#icy plays bg3

[icyhotheartwritings]

Uh oh I started daydreaming about my Tav this was NOT meant to happen

[vaxstrife]

irwen - seldarine drow - circle of the moon druid ranger

[demigoddessqueens]

Ok, so I've spent the past year playing too much baldur's gate 3 (happy 1rst anniversary), and I've also started rewatching Castlevania, and I *have* to ask, how do you think the trio (Sypha, Adrian and Trevor) would react to someone with access to actual divine power (cleric or paladin) of a god that's much more present and benevolent than the one they've known?

(Sorry if you've gotten this kind of ask before, I haven't visited your blog in ages)

Happy bday BG3!! Im still there and never left (until DA Veilguard comes along 👀🫨, where you at?)

But all that aside, welcome to my blog fellow CV fan, and thank you so much for your request 😄

Masterlist 11

Trevor

Is half amazed at your display of power in smiting demons, but also half-serious in how you can try and use your powers so that no vampire guts get on his tunic

He’s the farthest from a praying man but he’ll seek help from your power once he realizes he cares for/loves you

Sypha

You two together make the deadliest duo when it comes to fighting

Knowledge wise, you’re also strongly compatible together given Sypha’s travels and however long you’ve been alive. Swapping stories about each other is the surest way to bond and she’s glad her ramblings are met with an eagerness that matches her own.

Alucard

I feel like initially he’ll have some embittered feelings, such as why couldn’t you help earlier against the armies or the most pressing matter of rescuing Lisa

Anything after that, his icy demeanor does start to thaw out as he sees how well Trevor and Sypha get along with you. And when the realization dawns that you and him have much more time together than the others, he seeks out your company all the time.

[hawkinshorror94]

Hiya! Saw your requests were open for bg3

Could I request something with Astarion proposing to reader? Something really fluffy with maybe a bit of spice at the end?

I hope you like it because this was a really sweet prompt. And I hope I did it justice. Barely proofread

“Darling, have you seen my cufflinks?��� Astarion asked from the doorway, you glance over your shoulder with a helpless shrug and you slide your own earrings into place at the vanity. “Oh you’re no help.” He huffed, playfully and dipped back out. 

You turn back to look at your reflection in the vanity, hair in place and make up done nicely. But neither of them would be leaving for dinner if you didn't find his cufflinks. So you began your search, your jewelry box, your vanity, throwing your hands in the air you turn to his bedside table assuming he had tossed them in there after a midnight rendezvous with you perhaps. 

The drawer slides open to reveal a sheathed knife and a long abandoned book. Your hands reach in the very back and feel a velvet box, you frown. 

“What the hells?” You mutter as you pull out the box. Small, black, crushed velvet. You pull the box open to reveal a ring, woven with real elven silver and a deep red ruby nestled into the band. Your heart catches in your throat. 

“Oh shit,” Astarion breathes, he was on his way back into the room when he saw you standing there with the ring. “I see you didnt find my cufflinks.” He was trying to play it off as if the entire proposal hadn’t been blown the second she saw the ring. 

“Astarion,” You look from him to the ring, eyes wide and watery. He looked nervous and he never was nervous, always sure of himself. 

“Will you marry me?” He asks quickly “I had plans on asking you at dinner-” You cut him off by closing the distance quickly, lips smashing against his own, the box still clutched in your fist.

“Yes, of course.” You say when you finally pull back for air, your chest heaving a few stray tears making their way down your cheeks. You had never been so sure about something in your life, spending the rest of your life with him seemed to be the most simple yes ever. 

“You’re ruining your makeup, darling.” He says softly as he thumbs away the tears from your cheeks before slipping the box from your hand and pulling the ring from it. It slipped on your finger with ease, pulling your hand up between the two of you to look at the sparkling ruby in the candlelight. “Do you like it?” Astarion asks, turning your hand in his own watching as the ruby glittered in the different lights. You nod, pulling him back to your mouth to murmur against his cool lips. 

“It’s beautiful” 

Your dress was gathered at your hips as he had you pinned between him and the vanity mirror, your brush and make up strewn on the floor knocked off in his hurry. His cool hands massage the insides of your thighs as he lavishes your neck with attention. An unspoken question in the way his mouth hovers over your pulse point, he assumes the answer when you tilt your head back, your hand twisted into his downy curls. 

You gasp at the feel of his fangs breaching the soft skin of your neck filling your veins with an icy numbness that tingles through your entire body. All the while his deft fingers slip under the lacy of your small clothes, brushing against that hot throbbing little bundle of nerves. He rubs in slow circles as he drinks from your neck, his own stifled moan joining into your cacophony of soft moans and whimpers.

When he leans away, a bit of your blood trickles down his chin and you wipe it away with your thumb pushing it into his mouth and letting him suck the skin clean. He closes his blood drunk eyes as he savors that last bit of sweet ichor. When he reopens his eyes a smirk plays on his features as he drops to his knees to join his fingers making a mess of your soaked cunt. 

“We’re not making it out to dinner, are we?” You ask as he pulls your legs wider apart letting his cool breath ghost over your panties, a languid lick making your back arch off the mirror behind you. 

“Oh we will, my beautiful wife but first I am having dessert.” 

[dumbbitch-academy]

Starlight

Astarion X F!Reader

WC: 680

Tags: Fluff, Blood drinking, Sex-mention (Nothing happens though), 18+ MDNI, I think that is it?

Summary: Astarion cuddles and feeds, it is super fluffy! and self-indulgent.

A/N: Hello! This is my first ever fic that I have written for bg3, so please bear with me if there is any OOC-ness. Feedback is welcomed, be back soon!

Masterlist (only a couple right now but it shall soon grow)

AO3 Link for those who prefer AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57941980

The rush of heat flushed on your cheeks. You could feel your chest tighten slightly as you continued to kiss him. Astarion pulled back slightly as he could feel how warm your face had become under his hand he had been caressing your cheek with,“Oh my sweet girl, you are always so warm for me.” The look of adoration brought his eyes into a smile with those lovely little crinkles subtly springing up under those rubies. His lips pulled into a soft grin. You giggled at the sight, “And you are always ready to use that to your advantage, my dearest elf”. It had become somewhat apparent when he would sneak into your tent most nights, just to tangle up with you in your bedroll. 

“My darling it is not that I am using it to my advantage, but that I enjoy it when those cute cheeks of yours blush crimson for me. Reminds me of… other things.” Astarion leaned into the crook of your neck, smelling deeply at the blood that flowed freely underneath your skin. You shivered slightly from the tickle of air as he breathed you in. “You can, if you want,” you whispered to his ear, rubbing a hand on his upper back, the other lazily playing with the silver curls at the nape of his neck. 

The two of you were laying down in your tent, it was so late you had only the moon’s glow lightly lighting up your tent. You felt Astarions ear twitch slightly and it tickled your cheek as the tip swiveled along your upper jaw. “Hmmm” you could hear Astarion hum as he began to pepper kisses along your neck, trying to find just the right spot. Once he did, he whispered softly, “Stay still okay, love?”  You hummed in response as you continued to rub his back. 

He had gotten much better at learning how to bite you without causing you too much pain. You could feel his fangs quickly, yet gently pierce your neck as a slight icy sensation was felt along that side of your neck. You closed your eyes and focused on rubbing his back and making sure to check in with him. “I'm here with you. It is only us, we are safe.” You had learned at some point that he liked to be talked to during his feedings. Nothing in particular, just sweet reminders and being told that he was safe. You could feel him swallow slowly, mouthful after mouthful as you breathed slowly in and out, moving your chest as you breathed to help him stay in the moment. 

He was so grateful of you helping him to make the feedings less sexually charged. The first few weeks of him feeding, it always ended up with carnal pleasure between you two. Which while nice, made the both of you feel that feeding was still somewhat transactional. Learning how to be in the moment with you helped both him and you immensely to keep feeding sessions as just feeding sessions. Most of the time anyways, sometimes you two just cannot keep your hands off of each other. But it is different now, knowing you can have a feeding session where it doesn’t end up with sex makes it so much more satisfying when it does end up with sex. 

You could feel the slight chill set in and your head began to feel a bit light. “Starri, it's time.” Astarion swallowed the last mouthful that was in his mouth and slowly removed himself from your neck, lightly licking at the wounds. You could feel him begin to warm up as he finally pressed his cheek against yours as he breathed in, calming himself and letting his mind find his words again. “You are always so good to me, my love,” he whispered as he pulled away finally to look into your eyes. This time it was your turn to smile with crinkly eyes at him and leaned into a small peck on his lips, smiling against them. “Because you deserve it, my starlight.” 

[inaconstantstateofchange]

BG3 Companion Headcanons: Wicked Grace (Or, Well, Talis¹)

I got to thinking about what it would look like if we had a similar scene with the BG3 companions as the infamous Wicked Grace scene from Dragon Age: Inquisition. Enjoy:

Lae'zel: She doesn't really see the point of a game seemingly so dependent on chance rather than true strategy – she and Gale share a bonding moment over this – and refuses to participate after losing by an embarrassing margin in the first game. However, she does take a "strategic vantage point" from which to keenly observe the proceedings, and makes a private vow to win back her honor in future, after the sting of defeat has eased.

Astarion: He's the one who suggested the whole affair in the first place, but he quickly finds himself with cause to regret it. On the one hand, he ends up... enjoying himself to a certain degree, but on the other, he does not come out of it with anything near the unquestioned victory he expected. He's not used to playing against opponents with a comparable skill level, so his attempts to cheat his way to victory only succeed a fraction of the time. His stress levels increase after Lae'zel taps out and takes up haunting the table, and the inconsistency with which she calls out his cheating is worse for his nerves than if she did it every time.

Shadowheart: Astarion may have suggested the affair in the first place, but she's the one who manipulated him into it, by "casually" noting on a mission one day that it was a shame none of them had a deck to play with, as she was a great enjoyer of the game even though she had never had any great skill with it. In fact, such games were highly emphasized among Sharrans for their unparalleled utility in information gathering, manipulation, and subterfuge.

Gale: He starts out very certain of his skill and assured victory, then begins making several pointed comments about how it would be a different story if they were to bring out the lanceboard when he begins losing ground — and articles of clothing. He makes a decent showing for himself, but folds out just after the midpoint of the evening to join Lae'zel in treating the remaining players as the prime entertainment they are.

Wyll: He played with some of the Fist recruits as a teenager, but he's a little out of practice. He gets fleeced for the first few rounds, but settles into it, keeps his wits about him, and quietly gets his own back by the later rounds. He regularly catches his opponents off-guard with an unexpected quip, and Karlach has to excuse herself for an entire round after snorting ale out of her nose in a horrid mix of foul steam and boiling liquid. He apologizes vigorously, but can't stop laughing along with the rest of them, and it certainly doesn't make him stop.

Karlach: She's actually a brutal opponent, but unfortunately stymied by her recent experience being with the rulesets used by those devils willing to play in Avernus, and, prior to that, the heavily amended rules favored by the seedier neighborhoods of Baldur's Gate. No one – particularly not those currently winning – is willing to switch to a different set of rules in the middle of the evening, but Karlach makes them promise that next time, she gets to pick the ruleset. She calls it a night after the Ale Incident, clapping Wyll on the back before flopping down next to Gale and Lae'zel, and picking a new target to cheer on each round. (Her cheering is distracting enough that said targets are typically grateful when her attention lands on anyone else. This is on purpose. She is having a grand time.)

Minthara: She treats the initial invite with icy disdain, noting that she has far more productive things to do than to engage in such puerile pursuits. The camp is small enough that she can't entirely avoid the bright cluster of gathered individuals raucously ribbing at and laughing with each other. She ends up drifting nearer, noting that in Menzoberranzan they played for much more meaningful stakes than mere coin. Everyone's in a good enough mood to leave that one alone, and so she somehow ends up standing just behind Halsin's shoulder. She offers blunt and often biting commentary berating his strategy for being too hands-off, falling silent only when he wins that round — albeit with a gambit that would have lost him some fingers in Menzoberranzan. He looks at her with a gleam in his eye, but doesn't press his point, merely tilting his hand to allow her a better view, and they proceed to form a fairly successful team.

Halsin: He plays up his ignorance at first, claiming cards to be "an invention of civilization", but acquits himself with the skill of a reasonably accomplished dabbler. As the night wears on, he admits in a quiet, humor-laced aside that his master, the previous First Druid, was an inveterate card sharp, and Halsin's own skill was merely what he acquired in self-defense. When Minthara joins him, he ignores her more bloodthirsty suggestions, but incorporate those that suit his own strategy, culminating in an unpredictable, yet startlingly effective strategy.

Jaheira: She's brutal. A terror. They overlook her the first round – innocent, unknowing fools that they are – more focused on their own petty squabbles with one another. She smiles calmly, refuses to rise to any of the general ribbing, then sweeps the entire pot at the last minute with a play that leaves them all gaping at her. From that point, they are gunning for her in particular — and she makes them fight for every single copper they regain.

Minsc: No one is certain whether he knows what game they're playing. He will make absolutely absurd plays, then come in at the last with a card laid out on Boo's direction that somehow turns it around. His chaotic playstyle means he's never first — but he's also, inexplicably, never last.

¹ "Some games of skill are detailed below, but games of chance are also popular. Wagering on any sort of game is also a favorite pastime.... Talis Deck: A deck of seventy-eight cards, typically made of lacquered paper or parchment, in a wooden case. The deck is similar to a tarot deck." Forgotten Realms Campaign Setting 3E. 2001. p. 96.

[alpydk]

🌿 🌸

Good morning anon. Thanks for the ask, talking about fics I love! I did a huge post the other day so quickly going to add them in here as well. - Recommend only one hahahahahaahahahahahaahaha.

🌿Rec someone else’s BG3 fic and tell us what you like about it!

The 5 from the other day (Find the post here to see why)

Alchemy 410 Broken Horizons Weave me the Sunshine Professor Dekarios Twin Compasses

And now some more that I didn't link Weave and Woods - @weaveandwood - Honestly I just love the pairing. Auroria is such a good character who I genuinly see ending up with Gale. And it's not been all that eay relationship where they fall in love and are happy. They have their challanges. I most of all love seeing her learn new spells because that doesn't really happen in fics and its great to see. (Especially how proud she is with it.) "The second, third, fifth, ninth tries were similar. On the tenth try, she thought she saw a few sparks of electricity surrounding the arrow, sending a surge of pride through her. She was close, she could feel it. " - Come on Ori, you can do it!

---

Strange Highways - I have been on about this fic since chapter one. No fic has caught be like this. It's like it calls to my chaotic nature and I will keep screaming it into the Tumblr void like some insane looney fan. Just me alone with my billboard - READ THIS FIC. It's Cazador in a rock group in the 80's. It's funny, has amazing music referances but most of all it's just so fucking good to read.

The words spoke to his soul, into the very depths of it. He felt them with every cell of his body. This was not like the weak melodies bards played back in Faerûn. This music had authority. It had power.

Master of puppets, I'm pulling your strings

Twisting your mind and smashing your dreams

Blinded by me, you can't see a thing

Just call my name, 'cause I'll hear you scream

It was perfect. He imagined saying the words, making them his own. This was a supreme incantation, it had to be. This one would make people obey. Just Fuck Yeah!

--- Paperback Writer - (Short 600 words) - Haarlep edits Raphael's novel. It's fucking funny and I love it. Simple as. "Quivering, the hero took my hand I’m pretty sure Tav told you not to touch them, and it made you pout for a week."

And now the non Bg3 ones... because oops...

RE: Umbrella Asylum (Resident Evil) - @judasiskariot - It's got that lab, depressing, in your head build up mood. You know the one, everything is clinical but there is evil shit going on. The descriptions are fucking beautiful and I love it. "Icy blue eyes that were at least as cold as the black lenses of the glasses." - Just that about Wesker. I still think of it even now. ---- La Petite Mort - One of the most beautifully written crackfics I've ever read. Barbie/Dracula. - Just try it and love it. He should have gotten rid of her by now. Made a meal out of her, at least, even if only the once: her blood will surely be sweet, so sweet, heady and deep and dark when he drinks from her.

But he keeps finding excuses.

Not yet. If I'm honest my reading of fics has been limited recently. I have a few too many that just seem to have been abandoned and I'm becoming hesitant to start up reading newer chapter fics. I'm also a little put off when I see things at chapter 54 and then find its over 200k worth of words to catch up on. Yeah, I need to have people recommend fics to me so if people want to send me asks with their recs go ahead.

🌸Rec one of your fics and tell us what you like about it! Only one.... But I'm so good. (They say, going through the 40 fics knowing they really could be better.) I'm my own worst critic. Fuck it, you get more than one. This is my answer!

Cabinet of Oddities - It's Nana's story. What started all this chaos. It is love and adventure and mental illness and healing all rolled into one big Galemancer sized ball. 56k words of just me. I may also be writing the sequel/prequel right now... “A kiss does not necessarily have to mean love though, just as a hug certainly does not. Is that what you were expecting to feel?” He looked into her eyes. He had always been that of the hopeless romantic. As much as he wanted to believe his own words, he knew he was not the type to kiss without love, or at least potential love.

She gazed back at him. “I’m not sure. I wasn’t expecting to feel fear though.”

“And, do you fear me?” He hoped that she would say no. That maybe this feeling could blossom, that all their unspoken feelings could be revealed and yet he was also nervous of her answer. That if she said no, it would be something else holding him to this mortal coil, someone else who would eventually realise he was not good enough.  Just look how fucking good that is. (I'm not allowed to be down on myself so the other end of the spectrum it is)

--- Tattered Souls - RuganxGale (Also writing the sequel right now) - This is my ZhentWeave baby. This is all for me. I love it and that's all that matters. Honestly writing something like has been extremely liberating and I recommend everyone write something like this at some point. “Just get out of here...” Rugan’s voice was weak, his gravely tones quiet, and he tried to lift himself from the ground.

Gale spoke calmly, keeping his eyes on the mercenaries in front of him. “Not without you.” He could unleash the lightning bolt and possibly fire a magic missile before being hit if he moved quick enough.

“This isn’t your fight.” A hacking cough brought up small amounts of blood, which were spat onto the ground. “Just leave.”

An arrow flew from a trigger-happy archer whistling past Gale’s ear and he almost unleashed the lightning bolt in reaction, stopping only as he saw Rugan stand before him in defence of the female Zhentarim.

“Gale, not your fight...” Love me some cliches and tropes. Love them.

--- Okay, last rec. Not that anyone will read all of this, anyway. You're all looking for your own fics after all (I do that then get quietly depressed when my name isn't on the list... But we all do that, right? Right???)

Where is that child now, I wonder? - Gale past short (500 words). I keep thinking of this one a lot recently. Of young Gale and his relationship with his father. This is probably more a head cannon than an actual fic but it's stuck with me. - I recommend a read if you're looking for ideas. "No! I won't let my son read poetry and become like a delicate flowered prick of an elf. Weak, pathetic! No, he will do as I say and do it when I tell him to!" 

Again, thanks for the ask. I do love talking about recommendations and I have a number of Chase whump fics on the bookmarks list, as well as a few quick one shots I've enjoyed. Would love recs from others as said - The more angst the better. :)

[icyhotheartwritings]

Astarion/Tav/Karlach may not be possible in the game but it’s real in my heart

[limpfisted]

So in dnd canon player characters CANT turn into devils. And in fact, if bg3 went by regular rules, wyll would just have been punished by having a few devil features

But the game INSISTS his soul was dragged thru hell and he's a devil now

Tbh this makes no sense bc he doesn't look like any of the many kinds of devils. He just has horns and a tiefling eye

But there are fun ways to play with wyll and being a devil regardless

As well as the fact that his "soul" is owned by a devil

So here's a quick round up of some of my own homebrew wyll is an actual devil now hcs

Wyll is naturally lawful good. As a devil, he is tempted ever more by violence and taking advantage of others, but also "deals." While wyll cannot make a contract himself, he is hungry and greedy for high emotional connection and intimate promises. His own charred, damaged, and sold soul longs to nibble and draw the energy off of others, almost vampirically.

He doesn't act on these feelings. It doesn't mean he doesn't have them. Wyll even before the transformation was a person about control and repression. He thought he could CHOOSE and take advantage of his powers with mizora, the tadpoles, etc. Ironically, it may be his transformation into a devil and the want to make "deals" that helps nudge him in the direction of wanting to deal with mizora more to get out of his contract

Physical symptoms

Devils are hot, devils are smelly. Wyll is not used to his own blood and heat and smell. Its overwhelming. He feels feverish near constantly, he's almost always slightly damp with sweat

The weight of his horns and the new positions he has to sleep in give him headaches, and muscle aches. Hes used to being sore, but this is a new extra level hes not used to

In general I have the hc that bc mizora had a grip on his soul---he felt an icy grip in his chest and stomach all the time that made him feel uncomfortably full all the time, sometimes to the point of nausea

Now he STILL has that, but now he also feels hungry all the time, in a way food can't fill

There's also in general mood swings

Wyll is a very clean person who takes great care of himself and the way he presents himself

As a transmasc person going thru a THIRD puberty of sorts, he is now even more methodical about his skin care routine. He hates how much he sweats and he hates how he smells and he hates that his teeth don't fit in his mouth and he has to practice saying all the pretty things he wants to say even more than he already does in his head

Also its a cop out he turns back into a human, thats boring, these changes are just Forever and he gets used to them

In general I think wyll is growing wings! For a fun treat. Over time, wyll will be able to develop his own powers as a devil. He doesn't have mizora, but also he doesn't need her. He has claws and fangs and can develop his own magic if he practices. He doesn't know how to, so this would be an extremely long process that would probably only take place in his blade of avernus path

Tho he doesn't realize it he is now also functionally immortal except if he is killed in Hell

Why would mizora do this to him, u ask. Give him all this power. Its clearly not just a punishment

Well he wasn't supposed to get out of his contract... it was just a sneak preview of his life when he died and got sent to the blood war. These past 7 years wyll HAS been fighting the blood war as one of zariels minions honestly. I dont think mizora or zariel ever thought he would legimately break his pact. And even if he did. Hes a 26 year old human with a good, good, self sacrificial heart who thinks he can take on any evil and HAS to. Hes easy to manipulate

And furthermore. I think zariel and mizora have been watching "the heart of baldurs gate" all his life just waiting to strike

There are ends for wyll where he's in a pact with a devil, and is a devil, and is the grand Duke of baldurs gate

Even if wyll ISNT the grand Duke of baldurs gate

His father talks about being hellstouched himself now! (A story for another time, he says)

Wylls Origin bio straight up says he's a pawn in a war he doesn't understand

Will we ever know the hells plans for wyll! No! But I doubt even getting out of his pact is as big a wrench in mizora and zariel's plans as we are led to believe. If mizora legit cared that wyll wasn't in a pact anymore. Why is she still fucking here. (Go away no one wants u here wench. But I digress.)

[clazberryk]

An unfair hand has been dealt

Yes I know I am sorry it is Saturday not Friday, after work yesterday i just crashed I did not even play on BG3.

Anyway here is the new story part of the SOmetimes the unknown is safer series. I hope you enjoy.

An Unfair Hand has been Dealt- Chapter One: The Aftermath.

Astarion felt cold, icy tendrils, creeping through his veins, up his arms, frosty tips, causing his extremities becoming numb, this was not supposed to happen. How did this happen? He stared into the black inky void. He could not decipher any colour, he was in a permanent state of dark vision, shades of black and grey. There was no light, no shimmers of gold, or slithers of silver. The world had been plunged into monochrome and he found he did not care, or he could not care. Or was he just numb? If he were numb, he could manage that, move through the world like a shadow, when he was turned two hundred years ago. For what was the point? What was the reasoning of enjoying life and colour if he could not share it with her? He stood, his movements felt less fluid than normal, he felt like the ungraceful half-starved spawn he was when they first met. Unknowing that the blood of thinking creatures would sharpen his senses, improve his already preternatural abilities, and ensure he moved with a grace that even living elves could not achieve. Her blood had allowed him to become more, allowed him to feel more, and understand his vampiric abilities. Her blood that kept him alive and ran through his body, his veins, her life song, no longer singing.

Astarion stumbled, he felt the viscous liquid move up his system, through his stomach up his oesophagus and he gagged, bending over and stumbling to the ground he wretched, but nothing came up, as for a vampire he could not vomit, he could not expel her blood from his body, could not return it to the rightful owner. He wretched more, tears stinging his eyes and falling down his icy cold cheeks. He felt like freshly blown glass, which would shatter at any moment, however he could not bring himself to feel this pain just the emptiness that she left behind, that monochrome life that he would now live alone.

Isolated.

Unloved.

Devoid.

He stumbled to his feet again, Karlach came into his view, she gripped his shoulders and talked to him, he could not hear what she was saying. Someone had plunged his head underwater. He felt his head tilt to the left, was it in agreement he was not sure. Everything was blurry. Everything was muted, how do people go on, once there other half was taken from this mortal coil? We were supposed to have centuries. Centuries of growing together learning from each other. Centuries of preparing and getting use to the thought of not have Taveleigha in the world with him. Not a small, short handful of months. Astarion stumbled forward, and then fell to his knees, he knew the fall should hurt but he could not feel the sting of his knees hitting the stone floor without being braced or prepared, he scrambled to his feet again, and moved forward again, steadier than before. He would disappear into the darkness. Let the tadpole turn me! Someone was shouting his name, he thought it was Shadowheart, but he could not decipher voices, he could not hear with his full ability of his vampiric hearing.

“Astarion, wait!” Shadowheart called after the silver haired elf, again, but he just kept stumbling forward. “Astarion please” Shadowheart pleaded again, that caused him to stumble to a stop, he whirled around. Shadowheart’s words died on her lips, the look on Astarion’s face was one of loss and despair, what could she say that could comfort the vampire in his time of need. As the months moved by and their group travelled longer together, they had all grown to care for each other, it was clear everyone loved Taveleigha dearly and even their resident snide vampire, however the look Shadowheart could not bring him relief or comfort, for it was a look of total loss. A man that had lost purpose to his life, his once bright eyes glowed a darker shade of red, the bright rubies dimmed by the loss of their leader. Why could she not revive her? What was the point of being a cleric if she could not bring the one person back who deserved a life as much as anyone else. Why did Taveleigha had to die, and a man like Gortash still lived? It made no sense.

She gripped her Moonmaiden locket around her neck and bowed her head. For what could she say?

Karlach moved forward, and then bend down to pick up Taveleigha, she held the red-haired elf with such reverence Shadowheart strained to keep her tears at bay. Their revivify scrolls had not worked, nor had her spell of revivify she had expended several of her own spell slots, she only had one left, but she did not want to try the final spell in the room. She did not even what to be in this building anymore. Only moments ago, she had said goodbye to her parents, and once the moon motes had floated away did everyone realise that their resident read head was not with them.

The three of them returned to the main area, where the fight had started and finished, moments ago and found Taveleigha’s body under Viconia’s dead body. The elf was unresponsive, and a lot of blood was staining the marble floor around her.

“By the gods” Karlach had rushed forward with Astarion, both of them slipping and sliding in Taveleigha’s blood, how did such a small body hold so much. The vampire reaching his lover first. He pulled her into his arms, a vile parallel to how he held her in Murkyl’s chamber.

“Tavi, my sweet” He had pressed his head against hers, but he knew, he knew this time it was different, it had been too long. He was not a magical user to the extent of Taveleigha or Shadowheart, but he understood the spells that they had used and had been lucky enough to find an abundant amount of the scrolls that had been used on the members of their part throughout their travels. This time there was no saving her, regardless of the amount of attempts Shadowheart tried. Astarion had fallen back onto his bottom, his whole body going slack, and Taveleigha a dead weight on top of him. Everything around him filtered to the back of his vision, only focusing on the slack and now cold body of his partner, his equal. The feeling of dread snaking through his veins as that was quickly, almost instantaneously replaced by the ice-cold numbness of isolation, of knowing that his love was gone. His better half of him was no longer in the body he held against himself.

Shadowheart numbly followed the Tiefling, out through the way they came, once they came out of the House of Grief, Astarion was nowhere to be found, and the sun was mockingly bright. It was too much. They would broker too much attention if the two of them walked through the streets with Taveleigha to The Elfsong, it was not a quick walk to the tavern, they were on the other side of the city, near the entrance to the upper city bridge. Karlach turned to the cleric, adjusting her hold on Taveleigha, and waited.

“We could go to Jaheria’s it’s just down the street” Shadowheart suggested.

“Someone needs to go after fangs” Karlach whispered, keeping her voice low, almost as if she herself was working in autopilot just like she was.

“We need to let the group…...” Shadowheart stopped, a thought occurring, they needed to let the party know. They needed to inform Isobel. Oh, Gods Isobel. She looked out to the water, the little stream running under the current bridge they stood on.

“Hello…. Earth to Shadowheart!” Karlach stood in the half elf’s line of vision, and she snapped back into existence, rousing from her reverie. “Where did you go?”

“Isobel”

“Fuck!”

@roguishcat @shewhowas39 @asweetlovesong @lirotation @astarionancuntnin @asweetlovesong If you want to be tagged please let me know. I try and tag everyone that interacts with the snippets and the WIP's. i am sorry if i have missed anyone.

[melanie-ohara]

WIP Weekend: this really Baldurs my Gate

Or, Three Tavs and a Durge Awaken on a Nautiloid

This week, I've been mostly playing BG3 and I can't stop making new characters. I started wondering what would happen if all my tadfools hung out, and one thing led to another and -

A Nautiloid in Hell

It was raining in Rivington, and Emily picked her way carefully along the path to avoid the bigger puddles. The late afternoon was warm, and she didn't mind the kind of rain that came in fat, heavy drops. It plastered her pale hair to her face and stuck her robe to her back, but soon she would be home and she could change her clothes and stoke the fire in the grate before she started cooking the fish she had bought from the monger on Wyrm's Crossing. She reached the door of the cottage she shared with her ailing mother and wiped her boots on the mat before opening the door.

"I'm home!" Emily called, nudging the door shut behind her with her elbow as she kicked off her boots.

"Thank goodness," her mother answered from her armchair, without looking up from her knitting. "The fire needs tending."

Emily smiled and kissed her forehead. "Of course, mother."

She heaved another log into the grate and went to her bedroom to change while she waited for it to catch, and when she returned in a warm woolen jumper, she found it already roaring again. Her mother put down her knitting to talk with her while she took pans down from the wall and started on dinner.

Emily told her about her day at the Temple of the Open Hand, praying to Ilmater for the sick and the dying. Her mother managed to hold her tongue until the heads were boiling in a pot of water and Emily was carefully slicing fillets from the rest of the fish, but in the end she couldn't resist.

"Have you inquired at Sorcerous Sundries yet?" she asked.

Emily shook her head and tried not to sigh. "Not today," she said, without looking up from the fish. "I don't think it's a good idea. I'm not a wizard."

"You don't need to be to work there," her mother pointed out. "And you would make a fine librarian."

Emily melted a little lard in the pan over the fire and then laid the fish in it once it started to bubble. "I'm happy where I am," she said.

"At the temple? I know, dear, I know." She folded her hands in her lap and Emily tried not to notice the tremor in them. Her mother never mentioned their desperate need for more coin, but sometimes she wished she would - it'd make her selfishness harder to indulge.

"Maybe tomorrow," she said.

"Maybe tomorrow."

They ate together quietly. The next day, everything changed.

-

Emily awoke to a throbbing pain behind her right eye that sapped her strength and rendered her memory hazy. She had no idea where she was, beyond the fact that she was trapped in what felt horribly like a glass specimen jar. Something grey and chitinous supported her body, and beyond the glass she could see the impression of a cavernous room. A fire crackled, close and large enough that she could feel the heat against her body even though she couldn't see the flames themselves. She tried hammering on the glass, but it was an inch thick and resolute, and she gave up before she bruised herself.

There was no way out.

She had been in the Wide, the lower city market in Baldur's Gate, looking for fresh bread. The sky had cracked open overhead and something great and terrible had blotted out the sun. The memories rushed back to her in a flood of fear and panic: trying to run and getting shoved down by the crowds, people bursting into clouds of ash around her, and then the icy chill of something dark and cold against the back of her neck. She had time to think 'mind flayers', and then she was gone.

Something under Emily's pod jolted, and she felt the entire ship rock to the side with a groaning sound that almost seemed alive. The coffin lid hissed, and the acrid smell of sulphur and oil filled her nose - so thick she felt as though she could bite down on it. Emily shoved against the glass one more time and was so relieved when it slid up and away from her that she forgot about the poisonous reek of the air for a moment. She stumbled forwards on unsteady legs and fell out of the pod.

The vessel was in bad shape. A hole gaped in the wall, so large that Emily was nervous of falling out of it if she got too close. Outside, she could see swirling red storm clouds and jagged obsidian pillars floating a hundred feet above the ground. Her blood ran cold and her mouth turned dry. She had read enough about the Blood War to know where she was: Avernus. The Hells.

A flurry of fire and wings burned past the hole in the window and Emily felt the ship shudder again in response. It was under attack, and she was stuck on board. At the very least she wanted to find somewhere to hide before the hellions tore any more holes in the walls. Turning, Emily started towards the part of the room that looked most like an exit - a vile, twisted sphincter in the opposite wall - and made it halfway there before the glimmer of pearlescent orange eyes stopped her in her tracks. The mind flayer stared up at her from the floor, unblinking. The four thick tentacles that spewed from where a humanoid mouth would be were still. Its probing digits were limp. Dead. She breathed a sigh of relief, and was about to hurry on when she saw the other body - not a mind flayer, but an elf, dressed for the city in a fine, colourful doublet, sprawled awkwardly on their back. Emily could see from the rise and fall of their chest that they were still alive, and for the first time in twenty-five years she considered deserting her duty as a cleric of Ilmater. It would be so much easier to leave this stranger to the mercy of the Hells and leave. Instead, Emily steeled herself and picked her way gingerly to their side. The ground around them was slick with some foul bile that made her retch, but she kneeled by their head and carefully shook their shoulders until they stirred.

"Please wake up," she whispered. Her voice wouldn't be audible over the wind rushing in through the hole, but she still didn't dare risk speaking too loudly.

The elf moaned and lifted their head.

"Careful," Emily cautioned, trying to stop them rushing to their feet. "I think you hit your head."

"Something happened to my head alright," the elf grumbled as they sat up. Emily noticed too late the rapier on the ground next to them, and before she could react it was back in the elf's hand. She half expected an attack, but none came.

"Do you know what happened?" she ventured, once she had helped the elf to their feet.

The elf gestured at a shattered basin the size of her cottage fireplace. The briny bile on the floor oozed from it. "I touched something that didn't want to be touched," they explained.

"I meant about how we got here," Emily clarified.

"Not a clue," the elf said, their eyes searching the ground for something. "You don't see a violin around here do you? I had it when I woke up."

Emily stared at them blankly for a moment. "You're worried about a musical instrument? Now?"

"Aha! There you are," the elf said, picking up their violin from the floor and brushing it off against their sleeve. It didn't do much to clean off the brine and silvery mind flayer blood, but they seemed satisfied. "This is much more than a mere instrument," they said as they fiddled with the tuning pegs. "It's my muse, my weapon, and my most loyal companion." They gave Emily a deep bow, accompanied by a flourish on the newly tuned instrument. "Mellephora Lallorē, artisan extraordinaire and bard of consummate ability."

"Uh… Emily. Of Rivington."

Mellephora paused for a moment, as if they expected more, and then nodded politely. "Baldur's Gate," they said, with a touch of their hand to their chest. "Now, Emily of Rivington, I believe it's time we - ah!"

Something lurched in Emily's head and suddenly she was looking at herself from the outside - from Mellephora's eyes. Thoughts flickered in her mind and it took her a moment to realise they weren't her own: whatever had joined them was giving her a peek into Mellephora's brain. Their confidence was an act they dearly wanted to believe. When they looked at Emily, the phrase 'lost pup' drifted through their mind. And then, as abruptly as it had started, the connection ceased.

"Hells," Mellephora gasped, clutching at their head. Emily felt like her brain was going to burst, and she was acutely aware of a sensation like something wriggling behind her eye.

"Gods, what was that?" she managed to hiss through the pain.

Mellephora groaned and straightened up. "Must be the parasite."

"Parasite?"

Mellephora paused. "The mind flayers… how can I put this delicately? - they put vile little worms in our heads, I'm afraid."

Emily reeled in horror and disgust. "What? Why?"

Mellephora opened their mouth to reply, but was cut short by another violent rumble as something below them exploded.

"Suffice it to say, we don't want them there. Now, I think we should leave."

Emily nodded, and Mellphora strode towards the sphincter-like door, which peeled open as they approached. If Emily didn't know better from her trip behind the elf's eyes, she would be convinced by their sure steps and confident air. She hurried after them.

-

With their new companion trailing behind them, Mellephora advanced deeper into the nautiloid and tried to keep their mind off the tadpole in their head, but it proved easier said than done. Stepping through the next strange organic door, Mellephora and Emily found a huge section of the hull blasted away by fire and claws, and through the damage they could see what was laying siege to the vessel: red dragons, ridden by wiry humanoid figures Mellephora couldn't make out properly. They were squinting into the distance when Emily cried out a warning. Mellephora's gaze shot up in time to see a blur of armour soaring overhead, and a second later there was a sword point an inch from their eye.

"Abominations!" a voice hissed from behind the sword, and Mellephora lifted their eyes to look at her. "This is your end!"

Her green skin and pointed ears made her look almost like a fellow - if slightly serrated - wood-elf, but her flat, bat-like nose and the strange reptilian look of her eyes made it clear she was something else entirely. Before any of them could speak, their minds collided.

A red dragon. A silver sword. Gaik thralls. Planes beyond reckoning and battles through alien landscapes. A wood-elf and a human. A tadpole.

Mellephora felt themselves spat out of the stranger's mind and blinked away the pain rattling in their brain.

"Tsk'va, you are no thralls," the woman said, recovering much faster from the bout of pain than Mellephora or Emily. "Vlaakith blesses me this day! Together, we might survive."

"Vlaakith?" Emily said, more than a trace of uncertainty in her voice. "You're githyanki?"

"I am your only chance of survival," the stranger answered. "Come, we must fight together."

"Fight?" Emily asked, all but quaking in her boots.

The githyanki gestured. The sphincter bulkhead ahead had been torn through and inside a dozen imps tore at the flesh of a dead Mind Flayer and a barely-living thrall as he tried to fight them off. "They are between us and our freedom," she said, and then set off at a run. "Htak'a!" she cried as she plunged into the fray.

"We're not going to follow her, are we?" Emily asked. Her wet blue eyes were wide with fear, but it was the only way forward.

"Just keep your head down. Find a weapon too, if you can."

"Oh Gods," Emily whispered, but Mellephora didn't give her time to panic and ran after the githyanki.

-

Emily had never seen combat before, and within seconds she hoped never to see it again. The githyanki's sword cleaved an imp almost perfectly in half while strange blue and white strands of magic swirled around Mellephora's violin as they played, stopping only to insult a creature with such ferocity that it keeled over and died. The imps and their cambion masters had carved their way through the organic hull, leaving great tears and welts that oozed blood onto the floor. Emily stayed as close as she could to what remained of the walls as the fight raged, hoping she could go unnoticed. While she was cowering, a flicker of movement ahead caught her eye: she was sure something had just flitted across the balcony above her, but when she looked there was nobody there.

The snarl of an imp forced her to look back at the carnage, and she realised with horror that one of the creatures had spotted her and decide she was to be its next victim. The githyanki took a swing at it, but it swept out of the way of her blade with a swish of bat-like wings and then it was bearing down on Emily, scimitar raised and teeth bared. It was too late to scream, and she wouldn't give the hellion the satisfaction of hearing her fear. Instead, she closed her eyes and tried to find peace in the embrace of Ilmater. Death did not come. Instead, Emily heard a wet thud and and the imp wailing - a sound that was more pathetic than frightening. She risked a peek out of one eye and quickly wished she hadn't - the creature was reeling and whining, fingers grasping uselessly at a dagger that had pierced through its forehead. Emily didn't have to wonder for long how it had got there: with a flurry of dark cloth a figure dropped down from the balcony above and landed, blade first, on the top of the imp's head. It died with a wet gurgle and sunk to the bloody floor, the last flutter of its wings bringing her saviour gently to the ground.

[snowfolly]

For the bg3 fic writer asks: 🌊🫧🪐

Thanks so much for the ask, Icy!

🌊What moment in the game had the strongest emotional impact on you?:

Oh GOOD GOD — I will never ever forget the first time I did Cazador’s stupid fucking mansion bc it BROKE me.

So, I played that part a few times on the same day (to see the different endings bc that’s the person that I am lol) but after that I literally had to stop playing the game for a few days bc I guess I was trying to process my feelings about all of it. I’ve never had that happen before and I guess it’s bc I am so invested in Astarion that it irrevocably bruised my soul.

Seeing the spawn quarters and that fucking awful budoir, reading all the notes and hearing all of his comments that were tinged with fear and bitterness — just the devastating hopelessness of it all was all so very crushing. Broke my heart — still does. Poor Astarion.

🫧If you were to write a BG3 AU, what universe would you pick?:

Honestly I haven’t really thought about it! I’ve been so caught up in DND in general that I hadn’t given it much thought BUT idk… something about putting these elves in the LOTR universe sounds strangely appealing to me now lol

🪐Who’s your favourite non-companion character, and why?:

I love Raphael bc he’s such a smarmy bastard and he has the best damned voice 😂 truly, need to do something fun with Raphael (AND SHOVEL, does Shovel count? I adore that awful little shit lolol)

[typhonist]

gah i keep forgetting to announce these on social media but

I've been playing bg3 with my friend, Icy on Fridays and I'd love if you joined us!

We're in the creche, about to go yoink that mace.

[upwards-descent]

Playing BG3 and since I've spec'd Gale into an ice wizard, I have a greater chance of creating an icy surface (for the unitiated, there's a chance for a character to be Prone after slipping on ice which knocks you down and halves your movement)

I sent Kkang to clean up after Gale iced a guy and was shocked when Kkang actually slipped and istg my boyfriend looked at me immediately and went "I knew that'd happen but I wanted to see grandpa dragon eat the ground"

😭

[mumms-the-word]

A Macabre Masquerade - Ch. 2

Ch. 2 - Getting Ready

Characters: Tavs (multiple), Gale, Astarion, Karlach, Wyll, Lae'zel, Shadowheart, Halsin, Minthara + other OCs Plot: One year after defeating the Netherbrain and saving the city, Dani and Gale receive a mysterious invitation to a masquerade ball. The invitation specifically invites them to participate as the Heroes of Baldur's Gate. However, when they get there, they soon realize they aren't the only Heroes of Baldur's Gate that got invited. A/N: Designing outfits for Dani and Gale ended up being so hard for me, but I can't wait to show off some descriptions of other Tavs/Durges/Companions when they get to the party. Should I post my inspiration pics? Maybe~

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | BG3 Masterlist | AO3

Dani was just putting the final touches of her outfit together, sliding a few gold filigree rings onto her horns until they fit snuggly, when she saw Gale step into view in the reflection of her full-length mirror. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and pressed a kiss to her cheek before resting his chin on her shoulder.

“Nearly ready, my love?” he asked.

“I think so.” She glanced over her reflection quickly in the mirror before turning and bringing Gale to stand side by side with her, her arm linked in his. “What do you think? Are we fit to be seen by high society?”

He tilted his head, studying their reflections, and she in turn gave them both another lingering once-over. She was dressed in an elegant sleeveless midnight gown embroidered with golden swirls along the bodice and a pattern of gold embroidered feathers twisting and curling upward from the hem of her skirt. She felt sexy with her low plunging neckline, nearly to her navel, showing a tantalizing hint of the curve of her breasts. Her back was mostly bared as well, though she had draped a silky gold wrap around her shoulders in anticipation of the night chill. The blue fabric of the dress was soft and draped easily from her hips, weighed down by the elaborate embroidery. It was easily the fanciest and most expensive dress she owned, even having spent the last year filling her closet with finery to wear to dinners with patriars and celebrations for newly restored buildings in the city. She felt almost overdressed, like she were playing pretend with a costume on a stage. 

But then again, it was a masquerade. Everyone would be dressing up and pretending to be someone else for a bit.

Gale, in comparison, looked more than at home in his well-tailored attire, consisting of a dark high-necked shirt buttoned all the way up, an open midnight brocade coat that fell halfway down his calves, and dark trousers to match. Warm golden embroidery shimmered along the edges of his coat and around the buttons of his purple waistcoat, and he had added a sash that crossed from shoulder to hip and around his waist in the same purple shade. He’d tied back sections of his hair into a little bun at the back, fastened with a bit of purple ribbon, the tails trailing down, and he’d swapped his silver earring of Mystra’s eight-pointed star for a gold feather charm that matched all of Dani’s gold jewelry for the night. Dani wore the other feather earring as one of her many earrings. He looked like a prince in a fairy book, especially when his expression shifted to one filled with love as he gazed at her in the mirror.

“You certainly do,” he said in response to her question, turning to kiss her cheek again. “You look absolutely stunning.”

She pursed her lips at her reflection, reaching up to pull some of her two-toned hair over her shoulder. She’d styled her hair a little differently, going with a high ponytail that left her waving, slightly curling locks cascading down her back, but kept her usual fringe pieces to frame her face, freshly dyed a pale, icy blue. She did feel beautiful, but she couldn’t shake the silly notion that she’d blink and it would all disappear.

She knew that it wouldn’t, of course. She was there when they tried on these outfits in Figaro’s elegant shop and she remembered watching Gale hand over a hefty bag of coin to pay for them. She was there when they’d trusted the custom tailoring to her mother, as the dress needed altering to accommodate Dani’s tail and Gale wanted the jacket a bit more fitted (plus it gave them an excuse to visit her mother). So there was no denying the dress on her body was more than a figment of her imagination. It was just taking some getting used to.

“You do know how to go all out, dressing for a fancy patriar party,” Dani said, smoothing her hands down her skirt. “This is fancier than my wedding dress.”

“You don’t dislike it, do you?” Gale asked, pulling back to look at her, expression suddenly concerned. “You should have said—“

“No! No, I love it. Hells, I look like a princess.” She fidgeted with her wrap, not being used to it. She didn’t like it covering her shoulders but she felt matronly with it limply draped around her arms. She was half tempted to just toss it to the side or tie it in a sash around her waist. “Is this how people dress all the time in Waterdeep? City of Splendours and all that?”

“Only if you’re of a particularly fortunate class,” Gale said. “Though among wizards it’s not unusual to see someone charm their outfit or cast a lingering illusion to make their shabby robes look better than they are. The Blackstaff Ball could be positively insufferable with apprentices and alumni trying to outshine one another with elaborate illusions.”

“Oh?” Dani grinned and tilted her head. “That sounds fun. Would we have passed muster at a Blackstaff Ball?”

“As we are now? Absolutely. But there’s nothing wrong with adding a bit of sparkle to an already stunning visage, is there?” He chuckled, but his eyes drifted back toward the mirror, lingering on both of them. He looked almost…wistful. His mind a thousand miles away.

Dani felt a pang of guilt, all too familiar. For an entire year she and Gale had lived in Baldur’s Gate, working to rebuild the city out of all the destruction the Netherbrain and a hoard of mind flayers and dragons had caused. She was fiercely proud of their work, especially Gale’s role in navigating the reconstruction efforts. He'd been indispensable. His verbosity, charm, and intelligence were essential to all the schmoozing, wheeling, and dealing they’d had to do with patriars, the upper ranks of the Flaming Fist, guild masters, and even civilians themselves. But every now and again, like now, a tiny bit of doubt and guilt would worm its way into her head, chiding her for stealing Gale away from the city that was his home. Even as he settled comfortably in Baldur’s Gate and spoke of establishing a small wizarding school or they spoke excitedly of their next book idea, she couldn’t completely ignore her doubts.

Baldur’s Gate was her home. It was the city that made her. But Waterdeep was his, and it was the city that made him. Yes, he had been the one to suggest he move to Baldur’s Gate when he proposed, but…had she been too selfish, asking him to stay with her?

She pushed the doubts aside for now. If she let herself linger on them too long, she would convince herself that she wasn’t worthy of him. That she wasn’t worthy of anyone, really. And she couldn’t let herself go down that slippery slope just yet. She wanted to be selfish just a tiny bit longer.

She turned and looped her arms around his neck, kissing just at the corner of his mouth, a sweet hint to wake him from his reveries. “Then why not add a bit of extra sparkle, just for us?” she asked, hoping to cheer him up. “A bit of dazzle. A touch of magic.”

He smiled and wrapped an arm around her, turning his head to kiss her properly. “You don’t need any extra sparkle, my love,” he said. “Not when you’re already perfect.”

She giggled and shook her head. “You and your words. We both know I’m not perfect. So go on, then. Indulge me.” She stepped out of his embrace and did a little spin. “Make me look as beautiful as I might appear at a Blackstaff Ball.”

“You already look more beautiful than most at a Blackstaff Ball,” he said, but he put a hand to his chin, clearly thinking through possibilities. She smiled and waited, curious to see what he might come up with. Sure enough, after a second’s thought, his eyes lit up as he landed on an idea.

“Hold still,” he said. He held up a hand, palm toward her, and murmured an incantation. 

She didn’t catch the words he whispered, but she felt the pull of magic. She’d become far more attuned to it after living with Gale for a year, though she still preferred to cast her spells via music. She closed her eyes, feeling the threads of magic shift around her until the spell seemed complete. When she opened her eyes again, turning toward the mirror, she gasped with delight.

Gale had turned her wrap from a drape of gold silk to a cascade of gold feathers, glimmering with metallic beauty. She ran her hand down the feathers and found them soft and flexible, but not downy like real bird feathers. An artist’s rendition, a craftsman’s interpretation of feathers, sculpted in flattened gold. They shifted easily as she adjusted the wrap over her shoulders and held out her arms, admiring how it made her look like she had wings.

“You do know how to impress a girl, darling,” she said, grinning and taking his face in her hands for a big kiss. “Now I really feel like a princess in a fairy story. How long until my little spell lasts? Until midnight? Am I expected to scurry home before I start molting golden feathers?”

He chuckled again, looping his arms comfortably around her waist. “No scurrying necessary. Your feathers will last a full twenty-hours. I should hate to embarrass you by letting the illusion fall too early.”

“You’re the best,” she said, kissing him again. “But what about you? Don’t you need a bit of dazzle?”

“Why should I, when I will have you on my arm, my love?”

“Oh stop it,” she laughed, pushing playfully at his shoulder. “You can think of something, surely.”

“Well…I did have one or two ideas,” he admitted, giving her an all-too-familiar grin that was both sheepish and smug.

“Well, go on then. Show off for me and then let’s get going.” She stepped back to give him room and gestured for him to get on with it. 

He shook his head slightly, amused, but then passed a hand over his clothes. He murmured another spell and she watched as the embroidery of his brocade coat, the slightly bluer threads that made up a bland repeating floral pattern against the darker blue of the fabric, shifted and re-threaded into a new pattern. When the spell was complete, the fabric of his coat had gone from a standard floral brocade to a pattern of embroidered feathers, faintly blue against a midnight-dark background. As she watched, the feathers seemed to shift and glimmer faintly, as if moved by a faint puff of air. It was subtle, almost unnoticeable unless you happened to let your gaze linger, but the overall effect was enchanting.

“There,” he said, turning to glance in the mirror. He gave his reflection a self-satisfied nod. “Now we match. Birds of a feather and all that.”

“I love it,” Dani said, wrapping her arms around his arm and resting her chin on his shoulder. “We’ll be the envy of the entire masquerade.”

“Speaking of, we’ll be late if we don’t hurry.”

“Late? We’re the heroes of Baldur’s Gate. The party doesn’t start until we arrive.”

“I’ll leave you to tell that to the doorman or whoever bars us from entry when we arrive after the appointed time, my love. You always were the more charming of the two of us.”

He adjusted her hold on his arm so that he was escorting her properly, her hands nestled in the crook of his elbow. As she straightened up and met his warm brown eyes, she found him gazing fondly, lovingly, his smile gentle. Despite his warning about the time, his eyes never moved from her face, slowly taking in every detail of her appearance. Her hair, her earrings, the decorations on her horns, her makeup, all of it. 

“You look beautiful,” he murmured. “Like a dream.”

She ought to be used to his words, but something about the way his gaze lingered, the tenderness in his expression, it made her flush as though this were the first time he’d ever said such things. She was at a loss for words, wanting to say the same back but thinking that it might trivialize the moment if she did.

At her silence, he leaned in for a slow, sweet kiss. She let her eyelids flutter closed, melting into the kiss, until at last he pulled away with a soft-spoken, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she whispered.

“Ready?”

She took a deep breath and nodded, giving his arm a little squeeze. Her heart fluttered with sudden excitement. A masked ball! And they looked gorgeous. It really did feel like a dream.

“Ready.”

[wetbloodworm]

sure this can go over on this blog. anyway, human/non-dnd au abaddon, specifically intending to be gta au here. also playing with the haircut she gets later on. instead of the red eyes she gets those like. vivid icy husky eyes, as was my first instinct when thinking 'what's visually just slightly unusual or at least striking but still realistic'. 'avi the black sclera on the one eye isn't realistic what's going on there' don't worry about that.

rambling about her role in gta au some below. it's going under a cut because like... TECHNICALLY it's not bg3 dark urge spoilers DIRECTLY but i've loosely translated that story into original terms so it feels like essentially spoiler territory. there are enough spoilery elements that i'd prefer it stays under a cut.

abaddon sacre is the daughter of salvator sacre (his crime name being charon), incarcerated serial killer and former leader of the Empty Eyes gang who was caught after a thwarted mass murder attempt and continues to manipulate her from prison through his external network. extremely brainwashed, she was raised to essentially follow in his footsteps, both in taking over the gang once she's older and in plotting to wipe out the city and everyone in it. happily continued her dad's legacy after he was arrested, though she was too young to take over the gang at the time, and instead continued her rise through the ranks to the become one of the few expected choices for future leadership. incredibly cruel and destructive though more willing to show restraint than her competition, her eventual downfall was her fondness for one of her competitors causing her to hold off on making her grab for power for too long until someone else acted first. cassius, who would become the leader after this, attempted to kill her, though she survived. just with, y'know, massive head trauma resulting in severe long-term amnesia. abaddon wakes up in a hospital with no/limited memories and no clue who she is. violent inclinations and lack of resources drive her back to crime, but without the worst of the brainwashing she's able to find her own morals and make her own decisions and becomes a significantly better person than she used to be. people don't typically leave the Eyes outside of body bags, though, even if they don't remember being part of the Eyes, and her father notices very quickly the lack of reports from his connections outside prison, so abaddon's got THAT shit coming after her eventually alongside the general horror of hearing from third parties just how terrible she used to be.

ez came up with most (all) of the Empty Eyes lore and i remembered a bit she said about sclera tattoos being a thing among the higher ups, so that's how abaddon still has the one funky eye in this au! love it especially here because it doesn't really have too much meaning in a dnd setting, like it's unusual for what people perceive to be a half elf but not TOO weird. here, though, that is a rare and very visible tattoo that, in this city, is associated with an extremely dangerous street gang. abaddon waking up in the hospital already very confused, not understanding why the nurses and doctors are so nervous around her. seeing herself in the mirror for the first time and just being like [softly] what the fuck? what the fuck??