#i'm still alive i've just been playing bg3

[lazylittledragon]

finally joining this party

[happy-beeeps]

Naïveté

Summary: Astarion begins to reconcile with the fact he might have fallen for you, only to worry you've caught an interest in someone else. Earllllllly act 2, minor spoilers for act 2!

Pairing: Astarion x f!tav

Warnings/tags: fluff, miscommunication if you squint, jealous!astarion, platonic!wyll x tav, slightly ooc Astarion because I'm still learning to write him so be nice PLEASE😭🥺

WC: 2k

a/n: I'm finishing a character sheet for tav so we can have her backstory, but she's who I've been using this playthrough and I've been really enjoying her story. When I post on Ao3 she'll have a name, but I'm going to leave her unnamed here! Also, will have a seperate BG3 spot on my masterlist soon!

It’s late at camp, and by the time you finish indulging in a bottle of wine with Karlach, you figure you’re the only one still up. It’s been a long night, and an even longer few days, spent trudging through the grimy depths of the Shadowcursed lands and just barely making it out of the encounter with Marcus alive. Isobel had given you the ability to travel freely, but all you could do was set up camp near the inn.

The firelight is dim when you make your way back from the secluded spot near Karlach’s tent, and Astarion’s tent is sealed tightly. You contemplate going over, just peaking your head in to see if he’s deep in trance yet, but you change your mind. After your previous night’s conversation, you’re still not sure on speaking terms. It plays out over and over again in your mind. Naive, he’d called you, your heart was too big. 

You tried to be reasonable. You were naive. You were young, and perhaps no one but Wyll new exactly how young. To be ninety as an elf was to be just becoming an adult. No one else had known, no else had asked, including Astarion. You chalked it up to his truly immortal lifespan, he hadn’t cared about aging for 200 years, why start now?

Still, you couldn’t deny the pull you felt to him, or the thrill that shook your bones when he would quietly rush into your tent each morning, murmuring the incantation for lesser restoration. You still thought of the way he looked at Gale when he asked to consume that locket all those days back. “I’m glad you let him suffer for a moment, darling,” he’d murmured into your ear that night, his breath tingly on your neck, “That one’s ours.”

There’d been other nights since your first night together, while you hadn’t slept together in completion since, all passion and teeth and sweat. Sometimes you’d just kiss him, wrapped up in nothing else but this bliss of arms and scent. Lately though, he’d been closed off—distant. His conversation the previous night had come out of nowhere, as if you were standing on the doorstep of Moonrise Towers that very instant. 

You were so lost in your own thoughts, consumed of Astarion, that you nearly missed Wyll’s form standing near the dimming fire, moving around in a dance you actually recognized.

“I hope I’m not interrupting practice,” you smiled, giving the man ample warning before you stumbled into his rehearsal. 

Wyll wheeled on you, a faint blush growing across his cheeks. “It’s one of those old courting dances, it’d be a cold day in the hells before I’d ever forget them.”

“Oh I’m quite familiar,” you murmured, thinking back to your own youth, your own debutante ball, before you lost everything. “Everyone else around here forgets I come from taste.”

Wyll snorts, “Sure don’t smell like it.”

Your friendship with Wyll is a special thing. No one else can understand what it felt like to be from a Noble family, the expectations and the experience it comes with. When your family had been killed and their wealth assumed, you were completely on your own. Learning how to pickpockets and lie had not been a part of your expensive and tasteful education.

Dancing, however, came second nature.

You move to stand in front of him without really thinking, decades of experience guiding your motions. “Go on, let’s see what you can do.”

He’s a fine partner, moving cautiously around you and guiding your hand easily. Even when he brings you closer for a slightly more intimate dance, his hands nor his eyes never stray. 

“I wonder what I’d have done if I ever saw you at one of the balls my father sent me too.” He murmurs.

“I’m certain you did. Though you would’ve been young. I haven’t been in nearly a decade.”

He chuckles, and clucks his tongue for a moment, “Just practically a baby, far to young to approach Fey nobility.” Before bowing in front of you and wishing you goodnight. There’s the smallest beat where he looks at you as if he has something to say. You look at him for the smallest moment. It would be so easy to love him, if you were anyone else. He’s exactly who your father would have picked for you, save his humanity. But, despite it, you can’t. You can’t fake the flutter you get when you Astarion’s cold hands tickle your fingers, or the tickle of his hair on your cheek when he’s pressed against your neck. You’re not naive enough to admit this to Astarion, but from the fleeting glance you send to his tent, you can see that Wyll already knows. He leaves you with a knowing glance and a soft goodnight. You go back to your own tent, happy to have removed the thought of the curse, of Ketheric, and even of your own problems for just a moment.

So full of contentedness in fact, you don’t notice the scarlet eyes peering at you from the slat of their tent, a whirlwind of emotions cascading over them.

* * *

Astarion doesn’t hide his mild disdain for Wyll, or anyone to be fair, to begin with, but the following morning he bears down on the man like an ogre. “I didn’t anticipate you being quite so light on your feet. The Blade stands at the ready, and also ready to pirouette, I suppose?”

Wyll rolls his eyes at Astarion’s quip, used to the sarcasm, but somewhat surprised at the intensity of the rogue’s grip on his arm. “Wasn’t aware I couldn’t have past times.”

“By all means feel free to entertain us with a ballet in between slaughters,” his voice hushes as you walk by, looking at the two men skeptically, “I’d just prefer if your duets didn’t happen whilst I’m trying to read.”

Wyll follows Astarion’s slightly fleeting to his retreating gaze. You’re standing behind him, out of earshot, leaning against Lae’zel’s tent while she sharpens your sword. Astarion’s stare is enough to allow him to piece everything together. “Can I give you a word of advice?”

“Only if you accept that I may ignore it entirely.”

“She’s wonderful. And she’s made her choice without giving anyone else a chance. If I were you, I wouldn’t waste it, wouldn’t kill you to get to know her.”

Wyll walks away, and Astarion is left alone again with his thoughts. Contrary to Wyll’s belief, he thinks it might actually kill him to get to know you. He’s been balancing precariously on his fight to not let himself be fully consumed by you and your grace, your goodness. You were a spoilt little thing, he was sure of that, and he had meant what he said that night by the water. It didn’t mean it hurt his chest more when your face fell. “Naive?” there was a crack in your cool, crafted facade. Genuine hurt had settled there for a moment, and something akin to disappointment. He hadn’t known how to face you since, hadn’t known how to say “I’m sorry! I’m falling for you and can’t help it and I’m terrified!”

So instead he said nothing at all, and resolved to say something later.

* * *

You had just gotten back to camp for the night, Karlach nearly giggling at the amount of gold she had stuffed in her pockets from the tollhouse. You had noticed Astarion’s eyes on you, heavy and pensive, when you had dealt with the Master of Coin, how easily you’d convinced her to simply cease to be. That was perhaps the easiest transition from nobility to rogue you had, the gift of a silver tongue and wide, batting eyes.

You changed into your camp clothes and watched Karlach throw gold pieces at an increasingly irritated Lae’zel, Gale standing nearby doing his best to keep spirits high in this eerie camp, working with whatever cured meats and cheeses you still had to attempt to make a dinner. You had changed into camp clothes and grabbed one of the books you had found in the tollmaster’s office, a shockingly smutty romance novel that had to be even older than you. It was quiet in the corner you found, somewhere even Halsin’s booming laugh had faded into quiet background noise. You tried to not think about your surroundings, about your increasing frustration with Astarion, or the odd way his gaze had hung on you all day. 

“I’m always impressed by that tongue of yours, petal.” The vampire’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, and he settled beside you on the ground, arms behind him as he reclined easily next to you.

You rolled your eyes at the innuendo, and the pet name. “Yet you’ve been leaving me and my tongue to our thoughts the past few days.” You huffed, flipping the book to the next page, though not really reading any of it 

If Astarion could blush, he looked as if he would. “We’ve been a bit busy darling. I’ve been…strategizing.”

“Strategizing?”

“Precisely.”

The quiet overtook the two of you. After being so distant, if he didn’t want to come to you, then so be it. You could not—would not–crack first. He could not even begin to know the bubbling furnace of your feelings, or you’d be positively done for.

“How old are you?”

His question strikes you, strikes you enough that you set the book off to the side and face him. “At what point did you start to ask me questions?”

“When I realized I had done something to anger my favorite companion,” his fingers reach out and trace small patterns on your skin. “How old are you?”

“Ninety.” Your voice moves to a whisper at the end of the word, and his eyebrows quirk.

“Only ninety and yet alone. And Balduran?”

“Yes, but I haven’t lived there since I was seventy five.”

“Something happened,” he rocks upward, now sitting nearer to you. “You weren’t supposed to be like this.”

“Perhaps that’s why I’m so naive.” It comes out more bitter than you meant, but oh well. He deserved it.

“Naive wasn’t the right word,” he looks like he’s fighting himself to turn out the next sentence. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

You smile softly, laying a hand on top of his. “I don’t know if I believe that, but I appreciate the apology.”

He grins, his deep set smile lines settling in your favorite way. “Tell me about your childhood.”

You shrug, “There’s not much to say. I was an only child, an only daughter. I used to play the lyre, learn languages, paint–”

“You come from nobility.”

“I sort of thought it was obvious,” you shrug and tap your knee against his, “I wasn’t supposed to be out in the middle of a campground, much less learning the ways of a rogue.”

“What were you supposed to be?”

“A wife, I guess.”

“And while I’m sure suitors everywhere are devastated, I much prefer my rogue.”

My. You don’t say anything and neither does he. You let the word hang there, testing to see if he reaches back to grab it, but he doesn’t. It gets quiet for a moment after that, and you can see him spinning the illusion in his head. You, swathed in organza, spinning around a marble ballroom, entertaining suitors. 

“Is that why you danced with Wyll?”

“Ah,” you smile and rest your head on his shoulder. You love these fleeting moments of intimacy, where you can both pretend to be nothing more than lovers on an adventure. “So this was spurred by jealousy?”

“As if I have anything to be jealous over Wyll. He wishes he looked half as good as me.” His words lack their normal bite, and he turns his head softly, so he’s speaking quietly, just to you. “But perhaps in the future you’d let me take you for a spin.”

You press your hand against his on the ground. “You need only ask.”

“I’ll… keep that in mind.”

There’s so much more you both want to say, confessions on the precipice of both your minds, but you say nothing. You idle together a touch longer, hands resting against each other, pretending neither of you can get hurt, envisioning a world where it’s him spinning you across the dance floor in a world where you could have each other.

[zwolfgames]

Idk, but I think bg3 reader would try to leave the group, if they know about their yandere personalities, lol. Please, your bg3 works are so good. I expect the new one

(So, not a continuation of the last drabble. This is hypothetical for now. Also it deleted my answer the first time :( so this is try two, it may seem a bit rushed. And I got a bit off track, woops.)

Warnings: mentions of yandere stuff I suppose.

Y/N in this au (aka teen tav) really isn't stupid, sure they grew up in a village with just their mother and pulled random spells out of their ass like a true sorcerer, but they're not stupid.

The party started with variable reactions to a minor in the group. Act 1 doesn't showcase a lot of Yan tendencies due to everything still going kind of fine and everyone getting to know each other.

The yandere part really starts in act 2 when they enter the Shadow cursed lands. Unlike the normal region of act 1 are the Shadowlands riddled with danger.

The party quickly gets their wake-up call after things like Kar'niss (who gets his little momemt) and the other bosses and dangers. Katherine Thorm, being a threat, also doesn't help ease the party's feelings.

The group would go from silly to way more protective in act 2. But Y/N can't do anything about that yet. The shadows would eat them alive, or someone else could get them. Better left with unease rather than dead, right?

I've purposefully mentioned Y/N's mother in the drabbles to show the main goal of the reader, which is to return to their mother. This goal is being held back by a party of people who no longer seem intent to part ways with you once this is over.

Sure, Y/N wanted their cool adventure with heroes like Wyll Ravenguard, but staying with them permanently? Haha... no.

So after the wake-up call of act 2, Y/N would take their chances at escape in Baldur Gate. The thing is, though, Y/N isn't from Baldurs Gate. They don't know the alleys like the back of their hand in the same manner that Astarion does. They didn't grow up playing in the secret passageways like Karlach...

This is a dangerous game you're playing. The more you wiggle, the tighter their hold. It's just how it goes with people who have faced enough to lose it.

They handle you in different ways, of course.

Wyll, Gale, and Halsin strike me as the type to have wanted to protect this poor kid from the start, so their resolve just strengthens to unnecessary levels. You wouldn't mind just being carried to bed by a bear man, would you? He knows some good elvish lullabies.

Lae'zel is her own separate category, she's a githyanki, they have very diffrent ways then most folk on faerun. I'm basing her motherly ability on the prologue where she raises the gith egg. She may not be affectionate, but she does not want you out of sight. Expect training.

Karlach and Astarion surprisingly go together here. They don't seem like the parental type. More of an aunt/uncle. Would try and stay your friend. Guiltripping from Karlach that she may or not be aware of herself, and straight up manipulation from Astarion. They both had a bad past. You can stay, right? As a little gift from the gods?

Shadowheart didn't like you from the start, not a fan of kids. Her yandere strikes a lot later. First, she had only been worried about your health as a cleric. After her arc at the end of the shadow cursed lands (freeing Dame Aylin etc) she gets a bit of that parental feeling nonsense too. Though I'd say she shows it the least. You'd be tricked easily into thinking she's the only normal one in the party.

Minthara, I'm unsure if I can find a good way to let her join, but she'd be similar to Lae'zel, just crueler and definitely bot secretive about her want for your stay. If you ask her directly, she'd just plain out and say that if she catches you, you're getting bound.

Jaheira, natural mom, she's got kids, protected the kids. Don't expect her to be sweet, but you're definitely not going out of sight.

Minsc joins in Act 3, so really, he doesn't have the time to get to know you, he's funny, you're funny. Friends. Not that the rest appreciates the time you spent with him. They're scared you're gonna make up a talking animal next.

All in all, Y/N would try and escape. It just isn't very likely to succeed. If you get far... well, there are other beings out there still after you, you know?

Just forget your mom. Aren't they better family now? Your mom didn't teach you spells, did she? Or swordplay? Maybe how to make balms?

Cmon, they're the best option. Stay.

Just an answer lol, hope i didn't make anyone too OOC with just this. Xd.

[y-rhywbeth2]

Something I love about BG1+2 is how it simultaneously plays and subverts the demigod/chosen one narrative (which continues in BG3, except with only the subversion. (And Halsin is not joking when Durge tells him what they are: Do NOT advertise that you're a Bhaalspawn.))

I've always been fond of the set up in Saradush in ToB, where the surviving children of Bhaal are being corralled into the besieged city under promise of protection against the entire world - because basically literally the entire world is trying to kill the Bhaalspawn: Your more powerful siblings want you dead; your mortal neighbours, and likely your nation itself either thinks you're inherently evil and are ready to kill you, or you represent such a threat that they're ready to drive you out and/or kill you just in case. Case in point: the aforementioned siege outside the city walls with the army that wants you dead currently raining giant flaming rocks of death over your head.

Some of these guys have no idea what they are, or what's happening, until attempted murder happens.

Like this discussion with one of your random brothers, a guy called Alexander:

Alexander: "You don't look like one of the locals. Are you a child of Bhaal as well, lured here like the rest of us to face our inevitable end?" Charname: "As well? What do you mean?" Alexander: "I myself am one of Bhaal's progeny - or so I've been told. I guess Bhaal's blood runs thicker in some of his children than in others." Sarevok: "By your snivelling manners, I would say Bhaal's blood runs very thin indeed in your veins. Bah-why do I even waste my breath tormenting this cowering cur?" Alexander: "Uh... is there anything else I can help you with?" Charname: "How did you get here exactly?" Alexander: "I wasn't brought here by Melissan, like some of the others. My home village was burned to the ground by a dragon who claimed to be hunting me. My friends... my family... they threatened to give me to the dragon if I didn't leave. So I did. And I heard a lot of other Bhaalspawn were coming here. *sigh* Now I almost wish I hadn't come."

Spoiler alert: He dies. Every single Bhaalspawn in that city dies*, along with everybody except a handful of commoners (*except maybe Viekang, who was not particularly inclined to murder me, so Murder in Baldur's Gate is weird.)

You, a simple peasant from a farming village one day come of age and learn that your absent father was a god, and you are forced to flee forces that are trying to kill you (in this case, your much more powerful half-brother)... it sounds like the start to some kind of fantasy epic, but instead of any fancy destiny you end up in a war torn city surrounded by castoff divine bastards just like you, terrified and unwanted, and then you die, and are forgotten.

And that's what being a Bhaalspawn is!

Whatever grand lies Bhaal tells you in your dreams about how you're special and great power awaits you (if you behave and do his will), your job is: sow death, faith, fear and chaos wherever you roam, strengthen Bhaal's power, and then be a good child and die for Father. No exceptions, save perhaps one, who is explicitly a special prophecy child, and even then is supposed to be doomed by future FR canon because they're still Bhaal's "pawn". There's also Imoen, who might be spared simply by proximity to said prophecy child keeping her alive. Non-game "canon" screwed her over hard. (FR canon and I have a complicated relationship, it must be said. All copies of those books are to be ritualistically burned.)

idk where I'm going with this, I just love how bleak the situation in the city is. No grand destinies, only a discardable pawn to be used, abused and consumed.

...And also that part where Tethyr sends an army to kill you because obviously you are guilty of "crimes against [Tethyr] and, indeed, all of humanity!" by supposedly killing a whole city: They admit they can't prove it, but you're a child of murder, you were born guilty even if you didn't actively do anything.

No, really:

General Jamis Tombelthen: "You are guilty, [Charname]. Of this there is no doubt. And we will not risk your further endangerment of us all. You are a spawn of Bhaal and responsible for the destruction of the city of Saradush*. Your execution has been ordered, [Charname]. May the gods have mercy on your soul."

* I implore you to move with great urgency to intercept the Bhaalspawn before they can do any more damage. Whether or not they are responsible for what occurred in Saradush, we cannot allow them to continue and cannot afford the time for trial... - Tombelthen's orders, courtesy of the Queen of Tethyr

[lemonsrosesandlavender]

It makes me so sad so many are leaving the fandom. I mean i get it interest come and go but I feel like I'm just getting started with bg3 and people are leaving....

surveys fic and art ideas list

I promise you, I will be feral about this game for a long time to come! There has not been a single day since I started playing BG3 (a year ago!!) that I have not thought about BG3 - and, a little time after that, Rolan.

It is, as you say though, the nature of the beast - fandoms come and go, and I count myself very lucky to have surfed the BG3 wave at its peak and seen the explosion of creativity that resulted. But none of that creativity is gone! It's still there, lurking in the tags, and so are many of us :) I am grieving it a little, knowing that the fandom is fading (and that I have so much more I still want to write and draw!) - but I think it'll still exist, because this game inspired people so much. It'll just be a smaller core of fans. (And honestly, I know for SURE there are still lots of very active fan communities. The rarepair folks are as busy in the kitchen as ever, for one).

You're also not the only new person, nor will you be the last. I've seen lots of people on Tumblr pick up this game in the last few months - I know IRL friends who've only just started their BG3 playthrough, more than a year after it came out. And it's such a big title that it will certainly keep bringing in new people, even if it's a trickle instead of a flood. Hell, on AO3 over *250* BG3 fics have updated since yesterday, and 2863 in the past month! This fandom is still alive and kicking, just a little less buzzing than before.

Anyway. I feel your grief - but I'm also happy that you're joining us. Being part of the fandom here on Tumblr is a joy, and as long as I've got people to share it with, I'll be here - even if it's just three of us in a circle, shouting our favourite characters' names on repeat.

[xpao-bearx]

This is dedicated to the absolutely beautiful hooman bean @basketobread 💕 They are truly one of the best people I've EVER met and has such a kind, wonderful heart!!! Furthermore, all of their artworks are literal ��️MASTERPIECES✨️ They and their works are a constant source of joy for me and I just got inspired to write this very short, very simple fic of my BG3 Tav and their much beloved character Lunara meeting 🥰 It's not much, but I hope y'all like it and I hope even more that I did Lunara's amazing character justice! This is also my first time writing my Tav in a story format so it's great practice and an opportunity to flesh her out more before I post my fic of her and Astarion :)

More about my Tav here + this is the song she's singing in this story (and fun fact: I headcanon the singer to be my Tav's voiceclaim!) ❤️

Fic is under the cut and thanks sooo much for reading!! \(^o^)/

Darkness consumed the drow cleric's entire visage. A darkness that reminded her of her past in the Underdark; a waking nightmare she miraculously escaped, forging a path of her own, under the light and guidance of her Lady of Silver.

But this time, she feared that this smothering darkness would be...permanent. She could feel herself blinking, yet only blackest black and the stinging prick of her tears greeted her. She felt the ground beneath her and she doesn't think she broke any bones--or so she hopes--but she couldn't move. There was a looming heaviness in her chest and ice gripping at her heart.

Is she...dying? Eyes fluttering shut, she's resigned to her paralysis, but has not given up hope.

Because fuck that, she's most definitely not a quitter.

"M-My Lady of S-Silver..." She murmured, weak in physique but ever strong in her faith. "P-Please watch o-over me, h-help me overcome..."

She hasn't the faintest clue how long she stayed like that, strengthening herself in prayer, though eventually her ears perked up at the sound of...footsteps?

Something--or, rather, someone--sat next to her. She heard some shuffling then the soft strum of a lyre being played and a beautiful, soothing voice reverberating in her head.

"Flower, gleam and glow

Let your power shine

Make the clock reverse

Bring back what once was mine"

As the mystery songstress continued, she could feel power coursing through her veins, slowly but surely. She blinked once more and faint spots of light danced amidst the shadows.

"Heal what has been hurt

Change the Fates' design

Save what has been lost

Bring back what once was mine

What once was mine"

She felt her fingers twitching, toes wiggling; and, like a flower blossoming, she rose. She let out a sharp gasp as she sat up, chest still heavy but not as excruciating as it was before.

She's alive.

She blinked rapidly, perfect vision returning. She had hardly a moment to gather her bearings when someone's voice rang excitedly.

"Holy hells! I'm so glad you weren't, like, completely dead! Good thing I saw you just in time!"

Her gaze landed on the young woman before her. A half-drow with a smile as bright as the sun and mismatched eyes (one, she noticed, being a rather unusual blood red with a prominent scar across it). She was pretty--ahem, very pretty, might she add--but looked worse for wear. Something she was sure she looked, too.

Before either of them could say anything else, a migraine hit them both like a spiked club. They both cradled their heads in their hands, fragments of a hellish nautiloid swirling in their minds, waiting for the pain to pass and their eyes meeting in recognition.

When it finally did, the stranger piped up once more.

"Oh, wow, we're parasite pals!"

Despite the situation of it all, she laughed. A welcoming warmth radiated from the strange stranger, enveloping her and easing the tension of all of today's utter bullshit. From being kidnapped by godsdamned Mind Flayers to being infected by a disgusting parasite, she laughed and felt comforted that, at the very least, she was not alone.

"Indeed we are!" She grinned before holding her hand out. "Thank you so, so much for saving me! My name is Lunara and you are..?"

The stranger beamed, shaking Lunara's hand and her other hand making a theatrical waving gesture. "Mon'sun, at your service, fair maiden! Perhaps you've heard of me, perhaps not. The tale of my titillating life is still being written, you see~"

'Ehe. TIT-illating.' Lunara thought to herself, letting out a small chuckle before clearing her throat. She was a toootally mature adult, after all.

"Well, Mon'sun, Selûne's blessings upon you!" Lunara did a half bow, mimicking Mon'sun's theatrics which Mon'sun definitely approved of. "Besides your incredibly kind and gracious act of saving me, I'm positive my Lady of Silver led you here for a reason. What say you we band together and find a cure for this parasite?"

"Oho, asking to team up so fast? I would say take me out to dinner first, but I'm pretty easy sooo..." She joked, making a show of thinking before gasping dramatically, pretending to cry tears of joy. "Yes! A thousand times yes!"

Lunara just as dramatically placed a hand over her heart, sniffling. "Thank you! I promise to make you a happy woman!"

As they both stood up chattering and laughing away, preparing for the thrill of adventure ahead, Lunara noticed she was missing her coin pouch.

"Have you seen my coin pouch? I could've sworn I had it tied tightly around my waist, so there's no way it could've fallen off after the nautiloid crash." Lunara questioned as her purple eyes darted around their surroundings, ash and smoke rising from all the debris.

"Perhaps it burned away from the flames of the crash." Mon'sun replied smoothly, helping Lunara seek for her humble riches.

(Pssst, Mon'sun is lying and has Lunara's pouch in her pack, but she rolled a Nat 20 on ✨️deception✨️ sooo...)

"Well, nevermind then!" Lunara shrugged, smiling. "I'm sure our Lady of Silver will grant us great blessings for our journey. In fact, she has already bestowed upon me a most wonderful blessing in the form of a kind, trustworthy new friend!"

Narrator: *As the two drow kin embark on their perilous quest to free themselves of their parasites, a haunting voice echoes deep within the recesses of Mon'sun's mind; her own parasite. One of a different, godly breed taunting her--tormenting her.*

"Do you wish to find comfort in the presence of another inferior god, spiderling?" Lolth cackled, cruel music flooding Mon'sun's ears, vicious mockery only she can hear. "Such foolishness will only bring about disappointment...much like your new companion. But I am here, spiderling. Always watching. It is only a matter of TIME for you to bathe in her blood."

Mon'sun abruptly stopped in her tracks, shutting her eyes tight, nails digging into the palms of her hands that nearly drew blood as she willed the spider goddess to not so kindly fuck off. She was used to this by now, the lure of Lolth's appalling temptations always merciless, sickening, and...gratifying.

But no. She will never ever give in. Absolutely fucking NOT!

"Are you alright, Mon'sun?"

Mon'sun's eyes snapped open, sweat beading down her temple and wide, frantic eyes landing on Lunara, a few feet in front of her staring at her in concern.

"...I forgot!" A beat too late, a beat too nervous. But thankfully, Lunara didn't seem to notice it, only watching in curiousity as Mon'sun rummaged through her pack that was literally ripping off the seams.

Mon'sun then procured a small purple pouch, smiling sheepishly as she handed it to Lunara.

"Apologies, friend. I stole picked this up earlier and just remembered it now. This must be yours, yes?"

Lunara caught Mon'sun completely off guard when she launched herself at the other girl, wrapping her arms around Mon'sun.

"Oh, our Lady of Silver truly blesses me! Thank you, friend, your kindness knows no bounds!" Lunara giggled.

Mon'sun was still for a few moments before returning the embrace, laying her head against Lunara's chest. Her bardic ear listened close, the faint thrum of Lunara's heartbeat--as lovely as its owner--lulling her to a wonderful sense of security.

No matter how temporary.

[haru-sen]

Through the Gates of Horn and Oak

Caught the BG3 Brain Rot AND a deep love of the tieflings, hithero referred to as "my cabbages!" No, seriously, I've been screaming about them like the guy from ATLA.

Anyway, WIP preview, playing with some Tav X Zevlor, which will eventually be some Zevlor X Halsin, and maybe some poly dynamics. Look, I just want to poke sad old men with a stick and then feed them cheese.

This preview has light spoilers for early Act I side quests. I have not beat the game, I'm still in Act 3, so please be mindful of spoilers. This is spicy but not explicit.

“How do you do it?” you grumbled, perched on a crate and resting your forehead on the cool stone table, your eyes closing as you reviewed your day. “From harpies, to bugbear assassins, to evil druid-controlled child-tormenting serpents, how do you keep these people alive? I mean, honestly, Zevlor, I’ve only been at it for like a day, and I’m exhausted.”

Zevlor, the tiefling-wrangler in question, gave a dry humorless laugh. “You assumed it was easy?”

“No,” you muttered. “I’m just gobsmacked by the sheer variety of ways they get into trouble. You have my deepest respect and my most heartfelt sympathies.” You stayed facedown while you spoke, which might have detracted from the authenticity of the delivery, but alas.

About a meter away, Tilses snorted. “Have you met Mol yet?”

“Have I met Mol?” you laughed, and it might have been a sob. “Have I met the future legendary patron of the Thieves Guild, you mean? Have I met a force of chaos constrained in a tiny tief package? Have I counted my purse half a dozen times today? Where do I even start?”

Zevlor groaned, clearly not interested in delving into that subject.

Tilses laughed. “You should have seen the time she-”

“Tilses, it’s getting late: you don’t have to stay,” Zevlor said.

“But-”

“Tilses, it’s getting late: you’re dismissed.”

You didn’t need to use your illithid powers to read the subtext in the room. Small talk aside, Tilses didn’t want to leave Zevlor alone with an outsider. Zevlor, however, didn’t seem worried. It could be that he thought you were trustworthy, but it was more likely that he knew that it didn’t matter if she was here. If you decided to turn on him, her presence wouldn’t make a bit of difference.

You could picture his expression easily, that no-nonsense frown, accentuated by the severity of his hellfire eyes and sharp ridged bones. He wasn’t exactly scary, but he had a quiet dignified gravitas that you and Tilses lacked; the kind of man was used to being in charge. Still, Tilses wouldn’t argue, not with you here.

“Understood, sir.”

Military discipline was a hard habit to shake, or so you heard. You smiled as you as her steps faded in the distance and the stone door grinding open and shut. And then there were two.

“I don’t blame you for Mol,” you said. “Obviously, the circumstances are shaping that one, and it would take more resources than you, me, or the entire Grove has to alter her trajectory.”

Zevlor sighed. “...I don’t think I’m capable of discussing Mol’s future right now.” There came a soft grunt and you didn’t have to open your eyes to know that the tiefling was sitting on the table across from you, just a few handspans away. If you lifted your head, he would probably move away, so you stayed there, the slight dissonance of his aura making your ears ring. You didn’t mind though. Things that might have bothered you a week ago couldn’t really match up to a godsdamned mindflayer tadpole swimming through your brain.

Some tieflings possessed a discomforting presence, akin to knowing you were being stalked by an apex predator, or that feeling of something alien crawling across your skin, or that screaming gut instinct that warned you when truly dark magics were abound. It was an involuntary inheritance, a side effect of being part devil, or at least having their human bloodlines tainted by a Hellish pact. But you knew better than most that biology didn’t override character.

Zevlor was a striking model of an Asmodeus tiefling: deep red skin, sharp features, and a pair of thick black horns twisting out of his skull. From what you heard, that strain got well and truly screwed over by their progenitor devil lord’s plotting.

“Would you like something to drink?” A cork popped and there was the clink of metal cups sitting on the table.

“Is it poison?” you asked. “Because I’ve got some lovely wyvern poison of my own. No need to dip into your personal stores.”

“That would be a poor repayment for all the help you’ve given,” Zevlor said, his tone mild.

You didn’t think he was offended. Hard to say. He was difficult to read, unless you decided to use your illithid powers, but then- People didn’t like it when you did that. You didn’t always like it when you did that.

He poured the drinks, and you slowly raised your head, lured out by your own dry mouth.

Zevlor was standing now, he gestured to the uncorked bottle, which sat beside the cups in front of you, all of it available for your inspection.

“Ashaba Dusk?” you asked, sniffing the common wine.

“It’s not so bad,” he said.

It figured that he liked red wines. You wondered if he smoked a pipe too. “You seem like the type to prefer a Gulthmeran Reserve.” It was a dryer red, complex with stronger mineral taste. Something suited for the palate of a stoic older man.

Zevlor’s lips twitched. “Is that so?”

“Am I wrong?”

“I wouldn’t say “no” to a bottle. But finding one out here might prove difficult,” he said as you chose your cup, pretty certain that none of it was poisoned. After all, they still needed your help dealing with the goblins, defanging Kagha, and rescuing the Archdruid. Logic made rationalization easy, even though you had no logical reason to be here alone with this man.

The wine wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good either. You drank it though. Today had been long, and you weren't going to turn your nose up at his hospitality.

The two of you finished your cups and sat in an almost comfortable silence. Your shoulders lowered incrementally and you basked in his calm company. You were on your second round of refills before he spoke again. “Was there something you wished to discuss?” he asked, fixing that burning stare on you.

Your stomach flip-flopped, but you just raised your cup and took a drink, buying yourself a few seconds to compose your words. “Just enjoying the ambiance.”

His brow furrowed, and he looked around the cave, clearly trying to figure out what you were referring to. The air in the chamber was cool, there were a couple shelves lined with books, and the candlelight was warm and golden. There were no fleshpits, no bloodstains, and nothing was trying to kill you. Best of all, you could not hear Shadowheart and Lae’zel bickering. To be fair, Lae’zel sniped at everyone, but Shadowheart got so damn shrill about it.

“Look, my...friends are nice and all, but sometimes they’re a bit much,” you said. “I’m taking a break from being mediator.”

“Ah,” he said. He rested his chin in his hand, thoughtfully. “I can lend you the chamber. Would you like some privacy?”

You winced. “No, no, I’m enjoying the company too.”

“I see,” he said, brow furrowing momentarily. He refilled your cup, sitting on the edge of the table farthest from you.

You studied the map of Elturel on the desk, while sipping your unpoisoned wine. And then a thought occurred to you much too late. “Oh gods, I’m intruding, aren’t I?” you groaned. “Look, don’t feel obligated. I’ve found a ton of great hiding spots in the Grove. I can take a dip in the sacred pool. There are some very private corners in the library. Hell, I can even go camp out with Mol.”

“...Don’t do that,” Zevlor grimaced.

“You’re right. She absolutely doesn’t need access to wyvern poison. I’ll go sit with Dammon. Aside from the hammering and the smithing, he’s pretty quiet.”

You’re not intruding,” Zevlor said, forcefully. “My hosting skills are simply rusty. I...welcome the chance to practice.”

“Oh,” you said, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. It wasn’t a believable reason in the least, but it did seem that he wasn’t trying to shoo you out. At least, you felt more confident that you were not unwelcome.

Zevlor studied your face. “How do you find Dammon’s company?”

“He’s a good kid and so cheerful in the face of everything that’s happened. I’m impressed by his attitude and his skills,” you said. “He’s helping me keep my tiefling in good shape.” Karlach was a certified badass, but she still needed extra special care. Gods, now that you thought about it, tieflings were like exotic fish, it was a real struggle to keep them alive.

Zevlor nodded. “We’re lucky to have him.” He set the empty bottle down and looked over his shoulder at the worn down storage crates, clearly considering the state of his supplies. He was a lean man, and while the kids were small, it was clear that the adults weren’t letting them go hungry. He likely didn’t have a lot to spare.

“Oh! I’ve got a bottle of Ithbank in my pack – the good kind.” You quickly dug into your bag and pulled it out. You were considering trying to bribe Asterion with it, but honestly, he would probably just turn his nose up at the unimpressive offer. You rummaged around your supply pack and found some cheese wedges, ham, a loaf of sourdough bread, and the treasure you scored while exploring. Looking around furtively, you pulled a small ripe sunmelon out and winked. “I know everyone is eating apples, but I’m sick of things trying to poison me-”

“You’ve mentioned poison very frequently today. How often does this happen to you?” Zevlor asked, looking concerned.

“Well, just this week-” You tried to think back. “The bandits, the goblins, some traps, the swamp apples, Nettie-”

“The healer?” Zevlor sounded alarmed.

“Yeah, because of the whole parasite infection thing,” you muttered, the wine loosening your tongue. Only a select few knew that you were carrying mindflayer tadpoles, and he was one of them since you had to explain to him why you were able to just walk into the Absolute camp without raising the alarm. “Look, the point is, I’m put off apples for awhile.” You pulled out a clean food knife – not a dagger, people applied all sorts of deadly coatings to their weapons – and eyed the cheese.

Zevlor rose and brought over clean plates and more cutlery. There was an economy to his motions, a careful precision to everything, no wasted movement. No tells either. This man tried to keep his cards very close to his chest.

It was very different from the first time you met, when he was shouting orders and coming down from the post-battle fury and the loss of one of his charges. Rage uncoiled all those carefully suppressed feelings and destroyed self control: you understood that feeling all too well. The contrast was interesting, you liked watching him.

You made a nice little plate cubes of cheese and ham, slices of bread, and cut your half of the melon into long wedges. Zevlor made a neat sandwich and chopped his melon into bite-sized chunks. This time you poured the Ithbank while Zevlor watched.

He took a sip. “This is nice. Thank you,” he said quietly.

“It really is,” you smiled, biting into the melon and getting some down your chin. The flavor was honey sweet, the flesh luscious and crisp under your teeth. You happily licked your fingers, slurping down the juice. Fuck, these were so much better than apples, and absolutely worth fighting a bunch of bandits for.

When you looked up, Zevlor was staring down at the table.

“I’m being messy, aren't I?” you muttered, wiping your mouth off. The heady combination of too much wine, sweet melon, and the company was making you sloppy. “Sorry.”

“No, no, you’re fine,” Zevlor coughed and poured himself some more wine, averting his eyes. He carefully bit into his melon cubes. His tongue flicked out and he licked his lips, closing his eyes. “That is delicious,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble, his tail swishing behind him.

Satisfied that he was enjoying his fruit, you devoured your slices too quickly, eating them down to the rind. When you looked up, Zevlor was only half finished, clearly taking his time and really savoring the experience.

“These are better than apples,” he said, glancing down at your empty plate. He speared a chunk of melon and extended his fork. “I don’t know if I can finish all this though.”

A damned lie if you ever heard one, and between Wyll and Asterion, you heard a lot of creative truths. You took a swig of wine and met that burning gaze, your breath catching. “I’ll take a bite,” you said. “But you clearly aren’t eating enough. You really should take better care of yourself, Zevlor.”

You leaned forward, delicately took the melon between your teeth, and pulled it off the tines. You gave the utensil a light parting bite, never looking away from Zevlor’s face.

He swallowed audibly, but his hand did not shake and he did not draw back. He just watched you with narrowed eyes, his jaw clenched, those sharp nails digging into his palms, his tail snapping from side to side. That tension was familiar. You remembered a similar strained look back when he got into a confrontation with that asshole mercenary. Maybe you were pushing him too far.

“Have I offended you?” you asked a little sheepishly. You did just take his food from him while insinuating that he was bad at taking care of himself.

“No,” he said gruffly, his voice an octave lower. “But are you going to claim that you don’t know what you’re doing?”

You smiled, lowering your eyes in amusement. “I’m just enjoying the ambiance.”

Zevlor gave a low exhalation, those orange eyes burning intently as he regarded you. “The situation is difficult enough,” he said, his voice harsh. “Hells, teasing an old man is cruel.”

You blinked. “I’ve seen you fight, Zevlor. I’d hardly call you old.” You met his gaze. “And teasing is only cruel if one doesn’t intend to follow through.” You stood, the wine giving you a cocksure recklessness that you would not possess sober. You leaned over the table, nearly nose to nose with him, baring your teeth in a grin. “I’ll deal with Kagha tomorrow. We’ll figure out the goblins after that. And then, if you’re still interested, let’s do something about it.”

Zevlor stiffened, his eyes widening, his lips parting in shock.

You took a swig of the Ithbank, and slammed it down next to him, lifting one of those calloused hands to your lips. You brushed your mouth against the inside of his wrist and then caught his index finger between your teeth. You sucked it down to the knuckle, tasting the blended salt and sulfur of his skin and the sweet stickiness of the melon. The heat of the digit made you want more than this, but you had to be careful with those sharp nails.

Zevlor’s nostrils flared, those brimstone eyes burning as he gritted his teeth, your name a hoarse curse in his mouth.

“And if you’re not interested,” you said, lowering his hand gently. “That’s fine too. It’s entirely up to you. We can just blame the wine.”

And with that, you turned on your heel and left, before you did something really stupid. It didn’t matter though, the fire was already in your veins and the taste of him lingered on your tongue.

Fic posted on AO3 now.

[sotwk]

Hi Naneth! Do you know and/or play D&D? So...I've recently started playing it and got addicted to the game (surprisingly for someone who's always been a bookworm than a gamer hehe), and now I can't help but be curious what would the Thranduillions (maybe bonus Thranduil and his wife?) be like as D&D characters (or what kind of characters would they create and play as during D&D sessions)? Ooooh, now I wonder what a Thranduillion D&D session would look like XD!

Omg it's amazing that you asked me this question, because literally just this morning I was chatting with my sister about her starting to play tabletop D&D with her old college buddies! I said to her, "Man I'm jealous and I wish I could join in, but I would just be so lost and confused and annoying because I'll need everything explained to me multiple times." XD My sister is also trying to get me to play BG3, and although it's really, really tempting, I'm afraid even venturing into that would take up what little free time I have left!

Anyway, going into your question that I LOVE so much, about what the Thranduilions would be like if they had a D&D session. Using my limited knowledge of the actual gameplay, it would go something like this:

The Royal House of Greenwood Plays Dungeons & Dragons

Characters Chosen

Everyone in the family prefers to play Elves but sometimes may choose a Half-Elf, Human, Dwarf, or Halfling. Legolas may dare to try controversial classes (i.e. dragonborn, half-orc), but only when their parents aren't playing.

Mirion: Barbarian. Values Strength.

Turhir: Paladin. Values Constitution.

Arvellas: Wizard. Values Wisdom.

Gelir: Ranger. Values Dexterity.

Legolas: Druid. Values Wisdom.

Thranduil: Rogue. Values Dexterity.

Maereth: Bard. Values Charisma.

How They Would Play

The family likes to run the campaign as a group that quests together, rather than individuals, so they work together as a team.

Arvellas is the Dungeon Master mostly because he wrote the guide books and has by far the most organized brain among the brothers. He's also the calmest, most patient, and can keep his brothers in line in case things descend into chaos.

Legolas was the ringleader who initiated the idea to start/play this game in the first place. He begged and helped Arvellas to create the game books, with Arvellas wrangling Legolas's wild enthusiasm and all-over-the-place ideas into brilliant manuals. Legolas also crafted the dice, miniatures, and game boards himself, and he always has the most elaborately detailed character sheets.

Mirion is not much for this sort of game but is absolutely happy to humor Legolas and spend time with his family. Barely knows what is going on and essentially just follows what Legolas tells him he "has" to do. His character is often first to get injured or in trouble, but he laughs it off. Is eating an unholy amount of snacks the entire time.

Turhir is the tactical genius who thinks of creative ways to solve problems and defeat opponents. Mostly does his thing to keep the quest going and everyone alive, but also gives advice regarding combat tactics when asked. Is quietly the MVP of the campaign.

Gelir is just really annoyed by the concept of dice controlling his fate and blames lousy dice rolls a lot. Protests and argues against the "logic" of difficulty checks. Heckles any of his brothers who "mess up" (in his opinion). Chooses courses of action based on what's flashiest instead of what's wise. (He's much more strategic in real life, but this is a GAME. Plus he likes to mess with Legolas.)

Thranduil picks up on the game super quickly despite having the least experience. Frequently leaves the table to attend to crown business (or grab more wine). Assigns Turhir to play for him in his absence because they have the same mindset. Drinks a crazy amount of wine during the course of the game (it helps him relax) but still does not appear drunk, nor is his gameplay affected.

Maereth never gets into trouble (in the game) because literally everyone is half-focused on protecting her. Eventually she gently removes herself from the game so they can play for real without having to consider her. Helped Legolas make the dice, miniatures, and game boards.

I hope you (and all D&D/BG3 readers) enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you for this very fun Ask! <3

For more SotWK AU headcanons: SotWK HC Masterlist

Elves HC Tag List: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @achromaticerebus @acornsandoaktrees @aduialel @asianbutnotjapanese @auttumnsayshi @blueberryrock @conversacomsmaug @elan-ho-detto-elan-15 @entishramblings @glassgulls @heilith @heranintomyknife23times @ladyweaslette @laneynoir @lathalea @quickslvxrr @spacecluster @stormchaser819 @talkdifferently6 @tamryniel @tamurilofrivendell @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras

Special Moots who are BG3 fans and might be interested tag: @ass-deep-in-demons @kylobith @tolkien-fantasy @creativity-of-death @missiemoosie (I probably missed some.)

Other useful links:

Introduction to SotWK

Fanfiction Masterlist

Fanfiction Request Guidelines

[stealthnoodle]

Current BG3 bullshit: Dishonour* Mode with SMT's Mothman. The song in the video is "Mothman (YMCA Parody)" by Studio Bunny, which felt right.

*Honour Mode but I choose Continue when I wipe because I've never had a spontaneous bad idea that I didn't relentlessly pursue, and I'm not abandoning that ethos for a mere cheevo

For this run, my terrible son has three guiding principles:

Always choose violence when violence is a dialogue option

When violence is not an option, choose [Intimidation] or at least being a rude little bitch

Ignore anything that is not immediately interesting

Also he's a Durge because of course he is.

Examples of how this has played out include running right past Shadowheart without even looking at her on the ship (she was surprisingly not mad about this later), killing both Astarion and Lae'zel in camp when their actions presented a prompt to do violence, and never recruiting Gale because his hand was so succulent and severable.

He also ran right through the Inquisitor's Chambers in the creche to the Blood of Lathander and never looked back. Githyanki ambush before leaving Act 2 didn't even happen. Just blipped right off their radar. Iconic.

Something new-to-me in this run was discovering that if you start a fight in the grove and subsequently have to kill all the druids, Karlach is REAL MAD, so she never made it into the party. I then decided to tell Minthara an invasion sounded fun, planning to stab her in the back, but it turns out that there's no invasion proper if the druids are dead, so after a long rest she and the goblins had overrun the grove on their own. Wyll never even got a chance to object!

Luckily there was still an [Attack] option when I talked to her, so Mothman got to carry out his cunning scheme, aggroing all the goblins in the grove in the process.

(There's a reason I'm letting myself Continue, and it's that all of Mothman's choices might be politely described as "sub-optimal.")

In this case I didn't even need to, though, because I threw my Spectator-in-a-bottle into the midst of the goblins and it turned out to be a great strat. Spectator killed all the goblins in the area, goblins got Spectator down to single-digit HP on their way out, and Mothman finished it off with a li'l sneak attack.

I love this game.

So long story short, I essentially raided the grove without losing Wyll by doing it in the most ass-backward way possible. Yay?

And it's a good thing I kept him, since Astarion got himself staked early on trying to snack on Mothman, and then Lae'zel had her "we're all infected" freakout in camp, so he and Shadowheart were the only companions still around. Since Lae'zel was the last to go out, I honored her with this hireling homage:

Turns out my biggest challenge on this stupid run has been shopping. Mothman finished Act 1 with zero vendors still alive. Obviously he killed Isobel in Act 2 as soon as his butler offered him a shiny reward for doing so, and he drew his weapon on the Moonrise Tower guards as soon as he met them, so he ended up with a sea of corpses and nobody who would talk to him but Araj Oblodra (an uneasy alliance which ended in Act 3 when she caught him rifling through her stuff and oops there's an [Attack] response to that).

My second biggest challenge, and what I thought would be my run-ender, was fucking Myrkul. Did I jump down the big hole without adequately prepping? Yes. Did I forget the single-use healing pod near the boss isn't actually a long rest and doesn't restore abilities or short rests? Yes. Did I have a very stupid loadout for a boss I have fought at least five times now? Also yes. After I had to hit Continue for a fourth time, I began to despair. Had the single save file cooked me?

It had not! I just needed to ferment the perfect cheese.

I wish I had screencaps of this bullshit but I was too frustrated to remember to take them by the time I figured this out, lolsob. If you are stuck in a hole with Ketheric Thorm and short on options, here is your ticket out:

You can get a surprise round, thank you Invisibility. One good sneak attack with Cull the Weak can take out the mindflayer.

Shadowheart's reward spear for killing the Nightsong lets you cast Shar's Darkness as an action as often as you like. If you cast it around your party from way back near the entrance, Ketheric becomes confused and does not summon more necromites. He just stands on the platform and yells. Old Man Yells at Cloud, literally.

Once you have slowly chipped his health away without expending resources, your biggest problem is that you have mostly piddling attacks, and Myrkul has a big health pool and can heal himself. OR CAN HE?

Bro can't see shit in the dark. Drop darkness centered on him and he gets blinded. His necromite snacks can run up to him, but he can't see them to gobble them up.

Do damage as fast as you can with whatever you have. Throw shit. Read scrolls. Give the magic spear to Skyrim Mod Lae'zel to handle Darkness from a distance and park Shadowheart up on Myrkul's ass with Spirit Guardians. Make Wyll summon Connor over and over to distract Myrkul from hitting her.

CONGRATULATIONS, you've spent half your Saturday on this.

Things got better in Act 3. Mothman can't have beef with every vendor in the city at once.

But you know what he can have? Specific, stupid beef with Gortash.

This keeps happening.

Also I can't believe I pulled that off without wiping even once. (The game crashed three times because my bell tower ladder strats were too elite, but I finally found a compromise that didn't make the game shit itself while I slogged through the fight. With only three party members, because I didn't have anything to make Wyll fly and couldn't be bothered with shopping. The only survivor of my nonsense was Skyrim Mod Lae'zel, who chugged an invisibility potion and climbed down vines to escape. Still!)

A funny consequence of my timing was that Mizora showed up in camp the night Gortash kicked the bucket and did her usual "I'll tell you where to find your dad in exchange for your soul" spiel, so I thought, well, let's see how that works out for us. Wyll, sell your soul. Again.

(I would feel worse about putting Wyll through that on top of everything else he's suffered this game, but look. He stayed in the party. His approval is HIGH. Somehow. He is Mothman's little Mothstan. This is what it's like on the dark side, buddy.)

The answer is that I got a quest maker for the sub that goes to the Iron Throne, but obviously the sub is not there, because Gortash is dead. "Sorry, Wyll, guess you sold your soul for nothing!" is what I would have said, except when I went down for my next long rest, the Duke popped out of thin air next to Mizora. As you can see in the video, he didn't quite have his being-alive-legs yet, but he figured out how to stand up in the morning. So I did his Wyrmway quest. As a treat.

Anyway, now Mothman just needs to beat up his sister with his cool Slayer form that he loves to pop as often as possible, and then he's off to the endgame! I expect everyone will be shocked when he takes control of the Netherbrain even though he's been loudly and proudly making his intentions known all game.

I'll close this out by saying that I let the randomizer make me a guardian again, and I forgot what it made until I was surprised and delighted by sexy facetats Santa:

[sammyboiocs]

Playing bg3 with 3 of my friends had a truly incredible moment. Featuring my sorcerer Nymral and her insane 11th hour 1v3 with an entirely dead party and no spell slots. elaborated under the cut lol.

We'd gotten into the trader area underground of the burning village where that artist was being basically kidnapped. We'd just gotten out of accidentally getting into a fight with the village folk and were hurting for it, on top of a lot of passive fire damage.

We were trying to plan on doing a long rest, in desperate need of one, only to realize the bard has been sneaking around the underground area and had managed to initiate a fight.

Trapped at the back of this cavern, with 2/4 of us afk at camp, the druid ran back to help, cornered at an entirely different end of the cavern.

So here i am, my sorcerer with nearly no spells left running in to see what I can do. I manage to get some ranged shots off, but at some point i cant reach them, but they can reach me so I'm stuck on this upper ledge. The bard tells us that she has super died, wherever she is.

the last member of our party comes back from afk, realizes what's going on and comes to help. Has to dash all the way around the cavern to reach the druid. By this point he's dead or making saves. So now she is also cornered, I'm still only barely in distance to get off hits and am not going to make it to her in time.

Predictably, she goes down.

Both she and the druid fail all their dead saves. I am the only member of the party alive. We consider reloading the save, honestly probably should have.

But I figured I wasn't long for death and wanted to fuck around and see what i could do. So i sneak around to the ground level of the cavern. Three of these enemies are perched up where my friends corpses are with their bows unmoving for several rounds while i get to the ground.

I hide, i use a blur scroll. My friends are tabbing and throwing everything that might help into my inventory. I was prepared to go down swinging and force a reload.

The enemies split, done idling and start coming down. They heal believing they're out of combat. they don't know where i am. When we reengage its at the bottom of the cavern, I'm still at a fraction of my health. I'm pumping health potions into my tav. My fleeting plan to use an aoe scroll spell to damage them all goes out the window as they split up and fan to surround me.

I reengage, lightning bolting 2 of them with a spell. damaging, not great. I've taking arrow after arrow as i stare at my inventory and finally just say, FUCK IT! I have one chromatic orb scroll. I was hoping to cast something more flammable first, but whatever.

So i cast chromatic orb: fire. and et me tell y'all,,, no one was prepared for how the entire cavern fucking exploded. Just about everything in their turned out to be flammable somehow as two of the 3 enemies go down immediately, and the last man is an arrows shot away from death.

I revivify the two who died together, the bard is still mia. Was this a fight worth winning? Honestly probably not but pulling through like that was just about the coolest thing I've done so far lol.

[catt-nuevenor]

Same person who sent the initial bg3 ask here! I absolutely love your analysis of Shadowheart! I agree with you about her big act 3 choice (trying to be vague just incase others don't want spoilers). I was surprised that the majority of online opinions I've seen argue that the other choice is the better ending for Shadowheart. I just want her to be free and happy—even if the journey to happiness is rocky lol.

"It's the same bg3 person again b/c I also love gushing about this game and I ran out of room lol. As far as starting a Dark Urge run, I 100% have to recommend romancing Astarion. Though, it's 100X better on a run where you decide to be good and resist the urge. It's actually surprisingly wholesome and low-key so much better than romancing him as a normal Tav. He's surprisingly supportive and there's so many great moments where you talk about resisting and becoming better people together."

---

Glad you enjoyed my responding gushing and rambles. I do think the framing of the last scene with Shadowheart's questline perpetuates a lot of the opinions on her parents alive being the better option. I suppose it's neater too, since the game ends a relatively short time afterwards and unlike BG2 we don't get long epilogue cards describing what happens in the long term. No chance to see the full consequences of what being the unfortunate plaything of a vindictive goddess does to a person.

"I felt the wound last night, while you were sleeping. Like some sadistic child, de-winging a fly."

A lifetime with that isn't one I'd wish on anyone.

Onto the Dark Urge playthrough. Astarion and I have a hate/tolerate relationship. If I could lean wholly into the darker options (to get Astarion to the point of liking the Main Character enough), or a straight romance, I'm sure it would prove very entertaining, especially from what I know of the events and 'incidents' involving the Dark Urge. As it is, I was planning on romancing Lae'zel.

I'll popcorn my way through Astarion's excellent personality and romance through the medium of Youtube in the end, I suspect. Tens of hours, even with a quick playthrough of BG3 (I've never been good at speedrunning games), is a long time for me to 'play straight' or otherwise cuddle up to a chap if I had someone other than a female main character.

I will forever adore Astarion's response to Araj (the drow potion lady) in the city:

Araj: "Ah, and the heart-stopping bloodsucker. I hope you've changed your mind. My neck is yours, any time."

Astarion: "And I will keep refusing until the end of 🎵time🎵!"

But we make snarky allies at best.

The end of his questline makes me overall begrudgingly fond of him. Like a great fluffy Persian cat that you just know is going to take the utmost pleasure in biting you, but you still let snuggle up to you regardless.

[andwolvesarewildthings]

Character six song soundtrack tag game-

BG3 Tav!

gloomstalker-assassin resist - durge edition

I saw @chronurgy 's and @daemon-in-my-head 's ones of these and i wanted to see if I could do it.

the internal glimpse of everyone's characters is so cool.

If any one else wants to play! baldur's gate oc or no, I would be delighted to see!

tagging @sevilemar because i'm curious what this format would look like for your dnd character you've talked about.

and

@missbrunettebarbie I don't know if you have any characters you'd like to do this for? yours or ones you like, fun either way

no pressure, obviously, boiling things down is not an easy exercise for me.

1. an event that defines the past

durgetash netherbrain plot as a fatalistic bid for autonomy not just on his own behalf...

and resulting consequences and betrayals and the inevitabilities thus.

There's no saving anything Now we're swallowing the shine of the sun There's no saving anything How we swallow the sun But I won't be no runaway 'Cause I won't run No, I won't be no runaway What makes you think I'm enjoying being led to the flood? We got another thing coming undone And it's taking us over We don't bleed, when we don't fight Go ahead, go ahead Throw your arms in the air tonight... ...What makes you think I'm enjoying being led to the flood? We got another thing coming undone We got another thing coming undone And it's taking us over And it's taking forever

Echo He took so much from you Echo You know not what to do Echo I watched you start to fade Between the drips in the dark tunnel now I hear you call your name Echo, echo, echo, echo, echo Echo, echo, echo, echo, echo (I'm still here) Echo, echo, echo, echo, echo (I'm still here)

2. how they see themselves - post-TBI, i think? got that autonomy, and absolutely terrified.

Going Going Going I'm going- trying to stay alive Don't - down- want to be alone like Going- trying to stay alive Don't -down- want to be alone like Going Down Love it Going Down Love it I'm just tryin' to stay alive Keep the fire down Don't want to be alone Like yesterday But the durge feeling of this one is very much in the soundscape

There's a war inside my head And I'm drowning in regret When the lights come down Got an empty crown My body's missing pieces Can't pull it all together

3. how others see them

I'll be an animal A carnivore I'll be a monster Clenching my jagged jaws Over the capture... ... I'll be a forest fire about to flood Over an empire I'll be an avalanche chewing its rupture I'll be a killer whale when I grow up I'll be a monster

So, Apollo, bring me back To the place I was before I met you And Icarus, lead the way To where I need to go I hear your footsteps now Barefoot soles on the bathroom floor And on my way out I told you I would never leave

4. their closest dynamic (romantic or platonic)

past closest dynamics and it's resonating present consequences. Gortash and Orin. we have gotten to the act three who's killing who here dance and it's tearing him apart.

Come get your name Reanimate, I lose Come set your frame Assassinate, I lose... ...Come stake your claim Recalculate, I lose Congratulations... ...Something about you Is making me lock up, guess I lose

But if you're gonna make me do it How'd you want it done Is it best to sip it slowly Or drink it down in one Every time I try to bring it down You always turn my head around, oh Make up your mind Let me leave or let me love you While you've been saving your neck I've been breaking mine for you The power is on, the guillotine hums My back's to the wall, go on, let it fall Make up your mind Before I make it up for you The executioner's within me And he comes blindfold ready Sword in hand And arms so steady

5. fight scene

Oh, you fool, there are rules, I am coming for you (You can run but you can't escape) Darkness brings evil things, oh, the reckoning begins (You will open the yawning grave) Oh, you fool, there are rules, I am coming for you (You can run but you can't escape)

6. end credits -

the light that is people to love and fight beside... but also grief.

When everything was broken The devil hit his second stride But you remember what I told you Someday, I'll need your spine to hide behind For fear of moments stolen I don't wanna say goodnight But I'll still see you in the morning Still know your heart and still know both your eyes I could have told you 'bout the long nights How no one loves the birds that don't rise So you can tell the heroes go hide My sense of wonder's just a little tired But if only you could see yourself in my eyes You'd see you shine, you shine I know you'd never leave me behind But I am lost this time Are we destined to burn or will we last the night? I will hold you 'til I hold you right But if only you could see yourself in my eyes

[chipped-chimera]

Ugh ... I am low-key so worried about how the BG3 ending is gonna play out for Karlach that I'm considering stopping playing and just coming back to it when I can handle it. Some of this shit is just hitting too close to home and I'm not sure I'm cut out for it.

More personal context under the cut if you want.

I relate to Karlach's pain so much. Too much. To the point it makes me teary thinking about it. Both of our lives have been cruel.

It has been hard for me, despite a stable family upbringing that most would envy, in a lower-middle class family that for the large part has been financially stable. I'm also white. I know I'm lucky in that capacity - god I fucking know (and the thought that what I've gone through could be considered a 'lucky' position? What does that mean for others? It keeps me up at night).

But that didn't stop the pain crawling in. I wasn't diagnosed with Autism until 27. I wasn't diagnosed with co-morbid ADHD until I was 28. I wasn't medicated for ADHD until I was 30 (and that was AFTER being told by a psych who also invalidated my Autism diagnosis aka the context for fucking EVERYTHING in my life, I couldn't have ADHD because I could 'read a book').

Before that? I knew I was depressed at 13, but didn't want to burden my family so I did nothing - we may be lower middle class and stable but I knew that was only because my parents tried so fucking hard. We had camping chairs in place of furniture up until I was eight. I lived with the pain because I didn't want to burden them, and without the context of my neurodivergence I just blamed myself for the problem, not being good enough, not trying hard enough - not being ENOUGH. I held onto it until I cracked and couldn't take it anymore at 16. I was diagnosed with Depression and Generalised Anxiety Disorder. It's since been upgraded to chronic Major Depression and it's classed as treatment resistant.

Both of us have had moments of building ourselves up from nothing. Through therapy and medication I was able to feel a bit better, more positive as I left high school. Thinking maybe it was gonna be okay after all, out there in the world.

It felt like I'd slowly reached out into the light, tentatively, hopefully - there'd be something more, that I'd live out the dreams I'd had, the things I'd always wanted to do. I was still optimistic.

Instead it felt like that arm had been immediately lopped off.

The story is long and too complicated to tell without this being longer than it needs to be. But like Karlach, I feel I've lost years of my life. Like Karlach, it's been a decade - ten years. That I cannot get back, that I grieve keenly.

I have been isolated, and then betrayed by those I thought I trusted. First, by the systems that were supposed to help me when I was struggling - my own government's system as they hit me with a debt that I couldn't even pay, on a scheme which has in retrospect been found to be completely illegal, but has left me with lasting trauma and damage and no closure. Not even a sorry. Because I, with my undiagnosed Autism and ADHD and a growing fatigue issue where I was so exhausted from simply being alive I just couldn't fight it. So I let them take money out of my social security payment - which was and still is considered below the poverty line. I was punished for being poor, I was punished for arguably, being disabled.

And then, by the person I trusted most. The person I thought I loved, the person who made it felt like everything was okay - I may be struggling still but there was still a future! There was someone who cared about me, who would be beside me for the rest of my lifetime. He asked me to marry him. We were engaged for three. Years. We'd been dating for 10. I thought everything, despite all the shit happening to me, was going to be okay.

It wasn't.

I had landed some employment for the first time in 3 years. I was working more hours than advised by the psychologist who diagnosed me with Autism but I had no choice - I was literally on the minimum limit available to me, due to the barriers I still have to navigate to qualify for disability supports (again, from a government system that I no longer trusted and gave me the earnest impression that they preferred me dead than 'leeching off their system'). But I was not living. I couldn't handle even 15 hours a week, I was more exhausted than I'd ever been. I felt like a corpse. I spoke with my disability employment coordinator (no, despite what I said, being on disability EMPLOYMENT services does not qualify you getting onto disability support, just means the government will only hound me for a minimum of 15 hrs a week instead of 30 in order for social security, that's a whole other complicated thing) IN CONFIDENCE that I wasn't sure I could keep up with the current work format and hoped I could discuss some solutions. Next minute I find I'm locked out of the work facebook. I was fired, without warning and without protections because I was a casual. Because my employment coordinator told my boss before even discussing anything with me.

My relationship was suffering but I wasn't aware. I was too tired for intimacy, and probably two tired to see the signs. I'd gotten my Autism diagnosis at this point and maybe it was a bit difficult for my fiancée at the time to understand, but he came to terms with it. The ADHD assessment was booked. I had realized at this point pushing myself to be something I wasn't, thinking somehow landing work and earning money for myself would help the depression - it didn't. I was worse than I'd ever been. Then the moment came where I was handed a notice that the government would no longer give me any social security because my partner, on his meager chef's salary was earning too much. All because I'd tried to do the right thing by the government. I'd tried so hard to be good. I'd tried so hard to be ENOUGH.

I wasn't enough.

My fiancée came to me, my fiancée who I'd been talking to about our upcoming wedding plans now the pandemic was over, my fiancée who I'd been cuddling with on the couch last night watching films - he came to me when I was battered, and raw and broken and crying in bed - just said 'I can't do this anymore.' And that was it. It was done. As I processed it, I realised the root of it was, it was because I'd taken the mask off. I decided I wasn't going to try to be something I wasn't anymore, because I knew and it was backed up in countless studies - what I was doing was actively killing me. And he didn't want to deal with that. I wasn't enough, and yet I was too much.

It has been two years since then. My ADHD is medicated. I live in a stable, safe environment with my parents where I don't have to worry about my security. I have set firm boundaries that I learned while I was independent, and they respect them. But the wounds are still deep and it'll take a long time to recover, to get that trust in the world back.

When I look at Karlach, I see some of myself. Someone who has been used, abused and betrayed by those they trusted. Someone who felt abandoned by everything, that there was no hope, no way out. And yet in spite of it all - kept going. Who, deep in their heart kept something soft and safe. Held onto and protected what little shred of optimism left. Because if we don't practice kindness, who will? We want to be the kindness we want to see in the world, because fuck, have we seen so little of it. It is so easy to give up, to fall into despair when you've been through so much shit. It requires so much vigilance and energy and momentum to keep going, when you're wading through a battlefield of carnage and gore in your life, whether metaphorical or literal. We hold on and we are kind because we hope, one day, that kindness will touch us back. That despite it all we try our fucking hardest to wear a smile, and see the good in everything we can.

And I think that's why it hurts so much. Karlach is finally free. And happy. She feels loved. She's finally feeling some of that kindness again kindness that I know, that she knows she fucking deserves. And it's on a fucking time limit.

And that's what's fucking breaking me. I know she's supposed to be some kind of allegory for terminal illness. And I know this isn't my story. I know it's a story that is important to tell, and it will touch others in a different way. But for me it feels like all the wounds I've barely scabbed over are being ripped open again. Because this is not an ending she deserves at all. It makes me sit and wonder, is that all there is for people like us? Just brief windows of happiness in the pain until we die? Don't we deserve saving? Don't we deserve a happy ending? A peaceful one? Don't we deserve to wear that smile, that happiness without us having to fight for every second it with tooth and nail to keep it there? To believe in it?

I don't know the endings in detail for her. But i have seen enough in the vaguest sense to feel it won't be good, and I don't know if I'm ready for that. I have played games with sad themes, like I know Cyberpunk isn't that great either - but I think the difference is who it is happening to. It's somehow easier when it's you, as the player. But when it's someone else? When you know that pain so fucking keenly you would rip yourself apart just to let them escape that hell, it's hard to stomach.

Then there's the disability angle that bothers me so much. Currently her options, as she puts it, are burning up and dying or going back to Avernus. I understand why she's choosing death, like, fuck man I do. Why is it always death though? Why is death better. Why can't she get a replacement heart? Make it shit! It can be a shitty heart that still works, but needs tune ups, and maybe she can't fight like she used to but she gets to fucking live a happy life! Because a shitty, happy life is better than nothing at all. Because as it goes, it feels to me I'm just being told it's easier to just die than submit to the suffering again whenever a piece of media picks an end like this. It's either the cure-all or death, there's never room for something in between. There's never room for making peace with what you have lost and still reclaiming some of your life, grieving what you have lost but still finding something worth having and holding onto. And when you're in that limbo state yourself, it's a hard pill to swallow. And it's hard to let anyone else fall into it.

We both deserve life. We both deserve happiness.

Fuck.

[gale-dekarios]

5, 27 and 34 for game asks!

hiiiii :DDD thanks for stopping byyyy

5. Most memorable gaming moment?

oh, absolutely the githyanki creche fight from bg3.

everybody was dead except astarion, who was a thief subclass rogue. you don't need to know the subclass except that they get two bonus actions instead of one.

everyone except two githyanki melee fighters were still alive. instead of doing the normal thing and reloading, i decided i was going to see if i could pull it off just with astarion.

what i ended up doing was, i'd get astarion to use a bonus action disengage, bonus action dash, sprint to the opposite end of the room, turn around and shoot them with his bow or a fire bolt. they would then be forced to use a full action to dash towards him because they had no ranged weapons, and would have to wait until their next turn. the problem with this plan is that they could never reach astarion to actually hit him, but also their AC was high enough that astarion, especially without sneak attack advantage or damage, very rarely hit them. meaning i spent a whole HALF HOUR running around that one fucking room with astarion and these gith only sometimes hitting them and doing the tiniest amount of damage when i did.

i managed to KILL THEM, and i WON THAT FIGHT, only to get caught in the vlakiith "kill the person inside the artefact" cut scene, and i had one spell scroll of revivify left. which meant after ALL THAT, i had to reload anyway.

big L for charlie.

27. A popular game that you just can’t get into.

animal crossing. i really dislike slow milestone/farming games. same with stardew valley. i find that kind of thing really really boring. repetitive stuff really grates me, it's why i'm kind of stuck trying to finish dragon age inquisition because i know i need to wrap up the companion stuff, but thinking about "go to this place, pick up thing", "go to this place, kill this person", three, four, five times in a row, it just reeeeeally puts me off.

and the thing is like, i've played animal crossing, in fact, im pretty sure i still have a good 30 or something hours in it. but that was mainly because i have friends i played it with that had been playing it for years upon years and they really helped me blast through a LOT of the upgrades really quickly, but i mainly treated my island as a way to piss off one of my friends who really likes her place to look nice and organised and for everywhere else to look nice and organised (and cute), but after a while doing bits like having as many toilets as i could scattered around my island and stealing as many flowers as i could from hers didn't justify the amount of fun i wasn't having playing the game, and so i stopped.

what's downright hilarious though is my rng in that fucking game because despite not giving less of a shit about it, apparently i have at least... three...? incredibly rare campers on my island at any given time (apparently) (i wouldnt actually know but thats what they said, and they seemed pretty shocked about it so.)

but yeah, resource management, organising, farming, slow gain milestones, no clear, structured story, repetitive gameplay, it's like everything i hate to be in a game all in one.

34. funniest gaming moment

not sure if this means something i did or something that happens in a game that i find funny, either way, the amount of inside jokes i have about assassins creed odyssey's alexios with my friends are insane, (all of which are non sensical both with and without context), and the eagle bearer shoving the cyclop's obsidian eye up a goats anus still catches me off guard and makes me lose it every single time.

[chronoxtreme]

The Cage - Chapter 18 Author's Notes

First of all, here's a link to the chapter in question! CW: Discussions of a relationship with power imbalance, discrimination based on sexual anatomy So, fun fact - everything with Yurgir was not in the original, second or even 4th draft of this fic (and when I mean draft, I basically mean "attempt to think this monster's details out," not an actual draft). Chapters 17 and 18 were supposed to be one chapter, but migraine + insane wordcount + me getting a new position at work basically nuked that idea. So I split it in two, and honestly, I believe it's for the better in terms of pacing.

Nanne's whole "I don't like to use charm-like magic" comes from seeing Da use it on other people. Friends was that guy's favorite cantrip, and while it can get you what you want, it can also burn you. Nanne's much less risk adverse than Da, so they avoid it. Enhance Ability though is fair game because it just makes you better at certain things.

The "homicidal hat trick" line by Gale is a shout-out to Mistborn, one of my favorite book trilogies.

And then we get to the second "twist" of Nanne's backstory: Maria. This is a part that wasn't in my first stab at writing Nanne. Originally, they had no experience with sex or romance at all. However, I realized that them having some romantic history gave them a lot better motivation for their behavior around Astarion pre-seduction. At the same time (and this was unintentional) their experience with Maria became a foil for Astarion's sexual encounters with patriars.

I also put a lot of myself into that story. I'm transmasc nonbinary, and when I wrote that scene, I wasn't out to anyone, including my husband. Thankfully, he's been extremely supportive of me and my identity, but it took a lot of courage to talk about it with him. It's extremely difficult to come out to people who have a certain expectation of who you are. Writing about Maria's rejection was a weird sort of catharsis.

It was also a story where I wanted it to be messy, especially from Nanne's POV and how they describe it. Nanne had zero intentions of having a relationship with their employer, it kind of just... happened. And while it was doomed to failure from the start, Maria was attracted to them. There was a "chance" of it working out. That's what makes it really sting, in my mind. It was problematic at best, coercive at worst, and Nanne wasn't in the wrong - but for so long, they've lived with an emotionally immature parent constantly talking about how difficult it was to raise them, the sacrifices, the burdens, etc. and that gets to you. So naturally, if something goes wrong, it is their fault. Finally, the song! This section ended up being a lot shorter than I expected it to be, but honestly, that's another thing that I've been working on in the "this is for me first" category: not being afraid to release chapters with wildly differing lengths. Yes, it will happen again, that is a promise lmao.

Like the Dawn is one of my favorite songs on the planet, and when I listened to it after playing BG3, I realized that it perfectly described Nanne's thoughts about Astarion in the sunlight, and the rest was history. This is a moment that I could rewrite a thousand different ways and still never be satisfied because how in the world do you write about a person SINGING without it coming off awkward as hell? In the end, I think it worked out okay. I'm not satisfied, but I'm content.

Nanne's using Faerie Fire here, because if bards can use singing to do magic, why not do magic to enhance the singing performance? I've always loved fic/media that's used the world's magic system for stuff like special effects in performances and plays - it makes the world feel alive and Nanne is a bard first and foremost. The bigger the spectacle, the more coin they get. Is there a bit of illusion magic thrown in? Maybe. Hey those Weave lessons with Gale paid off!

Astarion running off was also not in the script but it turned out that way. I don't think it's a bad thing for him to keep feeling guilt. I do worry that it comes off as repetitive and cyclical, but in my experience that's how guilt works in real life. You feel good, you forget about it, and then someone says or does something, and it all comes crashing down. It's tough... and next chapter's gonna be even worse lmao.

[loyal-logik]

// Just popping in to say that I'm still alive! I know I've not been active lately. I've been shadowing for a new job, and I've just not really had the muse to be on Tumblr (blame my hyperfixation on getting into photography and playing BG3). Threads will be replied to whenever I feel the desire, I've learned not to force it anymore. In saying that when I have the muse to be here, I might go through my threads and clean some out. I'll let you all know tho ❤️ Thanks for being patient and sticking by me 🤟