. A brief reprieve, immense love, shared laughter with her mother and brother, the bustling harbors of Baldur’s Gate, the smooth ocean against her scales, freedom and independence. Confusion, uncertainty. And then darkness: trapped in a dank basement, confined to the shadows, lost and confused, separated from her loved ones, now the property of a devil. This all merges and congeals with the pain of loss throughout these last several months. Betrayal, anguish, ruin. Innocent lives lost, and for what? Tadpoles and brains and undead armies. The death of her father, a complicated and raw recollection. The severing of her tie to his despotic patron. Joyously reuniting with her own, M’aheth, Daughter of the Cosmic Sea. Being named Twin Star, honorary daughter. The pride that comes with such a title.

Orlando’s thoughts lift for a moment, recalling her relief when she and her mother and brother finally became free of their ancestral ties. But something Wyll says sucks her right back down into wallowing.

“Gone are the tyrannical days of Enver Gortash,” Astarion hears Wyll’s voice call out to the crowd. A soft murmur ripples through the room, some voices resounding in approval, others in staunch disappointment. That name is a complicated one amongst the citizens of the Sword Coast. For Orlando, it sparks an aching sorrow, a bereavement riddled with anger and shame. The memory of Gortash lingers strong in her mind, mournful and rife with confusion. Astarion feels this pain on the fringes of all her thoughts. Images of Enver as he was, youthful and mischievous, sweet and intelligent, gifting Orlando a tiny, mechanical figurine of a mermaid, flit before Astarion’s eyes. These images do not compute with the ones that follow: Enver lording over Baldur’s Gate, cool and uncaring gaze sweeping over enslaved Gondians, dead citizens, and pools upon pools of writhing tadpoles. Orlando’s mind struggles to contend with the sickening squelch of the metaphorical knife she plunged into the lordling’s back, an eternal curse falling from her lips out of anguish, a final kiss in his dying breath. Laying motionless at his side, for an engulfing eternity, staring vacantly into an abyss she almost couldn’t return from.

This abyss enshrouds Astarion’s vision for a moment. Suddenly, Cazador blips into Orlando’s thoughts, and it’s then that Astarion realizes the focus has shifted to his mind. The agony of stolen youth pummels him, sunlight bright and warm on his skin, a forgotten memory. Blank eyes gazing at him in a mirror, eyes he cannot remember the color of. Arrogance, pride, power in his early years as a magistrate. And then pain, body broken and mind fuzzy as he’s beaten senseless. Fear as he realizes he is going to die, and he is going to die alone, in some stinking back alley of Baldur’s Gate. Fear turns to hope- a figure emerging from the shadows, austere, angular face swimming into view, promising he can save Astarion. Promising an end to his suffering.

Icicles in his neck, pinpoints of pain. And then emptiness. Dirt, loam, stifling and cold. His fingernails bleed from how hard he is scratching the inside of- dear gods, this is a coffin. Screaming, wailing for someone to help, please help, he’s been buried alive. Clawing his way through the earth, the first sweet breath of fresh air, only to retch. Rotten blood burbles in his throat, foams in his mouth. And then darkness, for two-hundred years. Darkness and agony, self-hatred and ruin.

Orlando squeezes Astarion’s hand, drawing him back to the present. He sucks in a breath, as if he’d been holding it. As if he has any breath to hold. He re-orients himself. Wyrm’s Rock, ceremony, Wyll’s boring speech. Astarion settles, quietly pressing a lingering kiss to Orlando’s temple. He feels her mind almost sigh in relief. The contact settles her thoughts and the desolation seems to wash from her mind in a gentle sweep of comfort. Suddenly, Astarion is bathed with the rosy warmth of adoration. All thoughts of Cazador disintegrate, turning to ash and sifting away. Orlando offers up an image of a house he’s never seen before: built out of cream-colored stone, a lush herb garden skirting the perimeter, smoke rising from the chimney. Astarion feels cozy in this vision, the scent of rosemary filling his nose, lungs blooming with warmth.

“Your home?” he puts forth, limited to simple questions by their infant telepathic link. Perhaps this is her childhood home, the one she spoke so fondly of when it was just her, her mother, and brother. Orlando shakes her head, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Ours,” she corrects, squeezing Astarion’s hand. He ruffles her thoughts with his surprise, his excitement. He wants to ask her more questions: did she buy it already? Is this a house that actually exists or just the idea of one? What does she mean “ours?” But before he can, he feels her thoughts shift. Now, he sees the two of them on the road, packs slung over their shoulders, hand-in-hand as they traipse through a sparsely wooded area. Fresh air, bright and clean in his lungs, and a clear night sky. The world is aglow with moonlight, a silvery band of stars streaking across the heavens. There is a promise of tomorrow in this vision, of possibility. Of adventure.

“Adventure, with a home to return to,” Orlando posits, a well of joy overflowing in her heart, “Not ready to settle down quite yet.”

She winks, knowing Astarion is just as restless for adventure as she is. Though having a home to return to would be more than ideal (less hiking that way, more resting). How long has it been since Astarion had somewhere he could call home? Somewhere that wasn’t a dungeon or a jail. How long has it been since he’s been allowed to go where he pleases, when he pleases, how he pleases? They could go anywhere. Excitedly, images of Waterdeep, Chult, Neverwinter, Avernus, even, pop into Astarion’s head. Orlando stifles a chuckle from beside him, beaming brightly at the vampire’s enthusiasm.

Wyll’s speech comes to a close. Duke Ravenguard instructs his son and his companions to rise from their seats so that the citizens might thank them one more time. The audience chamber is filled once again with raucous cheers. Looking around, Astarion sees the faces of his fellow adventurers. His friends . He sees the faces of his fellow Baldurian’s, jubilant and proud. Astarion feels simultaneously overwhelmingly full and painfully empty. Cheers ring in his ears and it's as if all of Baldur’s Gate is pouring itself into him. The world is ahead of him. Life is ahead of him. Freedom. But there is something terrifyingly vacuous about knowing he is free. With both everything and nothing to look forward to. Where do they go from here? Astarion’s veins fill with an icy cold at the thought of having to carve out a life for himself.

Orlando gestures for Astarion to lean down, crashing her lips to his in a passionate kiss, thawing the anxious chill that had begun to numb his fingers. Astarion pulls her close, caught up in the exuberance of the moment, caught up in the reminder that he is not alone. Karlach, beside herself with excitement, tears in her amber eyes, pulls the little group into a massive, crushing hug. Warmth spreads through his body, fills his limbs with a tingling joy. Wyll squeezes Astarion’s free hand, presses soft kisses to his, Orlando’s, and Karlach’s cheeks. There is uncertainty, and that is the only thing Astarion can, funnily enough, be certain of. But in this moment, he is reminded that he will not be facing his uncertain future alone.

“Our home,” Astarion repeats to Orlando after a little bit, having to shout over the roaring applause, “Our adventures.”

“Our future,” she returns, stealing one more kiss before the adventurers are led out of the audience chamber, followed by shouts and cheers. People spill out into the streets, ready to spend the remainder of the night in carefree revelry. Astarion pauses at the threshold, the shining city of Baldur’s Gate ahead, his nearest and dearest companions at his side.

Deep breath. Release.

Wyrm’s Rock exhales, and Astarion is free.

A/N: Hello, everyone! I wanted to write a post-game story for my Tav, Orlando (a Sorlock), and Astarion. I've been a little bit all over the place with writing down her story (as in, I can't seem to write it down in any particular order). I have a couple things up on my Tumblr about her and I do plan to write a story that takes place during the events of the game. But for now, I had an itching to write some post game content, so here it is.

Some notes: this occurs post-game with Vampire Spawn Astarion, Orlando and crew managing to stabilize Karlach's heart (which I wish you could actually do in-game), and Wyll managing to rescue his father. Orlando was severed from her Warlock patron with the insertion of the tadpole, but has since reunited with her patron, M'aheth (the baby of another Great One patron called the Cosmic Sea). She comes from a family of Sorlocks that worshipped a cruel Fathomless patron, but Orlando managed to sever her ties with her family and the Fathomless. She and Gortash were trapped in the HOH together and were in an on again/off again relationship for many years. If you have any questions, feel free to ask! I'd be happy to answer. More info to come. I mostly wanted this story to be about her and Astarion adjusting to living a life of freedom. Most of this story will be about Astarion, but I wanted to give a little context for some things mentioned in this chapter.

*Edit (02/09/24): Changed a line about Gortash’s death.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #act 3 spoilers #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #astarion x oc #orlando moonwater #my writing #my fanfic #dani writes #wyll ravenguard #karlach cliffgate #postgame spoilers #fluff and angst #eventual spice #angst #fluff

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thetinyscald-blog · 11 months ago

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more karlach!!

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opheraphernalia · 1 month ago

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hello algorithm. it's me, Ophelia of @opheraphernalia . maker of many posts, in the majority of which i express my love for the bg3 characters Minthara and Karlach, and occasionally others. observe that they are both women. Now i would like to draw your attention to my banner. you recognize the flag, yes? the gradient stripes, the lesbicious colours of dawn? that is the flag of a lady who does NOT want to see any more FemTav x Ascended Astarion art, fiction, or really anything of that sort on her gay little dashboard. thank you and good evening.

#baldur's gate 3

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skuntank · 3 months ago

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pinned post ! : )

mobile link for my art clicky click : )

link for headcanons tag

hi i am billy i like to draw. i am 30+ and i dont care to update that number every year so thats as good as youre gonna get. so this means No Minors, otherwise i will block you : )

Official legally authorized super duper non negotiable for realsies #1 biggest fan ever of Cheryl Pokemon, Gardenia Pokemon, Hunter J Pokemon, and Diantha Pokemon ✨

My tag for sexual content is "the nasties" if that is something you need to blacklist.

I follow from my main, @hotshotshitshow , a blog that historically is supposed to be for my oc art

have some more stuff under the cut:

this sideblog is purely for me to indulge in fandom-based hyperfixations, post my art, and ramble on about headcanons. i am just here for a good time. and as is the nature with adhd and hyperfixations, my interest in things can change in a heartbeat and ive been known to go afk for months on end and then suddenly spring back like nothing happened.

youre not likely to find much of anything involving male characters here. this is a space that focuses primarily on women and nonbinary individuals and that is something that is extremely important to me*. that being said, this blog is 1000% trans safe and terfs and other such transphobes are not at all welcome and are invited to block me.

(*note that there are some exceptions made for some male characters that i love dearly, but they are absolutely not the focus of this blog.)

pokemon is and always has been the absolute love of my life and my faves from it are:

+ gardenia, cheryl, diantha, cynthia, rika, hunter j, cyllene, cogita

+ gaiashipping (gardenia/cheryl), phaesporiashipping (cynthia/diantha), geeta/rika, gothicrockshipping (roxie/marley)

other things of great importance:

+ karlach, karlach/shadowheart, any of the other bg3 ladies

+ sadie adler, sadie/molly, just about anything red dead related

+ noi, noikaido (dorohedoro)

+ midna/zelda (legend of zelda)

this of course is not an exhaustive list, but rather a list of what you are the most likely to see here.

i am always very open to discussing headcanons, its one of my very very favorite things to do but ive not had the opportunity to discuss headcanons in depth with anyone in a very, very long time. so please, feel free to drop me a line if you wanna jam, so long as its about a character or ship i care about im game : ) fwiw, pokemon is by far the franchise that is easiest for me to talk about.

please do take note that the more i love a character, the more likely i am to foist the most ridiculous headcanons on them lmao. i delight in ideas that buck expectations and putting my own weird spin on things, but do rest assured it is all out of a very deep love and appreciation for the character and is purely my take on trying to push them to the boundaries of their canon.

Additionally,

Just as an fyi I'm sorry to my mutuals whose posts I don't really interact with, it's a rule for me to not scroll through my dash on here because it gets me sucked into things that are Not good for me to deal with and just avoiding my dash altogether is just better for me. So consequently I don't really see what people are doing unless I go and directly visit their blogs and I always feel like sort of a creep for that shsksbs

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empress-hancock · 1 year ago

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People who draw ship fanart of the player character in BG3 with the other characters are cowards. Where is my fanart of the characters being held by the big beefy woman? Except Karlach I do want her to hold me. Everyone else though. I want to pick Shadowheart or Wyll or Astarion up and spin them like Dame Aylin does to Isobel. That was so cute. Where’s the screenshots and fanarts of the big lady, cowards?!!?! And where’s my fanart of Jaheira??? Afraid of middle aged women, are we? She’s hot! People either love or get rid of Astarion, Gale, and Halsin’s signs of aging, but even the people who love it refuse to give any love to Jaheira, who is objectively prettier than them. It’s Judith from FE:3H all over again. Gimme the middle aged woman!!

#they are cowards for not letting me romance Jaheria #also #i would like Halsin more if they had made him Irish it’s a crime he’s not #video game stuff

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ash-rik · 9 months ago

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Saw this tag game, but I didn't want to bother anyone so it's tagless. Feel free to do this with your bg3 ocs and tag me or not 🙈

Name: Boon

Pronouns: He/They

Orientation: He's a transmasc enby who's demi and loves women. Sometimes attracted to men but rarely.

Nickname(s):

Wyll humors Boon when he asks to be his sidekick. They're currently workshopping his sidekick name to go with the Blade of Frontiers because Crossbows of the Outback isn't cutting it.

When Gale cooks, he tries to explain magic theory to Boon, but only some of it sticks. They refer to each other as master and apprentice for fun.

Karlach will sometimes call him a rascal and ruffle his hair (they sibling bonded on sight).

Shadowheart calls him the idiot bard or just an idiot when he does something really stupid, which is often enough that it could be considered a nickname (they're besties).

Boon's heart warms whenever Jaheira calls him cub.

He gets hit right in the kokoro when Lae'zel starts calling him “my joy”.

Star sign: I dunno much about star signs but from a quick search maybe Gemini???

Height: 5'11

Race: Tiefling

Romancing: Lae'zel. They're the classic tale of opposites attract. Boon was drawn to her confidence and honesty, even if it's of a rougher variety. She speaks plainly, which is refreshing for someone in his line of work (thief). Her kindness takes a warped form due to her upbringing, but it's there. He sees it and tries to draw it out. He's gonna serenade that heart of stone of hers.

Favorite fruit: Grapes. He loves the crunchy ones and enjoys piercing into them with his fangs

Favorite season: Spring when it's not too hot or cold and he gets to feel the sun on his skin. Boon loves his crop tops and will go out walking barefoot in the grass or on the beach.

Favorite flower: I'm thinking violets. His mother was a follower of Lliira who favored them. She'd have violets all around the house. Boon has fond memories of tending to them with her.

Favorite scent: The smell of fresh bread and pastries always gets his mouth watering. His parents didn't have a lot of money, but the bakery was one place where they'd let him indulge on occasion.

Coffee, tea or hot chocolate: Coffee and tea. Coffee with a bit of milk and sugar helps him sleep. With tea, he loves that there are so many kinds and likes to try out new blends from different places.

Average sleep hours: He'll sleep for as long as anyone will let him. So it's more dependent on what's currently going on in his life. Being a thief had him up at odd hours and made him a light sleeper.

Dogs or cats: Both. Every dog he sees, they're a puppy in his eyes. Young or old, big or small, he's happy to shower them in a ton of affection. And he'll spend forever finding the specific way a particular cat would like to be loved and do just that. But if he had to choose between dogs and cats, probably cats. He enjoys figuring them out and being chosen by them. Also, all the purring is very calming.

Dream trip: Boon hasn't been to any cities outside of Baldur's Gate. He'd find it fun to take a road trip to the major cities along the Sword Coast.

Amount of blankets: Whatever number keeps him snug as a bug in a rug. He enjoys the feeling of being tucked in. Doesn't need as many if he's got someone to cuddle with.

Random fact(s):

Class: Bard/Rogue

His tail is very flexible and is just as prone to theft as his hands.

He just broke out of prison after getting betrayed by his crew when the nautiloid snatched him up. The crew took him in when he was a kid after his parents were killed, but they didn't think twice to make him a scapegoat. And they didn't really treat him well, which is something he slowly starts to learn and unpack while being with the tadpole crew. Despite being a bunch of weirdos, the tadpole crew treat him far better.

He mistakenly thought Chicken was the name of the owlbear cub because that's what they called him back at the goblin camp. By the time Halsin tells him the truth, the owlbear already responds to the name. Just hoot hoots on over whenever he hears the word chicken. The little guy associates the word with getting loved on.

His dream guardian looked a lot like his mom, which is part of the reason he started munching on tadpoles. The main reason is because he felt incompetent compared to the tadpole crew. You've got a wizard prodigy, a hero of the Sword Coast, a githyanki warrior trained from birth, a vampire spawn, an archdevil's champion, and a Sharran spy/warrior. Then there's him, just some guy with a lute and sticky fingers. He wanted to keep up with the others, be useful to them, and not drag anyone down.

Sometimes when he tries to get out of doing something he doesn't want to do, he refers to himself as “just a little guy”, inferring that he's not up to the task. This ploy works 0.5 percent of the time.

His parents named him Boon because he's a little boon to their lives given to them by the gods when they asked for a child.

#bg3 tav #oc boon #tav #this was fun to do and i always end up learning more about my ocs when i do these

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