#ilithid dreams

[maemil]

So I just hit act 3...

[omoghouls]

Also, did have a dream last night about fucking an ilithid

This was after my friends and I were in a helicopter that was in a camo that would hide us as we flew out of the atmosphere but then one of my friends stuck their head out and that made us un-camo and the ilithid's found us and kidnapped us to their lair- and I guess we were all marked for something so they carved bits of our flesh out and then later on they all gave us video games for being brave

And then one of the ilithid wrapped it's tentacles around me and we fucked

[elfcollector]

the emperor: you may call me the emperor delight: i would sooner die, thanks

[pinkfey]

lore recap under the cut!!

so dazzle spent much of her childhood performing in a circus with a bunch of other children. singing, juggling, tightrope walking, aerial acrobatics, you name it!! she was the star 🌟 she had a captivating smile and a sharp, intelligent demeanor and the crowd loved her—that's where she got the name!! and she hated them for it.

one year during the troupe's tour, they stopped at a small little village that dazzle thought was weird and creepy because there seemed to be no children?? not even babies??

lo and behold !! weird fey shit had been happening !!

it was a hag 🙄

with the promises of love and acceptance—a family—the hag lured her and stole her away to the feywild. but, shockingly, she didn't eat her. dazzle was part of a deal.

after some time, a man arrived. he said he was her father and that she was to come with him (he was not her father, but dazzle was so scared that she went anyway).

he did not harm her. he offered her everything there was to offer. she called him papa, but she didn't know if she meant it. if this is what love and family feels like. then he introduced her to his circle.

an eclectic and ravenous bunch whose numbers grew every day. the cult of hyrsam they called themselves, claiming their trickery, celebration, and revelry were in reverence of him. hyrsam himself would have seen through their guise in an instant, but had he known the truth, he'd have cursed them for smearing his name with their bullshit.

in actuality, the cult sought to ascend the First Disciple™️ to archfey. he leeched on the minds of their young over centuries, using them to lure and indoctrinate more through their charm and song. they had to love him, they had to be devoted to him, they had to believe in his message wholeheartedly, and to claim the proselytizing of hyrsam's wiles was the perfect fit. it was the only way.

very few know this.

YIKES !!

so 😶 over the course of six hundred years—years that, in the feywild, dazzle experienced as a mere decade—dazzle went mad. much of her own history is lost to her now, as is her mind. she doesn't like clowns. she's afraid of old women. the scent of mulch drives her to tears. she doesn't remember why.

she's trusting now; her fortitude has worn down. she will follow anyone. open wound, bleeding heart, lamb to the slaughter. she'll drive a knife into her own chest and thank you for it.

with the tadpole, however, much of her energy has returned to her. she doesn't feel so........... hazy. it's as if a fog has been lifted, but she's not sure what it concealed in the first place. she'll never recover what was taken from her, and centuries of coerced agreeability have taken their toll, but she has the mental clarity to make her own decisions now—poor as most some may be.

the horrors are never ending, but she stays silly :3

razzle dazzle *:・ﾟ✧

[pursuitseternal]

“Scald Me:” Let the Vampire Lord Astarion tend to your every comfort, 🔥 update to “The Rogue You Were”

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader | E | 3K of comfort, bath sex

Summary: you have those nightmares again, filled with death and fear and tentacles. You seek comfort alone, wanting to scald the fear from your body, but only one man’s attentions will give you what you seek… and more.

CW: soft!Ascended Vampire Lord, Tav ptsd dreams, one scared maid, comfort, dexterous hands washing your hair, bath sex, tub sex, one very wet tile floor…

Ao3 link | Astarion Fic Masterlist

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Months since you’ve turned immortal. Months since your nights on the road, your days covered in blood and your mind racing with the thrill of danger and the constant mystery that was your life.

You have a palace, a lover, your immortal life protected from enemies. Your nights are spent in orgasms and luxury, your days still involving blood, but not of your enemies. Only his. Only Astarion’s blood, rife with his Ascended power that he keeps flowing into you as well.

But still, the nightmares come, the feeling of death breathing down your neck, the ghost of a squirming tadpole in your brain. The faces of those lives you took sometimes flit before… enemies and innocents, monsters and villains. You wake sweating in your sheets, hands still feeling the stick of blood.

You still hear his ghost sometimes in your head, your Dream Visitor, before you knew who he truly was�� Even undead, powerful and loved, you are haunted.

The fear of becoming an Ilithid, the need to fight and flee, it still runs hot in your cold blood.

On nights in your bed, you cuddle into Astarion for comfort, for warmth. The one thing that grounds you and protects you from those lingering phantoms.

But today, you wake alone, your lover yet returning from business outside the City. The chilling sweat makes you feel well and truly dead. You need to get warm, to wash away the hovering darkness of your trauma.

You rise from bed, eager for your morning bath. Something to warm you from the chill of your memories and chase the fear from your shivering body. Crossing into your bathing room, the maid, some little new thing hired, already pours the last pitcher of steaming water into the enamel tub. She shakes as you enter, her eyes cast away. But you thank her, regardless of her deference…

Until you dip your hand into the water. The waves of your angst, your irritation, they reach their own boiling point.

“This water is cold,” you snap. Your head lifts with ferocity to stare down the girl. She is young, shivering. But so were you once. “Unacceptable,” you hiss. “Would you have made it so for the Master?”

“N-n-no, my lady,” she fumbles quietly, keeping her head lowered. You can’t even see her face.

“Am I not also powerful? A hero of the City?” you feel the swell of your wrath pouring out, misguided, misdirected, but it feels so good to let it out regardless. “I want this water hot. Scalding. Enough to boil the flesh from your skull if you fail me again.”

“Tch, tch,” a warm, velvety voice pours over from the doorway behind you. “My consort, you don’t need to threaten to prove your power, darling.”

You spin, Astarion locking eyes with yours. He leans against the frame, handsome as ever, his hair just a little more unruly than normal, you perceive. Instantly he assesses your state, your inner turmoil, your hurt, your rage. And he meets it with a distant look of concern. “Run along, girl, and fetch your mistress water hot enough to scald her.” He jerks his head, the servant instantly rushing out of the room. If she is crying, she holds back her tears until she is clear of their sight.

Frozen, dread rushing in your veins, you can only grip the edge of the tub and let your body shake. The tremors don’t even cease once you feel his warm hands on your shoulders, rubbing them gently to bid the tension away. “You really should save your fangs and threats for our enemies, you don’t need the practice on little girls who will only cry themselves senseless at your power, my darling.”

You say nothing, swallowing as you stare at your reflection in the water. The hardness and pain in the new crimson of your eyes stares back. A transferred gift of Astarion’s power, it seems—your lasting reflection.

His touch leaves one shoulder, dipping his fingers in the bath, little ripples running away from the intrusion. “My dearest, why, this water is hot enough to turn you to a broth. Why don’t you get in?”

You hear the comfort in his tone, his gentle attempts to soothe you where you feel raw and frightened. But you can only hiss in reply, “Why don’t you get in then?”

“If you insist,” he croons, and you hear the slip of his clothes from his perfect, lustrous skin. “A long day of threats and placating, of flying back to your side the moment I could sense your fear in your sleep… I’ll need some extra rejuvenation to stay looking this good for you, my treasure.”

Your breath hitches, body frozen at the weight of his words, hidden behind his bravado. “You… you could sense it…”

He says nothing at first, waiting half-naked beside you, pale chest just perfect as the steam swirls around you both. Eyes searching yours, he takes his damp hand from the tub to smooth your hair off one shoulder. A simple gesture done hundreds of times already, a precursor mostly to feeding. Or fucking. But this time, it meant neither.

These were tender, little petal-soft strokes on your skin. Meant to soothe. He slips your dressing gown from your shoulders, careful not to touch your skin too much. “I can sense your pain as your maker, do not forget, be that a prick of your finger or the torment of your dreams.” His voice is soft, flowing over your shoulder, wrapping you in that purr, that velvet caress he uses to soothe you back to him.

For those times you are trapped again in fear and tentacles and gore. The times he assures you that you have not only his blood, his power, his protection, but his heart as well.

Mercifully gentle, his hand steadies around yours, moving it to caress the surface of the water. It sucks your fingers in, flawless surface breaking to take in your touch. You feel it this time, the warmth of the water, the heat of his hand pressed into the back of yours. You shiver. But his touch grips firmly around your hand, encouraging you to step inside the waters fully.

Steam sweeps around you, mist brushing your face, laden with sweet oils of orange flower and citrus. Sharp and clean and luxurious. One leg sinks into the bath, then the other. But nothing is as hot as the way his touch scalds you, softly guiding you down into the warm embracing waters.

You sink to your neck, gasping after a moment. After you realize his touch has left your flesh.

“Astarion,” you call, that old dread of waking alone with only your pain as friend grips fast on your heart once more. Spinning, the water slashes roughly over the enamel edge.

“Tch,” he sucks his teeth as he withdraws, the water soaking his pale skin, dripping down his legs, still half-clothed. “If money were a concern, I’d chide you for ruining these silks, my love.” His smirk warms you, your eyes now filled only with the sight of him.

His lustrous skin covered in rivulets of scented water, his muscles flexing as he frees himself of the rest of his drenched and ruined trousers. Even that sight of his softened cock makes you flush warmer as you glance it between his legs. Your chest eases as his eyes lock solely into yours. That now matching shade of crimson, that matching fang-toothed smile… you give him no room, forcing him to climb into the waters by sliding his ruinous body right down yours.

Not that he cares, not from that steep-angled tilt of his head or from the heavy, half-lidded gaze he rakes over your chest.

The slosh of water smacks the tile floor as he pulls you close, one hand sweeping a palm full of water to wash the tear streaks from your cheek. “You will have to thank me, to congratulate me, I have never flown so quickly from Waterdeep in my life, undead or not, when I felt your dreams,” he whispers.

“Flown?” you try to tease, but even that single word sounds forced and hollow in your tight and ravaged throat. “Mist… bat…?”

“Mist is far faster you know, my treasure,” he keeps his voice soft and rolling deep in his chest as he pours another handful of water to wash your neck. “And I was in such a state to hurry to your side.” His hand presses your cheek now, turning your face into his. “More memories of our… journey?”

He was careful in his words, as you are with him. You never mention his former tormentor and master, he never mentions the Emperor or Ilithids or the Absolute. Not unless you first bring them up.

Your breath shakes, but you nod. “It was…” you stop. The images that flashed in your dreams returning just as violently as before.

The warmth of his thumb strokes your lips, softly willing them to continue. “I’m all pointy ears, my treasure…”

That makes you grin reluctantly. Words you once heard so often, imbued now with his purring, powerful tones. The words of the Spawn in the voice of the Ascendant.

And that pet name for you that took to your heart instantly. His treasure. His most precious possession, for the man that has everything and that can give you anything. The thing dearest to him in the world.

And right now, he is yours. You didn’t even need to ask.

A loud swallow passes over your dry throat. “I dreamt of it all again, the Nautiloid, the Netherbrain…” you close your eyes, shutting them tight as if you could block out the visions in your mind. “Friends reduced to ash, to tentacles, lost forever…”

His palm presses against the side of your head to draw you near until your forehead nestles in the crook of his neck, cradled on the plane of his shoulder. “You’re not alone in this, remember, none of us were, neither of us are now,” he whispers against the top of your head.

He falls silent, little cupping handfuls of water to dribble over your cheek, through your hair, and down your back. Its warmth is far from scalding, but it slowly begins to soothe. “When those same demons come to plague me, my darling, I like to remember that first sunset after the Brain fell. The way my head felt suddenly lighter once it was free, the way the sun still kissed my face, scalding my skin with almost the same heat that I felt for you, my need for you, my treasure.”

“Hmmm,” you pause, letting your mind drift over the softer moments you had shared. “Remember how rakish you were in the Grove, the night we defeated the Goblin Camp…”

“It wasn’t all smoke and mirrors, empty bluster you know,” his fingers lift from the bath, pinching your face softly. “My little treat. Your cheeks were so rosy and flushed. There was no better place to burn off your bloodlust than my bed, darling…” he purrs into your ear, that sensual curl in his voice, that honeyed seduction that still catches you off guard. You hope in all the ages you will share with him, it never ceases to jolt you right in your belly with lust.

“You still shiver so, darling.”

You do in fact shake, even as his arm holds you against his skin, even as the water does begin to seep into your bones. “Then warn me. Nothing makes me feel scalding like you can, my love,” you whisper, turning to meet his gaze. You are met with such intensity, such vivid concern, you don’t need a spell cast to know you worry him more than any other being in this realm or the next when you get like this.

“What do you have in mind, my consort?” he begs the question, even as his hand moves through the water, fingers pressing at your hip to guide you closer. To move you onto him.

You press a hand on his chest, bracing against his mighty strength when he wants you on his cock—already erect beneath the waters. You can tell. “Won’t you finish washing me first? Before you make me very, very dirty?” you simper, eyes wide and lashes batting. That lust makes your innards thaw, the stiffness of fear draining from your muscles as he feigns a look of disinterest as he considers it. “I’m sure there are other ways for me to feel scalding, blistering hot than just slipping your cocking between my legs….”

You swirl the water around that length, watching his smirk twist all the more at the motion. “Only because I do so adore you will I allow it. Even still, you will need to come closer,” his voice rings with that powerful, silken chime. His hands grip hard into your ass, using that weightlessness of the water to swish you onto his lap. The warmth of his skin caresses beneath your thighs, your ass. That comfort of his body grounds you like nothing else in these realms. And you sigh, most of your fear and tension melting away at last.

You close your eyes, those lithe and dexterous hands begin to pour water over your hair. More of that scented oils fills your nose as fingers so skilled at picking locks and stroking your clit scrub into your scalp. “Mmm, delicious,” you begin to smile.

And he chuckles slowly at the echo of his own flirtation flung back in his face. “Savor it, pet. I’m sure there are ways to repay my kindness for kindness shortly.”

“You don’t mean kindness…do you,” you tilt your head forward again, meeting his eyes, and instantly you aren’t wet between your thighs from just the bath water any longer.

“No, little love,” his hands pull you flush, belly to belly, hard enough to make his cock prod up against you. “I do not.” His hands grip hard into your sudsy hair, just a bit of divine pain tingling as he tugs it, angling you head back, bearing your neck as his eyes scan that pale column he hungers for still. “Now, be a good girl, let’s get you cleaned, and then you’ll know just how hot you make me.” His hands pour water down your head over and over again, and your eyes flicker shut. The reverence in his touch grows edged with desire, you can feel his haste. His cock twitches every time you breathe in deeply, deep enough to make your breasts drag their straining nipples against his chest.

You shake your head from the longer trickles, a devious grin on your lips as you scoop a palm of water. “What about your turn… wash that sweat off your curls as you hurried to my rescue?”

“You wouldn’t dare get these flawless locks wet, would you?” he feigns a snarl. “I will not look like a drowned cat when I finally warm you from the inside out, my pet.” Quicker than breath, he grabs your hand midair and sinks it into the blissful warm waters again. He gives you that wicked, mischievous giggle to punctuate the quiet before he wraps both sets of fingers around his cock.

Hotter than the waters. Hard and awaiting and twitching the moment you catch its pulse. You feel him slide deeper into the waters, lifting you up just enough to instantly slot himself between your thighs. You gasp, the fullness so familiar and arousing, so comforting to be fit perfectly again.

Water begins to splash over the porcelain edge behind him as you join at last. Slowly, you pace yourself, letting the waters warm your skin as you ride him. His eyes bore into you, flickering down every now and then to watch your breasts dipping in and out of the bath as you keep your rhythm.

Astarion keeps his hands clawed into your hips, grounding you among the swirls and splashes that lap around you. Those crimson eyes still scan all about you, observing every detail, every bat of your eyes and tremor of your lips. Making fully certain he chases away those lingering ghosts from you…

Just as you do for him.

His lips curl as you increase your pace, your fingers now clutched hard around the ivory lip of the tub. You ride him with abandon, water cresting in waves to drench the floor. But you’re sure your cunt is far more drenched. The slick inside you hot from the sweet pressure he gives you, the little thrusts he makes when you sink back down to crush his thighs.

Breath matches breath, his mouth so close, so open, you lose all sense of what air is yours or his. The little groans you make grow more ragged, his voice in your ear as you hang your head. Lost to the growing swell of pleasure in your belly. “My love,” he purrs. “My consort and queen… my most precious treasure…”

The muscles of his thighs clench beneath you, hips now slamming up into with haste and recklessness. Out of control, he arches back, head resting against your gripping hands on the tub.

But his words, his undoing inside you, it’s all enough to throw you into that heat he conjures under your skin.

Heat so burning, the gush of your arousal as you come does scald you. You can barely whimper his name, feeling his own shudders of climax take him. You feel your juices trickle between your thighs, hot to the touch before the waters wash it away.

Those damp, silver curls rest on your shoulder, their flawless swoops wet and heavy from steam as he nuzzles against your neck. “Feeling better?” he sighs softly. “Scalding enough for you?”

You run your dripping hand into that tantalizing hair, raising him off your shoulder. That look of smug satisfaction, that glow of his own climax, flushing his pale skin and sharpening his defined cheeks and jaw, it steals your breath. “Always with you, my love,” you reply. “Always scalding.”

[sewermageboy]

So what's a thing that y'all miss from Early Access?

The ones that come to mind for me are

1. how often the characters would comment on stuff you actually did in the world (like, killing Gandrel, rip Astarions "Who needs morals when you have good hair?") Also specifically miss being able to talk to everyone in camp the night you think you'll transform, instead of just getting the cutscene with Lae'zel trying to kill you.

2. the way that the tadpole powers worked. I liked the whole "who do you dream of" bit, how the tadpole was so clearly trying to seduce you to use its powers, how using ur Ilithid powers had actual consequences, especially in dialogues.

3. might be controversial, but I also liked it better when Gale's Arcane Hunger needed actually powerful magical items (like the Necromancy of Thay, the Idol of Silvanus or the Iron Flask). With how ppl have been complaining about him eating ur magical items, you'd think that's still the case, but the items he does absorb in my playthrough are all basically useless, which makes the whole "I'm so sorry, I know this is a lot to ask" thing feel very........... flat

[lakemojave]

Tonight at 6pm Pacific: The Direct Actors, A Baldur's Gate 3 "Adventure" pt. 19!!!

WE'RE BACK!!! Today we begin the 3rd season of our RP series and the 3rd act of the game! We've all had a hard time trekking through the Shadow-Cursed Lands and received some harrowing revelations, but we'll soon find out if the gang can pull themselves together! Come see @radiofreederry as The Green Knight, Elf paladin, @mayflowers429 and Nana as Leviathan, Dark Urge monk, @caputvulpinum as Micah Harper, Tiefling wizard, and myself as Delilah "Mama D" Harper, Halfling bard!

Character art by @bijillion, recap under the cut!

THE STORY SO FAR: On the way to a union rally, Delilah "Mama D" Harper and her grandson Micah were abducted and taken aboard an ilithid nautiloid, which they escaped with mysterious dancer Leviathan and the self-proclaimed "Champion of Ilmater and Paladin of Good" known only as the Green Knight. Each infected by a mind flayer tadpole, but so far immune from transforming into mind flayers themselves, The Direct Actors, as the party have come to be known, have arrived in Rivington, the gate to Baldur's Gate, and find themselves in the middle of a town with some big problems of its own...

LAST TIME: After defeating Ketheric Thorm and claiming his Netherstone, the Direct Actors prepared to depart the Shadow-Cursed Lands. As the rest of the party discussed their circumstances and the aftermath of the battle, the Green Knight scouted ahead for the road to Baldur's Gate, spending a lot of time alone in the shadows, dwelling in his grief. After dispatching an ambush of Githyanki sent by Vlaakith, the Direct Actors at last left the Shadow-Cursed Lands, just as the curse broke and the sun once again began to shine.

The party made camp just outside the town of Rivington as night fell along the Chionthar. As the Direct Actors settled in for the night, Micah was met by none other than the god Ilmater, who apologized to Micah for not being there for him in the suffering he had faced in his youth, and promised to be with him forevermore as penance, proclaiming that the position of his Chosen would be Micah's so long as he desired. Afterwards, Micah and the Green Knight talked, with the two reconciling after their previous fight and the Green Knight gifting Micah a new set of clothes he has acquired in town even as he waxed miserable about the nature of his immortality. Levi and Mama D, meanwhile, had a chat about both Lord Gortash, another Netherstone holder, and Mama D's emotional state.

As the party settled in to sleep, they were attacked by a horde of Gith, and followed them through a portal into the astral realm contained in the Astral Prism, where it was revealed that their Dream Visitor was in fact a mind flayer known as the Emperor, who held the Githyanki Prince Orpheus hostage, using his abilities to shield the Direct Actors from ceremorphosis. Everyone but Mama D had already figured this out. The party saved the Emperor, though the Green Knight vowed to return to free Orpheus and slay the mind flayer. Afterwards, as sleep took hold of the party, the Green Knight did... something that wiped his true name from their memories. Only Micah realized something had happened, and made it clear to the Green Knight that he was furious.

What did the Green Knight do? Will he and Micah ever be able to reconcile again? Will any more of Leviathan's memories return? Who is the sadistic shapeshifter known as Orin? What dangers lurk in the gateway town of Rivington? Find out in another exciting instalment of Baldur's Gate 3, starring the Direct Actors!

[dmsr-art]

I had a dream you wrote-drew a femboy corona au where Ianthe and Corona were twins where they were trying to hide the fact that Corona was both not a necromancer and not a girl because their parents had wrote down the wrong gender at birth and were too prideful to say they were wrong publicly and it was hot as fuck, because femboy Corona was just this overly prideful manipulative guy who was domming Ianthe and Kiri on the downlow without John knowing. Please get the this ilithid parasite out of my brain

FEMBOY CORONA??????? 😳😳😳 WAOW ANON.... share part 2 with me if u have another dream. thinking about how ianthe would still be obsessed with him but their dynamic would be a bit different wouldn't it.... i think i hauve covid

[thefloatingstone]

My apologies. I meant no bad faith. I was just surprised you hadn't come across that part yet.

Well I have only done one run and I have never been openly hostile and cruel to him. I know that if you turn him down, he accepts it and is fine with it. So I assume only if you are REALLY cruel to him and choose the dialogue options clearly expressing that you find him disgusting for being a mindflayer.

Because if you just turn him down normally he accepts, is disappointed, and moves on.

In which case, if you call him a disgusting monstrous mindflayer, is it REALLY so surprising for him to respond by showing you illusions of JUST how disgusting a mindflayer you think he is and lean into your belief that that is what he is? His entire THING is trying to placate you so you and him can have an alliance to kill the elder brain. If you lash out at him in anger and disgust, would it not make most sense to, instead of argue, agree with you and reinforce that image because it will at LEAST continue the alliance?

Not to mention The Emperor expresses very VERY obvious signs throughout the entire game that, for all his talk about being happy about being a mindlfayer and that he sees it as a positive, he is very affected by other people's judgement of him being a mindflayer. (Which is an interesting detail to think about how when that insecurity rooted itself in him because it is NOT from his own issues with being a mindflayer. Or at least he very earnestly expresses he views becoming a mindflayer as a positive which is why he encourages you to become at least part ilithid yourself)

But anyway

There are multiple situations, conversations and details where he shows he is overly self-aware on how being a mindflayer is judged by others. SPECIFICALLY in regards to him being viewed as a monstrosity. This is clearly a sore spot for him.

So if you call him disgusting? And if you hit exactly in the weak spot? Can you fucking BLAME him for lashing out and going "ok if that is what you think I am then fucking fine by me. Here I will even give you AMMO to think of me as a monster". resurrecting ironclad walls between himself and you on an emotional level so there can be NO mistake on where either of your feelings lie.

After all, lying to you about being an angelic dream guardian here to save you from your doomed fate didn't work. Why not then lean into the lie of being the ilithid abomination you think he is?

Also Anon you absolutely did mean it in bad faith because I kept answering you on why I liked the grey morality going on here and your response was to push more and more into "Ok but he did an evil thing" when you were not satisfied by my response. Do not insult my intelligence please.

[kaermorhenatnight]

Friendly reminder of some facts about the Emperor because I am tired of people defending him saying he did nothing wrong:

- In the first conversation you have (when he presents himself as the "dream visitor") he claims he wanted to be "free of this evil" for a long time, suggesting he means becoming a mindflayer, but later he says plainly that he never wanted to stop the process of becoming the mindflayer, because he WANTED to be ilithid. He believes it's a superior form.

- His friend (/lover) Ansur wanted to help him not become ilithid but he DIDN'T WANT THAT HELP. He wanted the power that being a mindflayer gives.

- If you confront him and don't fall for his manipulations (and only then): admits to pretending to have feelings and human emotions to manipulate you and basically tells you this is him being nice (but actually not, because he only does that cause he thinks you'd be more useful like that) because he could have treated you like his last "ally": Duke Stelmane, who he dominated and used as a puppet, destroying her brain and body in the process. But if you don't confront him he will claim that Stelmane was his friend, maybe something more, will make comments about how beautiful she was and recall how she hugged him when he needed it.

- We can learn something about his values even before he was a mindflayer from the Chamber of Insight, where he claims that prosperity of the city includes not really caring that citizens' rights erode and calling it "lesser issues" if you get more power thanks to that. Even the name of the chamber seems wrong: it should be called "Balduran's morality" if anything.

- He claims all he wants is survival when in fact he wants power: why would he create (edit: not create, but run) the Knights of the Shield and control a duke if he just wanted to live and be in peace?

- He claims manipulation and illusions are just his kind's language and you shouldn't hold it against him because it was the only way for you to trust him (i.e. do exactly as he says). If only there was another mindflayer with a mind of its own in the game that was honest and selfless and didn't try to manipulate you at all... (If Omeluum has 100 fans, I'm one of them. If Omeluum has 10 fans, I'm one of them. If Omeluum has 1 fan, I'm dead, it's Blurg.)

- He supports the alliance with Gortash, even though he is a slaver and a tyrant - doesn't really make him seem like someone who cares about the citizens of his own city wellbeing.

- The moment you do something he doesn't like, he rejoins the Netherbrain.

- It's not that big of a thing but when Vlaakith sends you to the Astral Prism to kill its occupant (Orpheus) he tells you not to and acts like it's him who you're supposed to kill. Vlaakith would literally kill you if you refused. And he still lies that she meant him, when he could've admitted that the power he uses to protect you comes from Vlaakith's enemy that's in the prism (but he claims HE has a unique power to do that)

- With all those lies and manipulations he still has the audacity to say "I never lied to you."

[swervinonalatenight]

So many have interpreted The Emperor Balduran as a meta commentary on the how the player interacts with game characters and acts as a mirror of how you’re character acts to others. Which is super interesting and props to the writers for it.

But I always see The Emperor, “The Character”, which is its own can of juicy worms.

I should start off by saying this. The Emperor is NOT Balduran.

Ceremorphosis in its final stages destroys the soul of the host and replaces them with a mind flayer that has some of the memories and experiences of the host. They are not a transformed version of the original. (So sorry to pull out the rug on those who want to save Karlach with ceremorphosis, but that’s not Karlach anymore, it’s an ilithid based on Karlach.) They cannot be resurrected, they cannot be recovered. Their fundamental nature has changed from whatever they were, into a new mind flayer.

With this in mind, we can examine The Emperor from the start of your first meeting. The Emperor lies to you. He comes to you in a form of a dream guardian, someone who appeals to whatever you or your characters ideal is. He is everything you would want from the start and promises to protect you if you help them.

When The Emperor does reveal himself as a Mind Flayer, he doesn’t do it willingly, when you have grown to trust him and he you, it’s when he was forced to, when all options of hiding are gone. IIRC he never says anything about revealing it to you, if he could he would have kept lying to you for as long as he needed. He plays off his deceit by saying that he needed you to trust him, that you weren’t ready for the truth, shrouding you in wool of “forces beyond your understanding”.

He catfished you.

Then next you talk he tries to relate, tell you of his exploits as a human. A noble act yes, but again, shrouded in mystery as to who he was. He says he only killed criminals to feed off of, but never what kind of criminals. Were they murderers? Petty thieves? Gang members? Someone who stole bread to feed a starving sister and their son? He never says, just “criminals”. He worked with someone to make the place better, only to have it turn out he mentally controlled her to the point of making her brain dead.

His best friend, most likely lover, saw he was sick and went from heaven to hell to try and get him better, while he said he was fine with how he was, until the point where his lover was unable to accept him being gone and he killed him in self defense. Only, as it turns out, his lover may have actually been trying to stop him from doing something evil.

He says he has a troubled, but understandable past that you should sympathize with.

He then comes to you shirtless, ‘vulnerable’. He says there is a connection between you two that has driven you closer, that you understand him and he you. He gets you, and thinks you should “get to know him”. He seduces you, and he’s happy if you go along, but if you refuse he sounds miffed, like he was banking on it happening. And he says he knows everything about you and what you want.

He uses sex and a perceived attraction as a means of gaining trust, started with a false sense of vulnerability.

When you do as he says, follow his lead and “trust” him, he acts happy, overjoyed that you trust him and that you are following your best chance at salvation. That you see Balduran, not a mind flayer.

When you don’t do as he says, not necessarily distrust and go against him, even just thinking “maybe there’s a better option” he calls you a fool, and idiot, an incompetent who will damn themselves and everyone else because they don’t follow his vision. Even in the end, when you say you trust him but killing s bound and helpless man who he’s enslaved and exploited to get this far is wrong and that freeing him is best. He immediately cuts all ties and goes to a higher form of authority to get back at you. He exploits your desires about you, using the dream guardians as fodder. All your desires are nothing but tools to break you down. He knows you, but since you defied him, he will break you for daring tho think against him at all.

Really, The Emperor is an abusive/manipulative partner. He breaks down natural barriers of trust with his words and charisma of “trying to help you” and that you are the only hope (“I love you so much, you are so much better than me”). But only in so much as you follow his word. (Why are you doing this? Aren’t we partners? Don’t you love me? I’m the only one who can help/love you!) He isolates you from the others by talking to you alone, wraps you in six different kinds of lies to protect your sweet precious mind. (DW, it’s fine you don’t need to think that hard about it baby. I will take care of everything you just listen to me) And the moment you decide any other way than his way may be better, he goes against everything he has ever said to you and joins with the thing that enslaved him before just to get back at you, using everything you gave him against you. (Why don’t you love me!? We shared so much together?! Fine! Hope you love getting harassed and swatted bitch!)

The Emperor never cared about like he said. He’s a mind flayer, you are just, a really important thrall to him. That’s all you ever will be. A mind flayer mind is so alien to the thought of “other races are ok” that the closest they can get is “my favorite slave”.

He cares about you only in so much as you ensure his freedom. Becoming a mind flayer, is his way of gaining total control, as you are now HIS ideal, alone from anyone else that may care about you.

[thistlearts]

Some thoughts on the Emperor again

I've been thinking about the game progression KNOWING about the Emperor's past, and now I see that what feels absolutely suspicious in the first place - the dream visitor trying to convince you to use the ilithid powers, is perfectly logical from the Emperor's point of view.

1. He was in your pace. He knows all means to find the cure are futile. It's just a painful struggle for nothing unless...

2. You live long enough to destroy the Absolute, but for that, you need all the power you can get. And if it's the power of a tadpole then it's better to use the enemy's weapon against the enemy as well. He knows from actual experience and knowledge you're NOT going to find ANY cure. No one is able to help you. Unless you destroy the Elder Brain. You don't know it at the beginning of your journey, but he does. And to him, it is probably a bit painful and even annoying to watch you struggle to find the cure and waste your time and energy on that while he knows for sure nothing is going to work. Of course, there's also a point that he actually wants you to become an ilithid and join him because he doesn't want to be alone any more. I will die on this hill that he's an anomaly among ilithids (as well as Omellum) and that he is sort of half-Ilithid half-human in terms of his motives, needs and desires. He clearly needs companionship that goes beyond just having thralls. That's why he doesn't mind control you, keeps you from transforming and leaves that choice up to you. But of course, he has an agenda to at least try to persuade to you take that route. But the greatest part of his motivation here is still the fact that he knows for sure, all your struggles are initially futile. And he's SO PAINFULLY honest with you about everything. I mean, it's so funny when people say that he lies. No, he fucking doesn't, Everything he tells you eventually happens to be true.

[maithefluffychicken]

Astarion/Gale bloodweave.

Gale has a gift for Astarion. SFW. Part 1 of ??.

Astarion had told Gale that he misses to admire his own face in a mirror. Petty vanity, Astarion has said back then, it feels like years ago.

It's been just a few weeks, maybe a whole month? Gale has lost track of time since the... ilithid abduction. And back then Gale had thought Astarion was just being dramatic, fishing for compliments, asking Gale directly what did he see whenever he looks at the vampire. Gale was taken aback then, both because Astarion is breathtaking in his ethereal beauty, his fangs a constant reminder of his dangerous nature... and because Gale had to face then the awkward truth that he was, indeed, developing intense feelings for the pale elf.

Gale praised Astarion that night, called him beautiful, and winced when Astarion seemed unimpressed by his words, no matter how much Gale tried to wax poetics about Astarion.

Now, Gale can read through Astarion cold, nonchalant facade. Now, Gale takes in every microexpression the vampire does, how his eyes flick quickly, taking in his surroundings, ready to flee or fight whenever he feels some kind of threat upon him.

Now, reaching Baldur's Gate, the tadpole still firmly and cozy nestled in their brains, with Gale's fate over his head like Damocles' sword... now, the wizard decides that he can spend his last nights on Faerun spoiling his favorite brat, the man that has raptured his heart.

"Gale, darling," Astarion calls, dragging every syllabe lazily, sighing dramatically. "What are you doing all by yourself in this ruined cabin?"

Gale shakes his head, amused. Astarion's voice send shiver down his spine, reminiscence of the dream-like nights they spent together, when Astarion still believed he had to use his body to keep Gale entertained.

"Ugh, this is so disgusting, oh look, a dead rat... What a waste... Gale? Are you playing hide and seek? Where are you, sweetheart?"

"I'm on the second floor, Astarion," Gale answers, unable to contain his smile.

"Gods, why? Come here, darling, I miss your face."

Gale does not giggle, he's an ass grown up man and he does not giggle, but he can't stop his cheeks from burning red. Of course, Gale obliges.

"What are you doing up there, dear?"

"I was just... meditating," Gale says, because he's scared to admit that he needed some alone time to psych himself to do what he's going to do now.

"Sure, alright," Astarion says, eyeing Gale with his head tilted up defiantly. "You missed dinner, I saved you some cheese and dry saussages, and bread, and that wine you fancy."

Astarion says, shrugging, as if does this for everyone everyday. As if this doesn't matter. Gale's heart does a mortal jump at this freely given love demonstration, and he's sure the vampire can hear how fast his blood rush thorugh his veins right now.

"Dinner, sure, thank you, beloved," Gale says, unaware of how the endearment falls from his lips until Astarion's face does that small wince, how his pupils blown, swallowing the red of his irises.

"Gale..."

"I have something for you," Gale blurts out. "I... could we find somewhere more intimate?"

Astarion seizes him up with his red wine eyes. Nods minutely. Astarion trusts Gale, knows Gale won't betray him, nor force him to do something Astarion is not ready yet. Gale would rather die to betray Astarion, and leaving the tray of food behind, Gale takes Astarion's cold hand and together they walk until Gale deems the landscape good enough for his gift to Astarion.

NEXT

Let me know if you want to be tagged in the next parts or in my Astarion/Wyll ficlet (coming soon) 💛

[unreadpoppy]

down by the river - Chapter 9

Raphael x Warlock!Tav

Read on AO3

Chapter 8

A/N: Okay we jumping cause we gotta move this story along. Also shout out to @sky-kiss for screen shotting the Mol scene for me, it was of great help! Also, many parts of the dialogues are taken from the game but modified to fit the story better.

After Halsin told the group that they needed to go to Moonrise Towers, Tav gathered everyone to decide on which way they should go: through the Underdark or the Mountain Pass. 

Lae’zel argued in favor of the latter, saying that there was a githyankyi crechè in the area and they would have to offer her cleansing. Shadowheart, however, favored the Underdark, considering that it would be a more discreet route. 

“I believe we could go through both.” Tav finally spoke. All eyes turned towards her. “We have means of exploring both regions, and then we determine which way is better.” 

‘And it would stop the two of them from bickering.’ Tav thought to herself. She turned towards the gith warrior. “We’ll go to the Mountain Pass first, see that the crechè gives us a solution.”

Lae’zel nodded and walked away, probably to polish her sword some more. The others left as well, while Tav kept looking at the map. 

“The shadow cursed lands.” Tav whispered to herself. As she passed her finger on where the name was written on the map, she felt the scar on her collarbone sting, causing her to hiss. 

“Have you ever been there?” Shadowheart asked, appearing next to Tav. 

“Why you ask?”

She pointed with her chin towards the paper.  “Just the way you look at the map. Seems like you’ve got some history there.” 

Tav shook her head. “I’ve never been there, no, but Raphael has a few contracts there.” She turned towards the cleric. “I can’t help but wonder what has happened to them - the debtors.” 

She made a motion to move away, saying “Now, if you’ve got nothing more to ask, I’ll get ready for bed.” 

“Actually, there is something else I’d like to know.” Shadowheart said. “We know Mizora sent Wyll to hunt after devils and demons alike, but what type of jobs did Raphael ever sent you on?”

Tav shrugged. “All sorts of things. Sometimes it was to kill someone who wronged him, or gather information. Other times, accompany him to an event, entertain a guest.” 

Playing music when he was bored, helping him with his compositions were also part of the list, although Tav wouldn’t say that out loud. “If there was something that needed to be done, I’d do it, although, since he acquired another warlock, things got a bit easier on my side.” She looked away, for a moment. “One thing is true, however. Raphael would never ask me to do something he knew I couldn’t do.”

Shadowheart nodded.  “When you put it like that, he doesn’t seem that bad.”

“Well, he’s definitely better than other masters that I have served.” Tav chuckled to herself. “It is getting late. We should go sleep, tomorrow will be a long day.” She said and moved towards her bedroll. 

That night, the dream visitor met her again, giving her warnings for the future, while telling her to embrace her potential. Tav had no inclinations of becoming ilithid, but she still needed his protection, and so, she told him she’d think about it. 

As their journey continued, Tav would keep listening to the dream visitor’s interference, but she tried to ignore it. She already had one devil telling her what to do - she didn’t need another otherworldly being bothering her as well. 

…

“Your move, Mol.” She heard him before she saw him. Of course Raphael would be at Last Light Inn, but playing lanceboard with a child was not the sight Tav expected to see. 

“You trapped me.” Mol said. “I didn’t even want to take this one.” 

“Calishmen rules, dear. The first piece touched is the first piece moved.” He explained. For a moment, Tav was transported to a memory that played much like this one. When he taught  her how to play the game, and how frustrated she had been. 

‘This doesn’t make any sense.’ She groaned. ‘I’m gonna end up losing this knight.’

‘Then make a useful sacrifice.’ He guided her. ‘Guard your Mystra or come for my Cyriq.’

Tav was snapped out of the memory when Mol asked her “Say, do you play Lanceboard by any chance? It’s my first time playing.” 

She raised her brow at the girl, easily detecting the lie. “Put pressure on him. Attack the pieces in front of his king.”  

Mol did as you say, moving the pieces around. 

“My, the Theskan Double Counter - Gambit. Vicious. Exactly what I would have done.” 

The girl soon beat Raphael. “How’s that for Calimshen rules?”

“Brava! Lovely work.” Raphael praised the girl. “I see I was right to make you the offer I did. You will consider it, won’t you?” He asked Mol, who didn’t say anything as she walked away. 

Raphael turned towards the group.“The Thasken move was inspired. I see I have taught you well.” He then looked at Mol speaking with the other tiefling children. “What a lovely specimen she is. A blushing apple, ready to be plucked.”

“I know he’s your boss, but please, let me smack this creep.” Karlach whispered. 

Tav ignored her, crossing her arms and raising a brow. “You’re offering deals to kids now? I thought you loathed chattering children.”

“I can make exceptions, from time to time. But don’t you worry about Mol - it goes without saying she still has the unconditional freedom to choose the only option she has left.” He chuckled. “Besides, I do enjoy being in this neighborhood again. It has such a history of abject tragedy.” He focused his gaze on Tav. “And as you well know, tragedy is my bread and bloody butter.”

Raphael waved his hand, dismissing the subject. “But enough about my lesser pursuits. Why bother with trifles when I’m in the illustrious presence of my very favorite client.” He bowed as he said that, making Tav suck in a breath. “It is good to see you again, O apple of my eye. I’d ask you if you’ve made any progress with your little problem, but the tell-tale twitching of your eye is answer enough.” 

“Raphael.” She greeted him. “Should I consider it a coincidence to find you here?”

He smiled. “My dear, nothing is a coincidence. Mortals trifle themselves with free will, as if their betters have not moulded every potential path ahead.” Tav cleared her throat at that. Raphael chuckled. “No offense meant, of course. I’m sure everyone in Last Light thinks they could have changed things.” 

“They’re not the only ones ripe for temptation. As you well know, Tav, my last contract here fed me for decades.”

“You were here before?” Wyll asked. “Why?”

“Family troubles. Not my family, of course.” He shot Tav a knowing look, and she gave a small nod, imperceptible to the others. “I never surrender knowledge for free, but one good turn deserves another, does it not? To repay you, for all the souls you sent my way, I offer you a glimpse of the truth.” 

The devil then spoke of Ketheric Thorm, how his army had been massacred, and even proposing more knowledge in a future contract. Tav squinted her eyes at that - although Raphael shared most of his plans with her, she knew there was something that he was hiding. 

When he was done talking, she made a move to leave but he continued. “Before you leave, I sense there’s something your friend wants to ask me.” He looked at Astarion. 

“I do. I have a proposal for you.” The elf spoke up. “My old- well, a long time ago, someone carved some runes into my back. I’d rather like to know what they say.” 

As Raphael considered his words, Tav turned towards the rogue. “Scars? What are you talking about?”

“You haven’t told them? And you’ve kept your clothes on this whole time? How unlike you.” Raphael smirked. “Why not let them see? Don’t be shy.” 

“Raphael, don’t-” Tav tried to intervene but it was too late. Her patron waved his hand and soon, Astarion found himself only in his underwear. She looked angrily at Raphael.

“Don’t worry. I’m motivated to help you. Scars often tell such wonderful stories. I think yours might be truly exquisite. I’ll see you soon.” He eyed the two of them and vanished. 

At the same time, Tav removed her clock and threw it around the elf, as he said “Well. Now you know.” 

She sucked in a breath. “Go back to camp and get dressed.” Astarion nodded, doing so as told, alongside the others. 

Meanwhile, Tav turned her attention towards Mol. Although she knew Raphael, she did not enjoy the idea of such a young child making deals with him. 

“Nice strategy back there. If we put our heads together, I bet you and me could make a tidy stack of coin in Baldur’s Gate.” The girl as Tav approached her. “But Raphael’s offered me a partnership already, and it seems like a sweeter deal than throwing my lot in with you.” 

Tav gave her a serious expression, crossing her arms. . “Be careful, Mol. You are too young to be making deals with devils. They can be quite the poison.” 

The girl squinted her eye at the woman. “Poison. Sure.” She scoffed. “You seem to love the taste of it. He seems to know you pretty well.” 

Tav clenched her jaw, and tilted her head. “Touch��.” She loosened her arms. “You’ve got quite the keen eye, I see.” She sighed. “But I’m being serious, Mol.” 

“Look, you saved us. Not knockin’ that.” Mol began. “But after you left, Zevlor lost his nerve - gave up the fight. I won’t. Now there’s no grove, no coin, no one taking us to the city. I’m not letting my crew get eaten by shadows.” She shrugged. “Maybe I’ll make a deal, maybe I won’t. But it’ll be my choice - not the devil’s and not yours.” Mol huffed and walked away, leaving Tav to shake her head. 

… 

After that meeting, Astarion wondered when he would meet the devil again, saying that they would need to keep their ears ready for the sound of cheap poetry and the smell of sulphur. 

“I wonder, how do you handle it, that smell all the time.” The elf complained, as the group made their way towards what could be the entrance to the mausoleum they sought. “It’s absolutely dreadful.” 

“Well, it does help that Raphael is always perfuming himself.”

“Oh, really? And what scent does he use?” 

“Cherries and musk.” Tav replied. “It’s the one he always makes me buy.” She raised a brow at Astarion’s curiosity. “Wanting to buy one for yourself?” 

“No, I-” Before he could finish, Tav raised a hand, hearing a voice. In an instant, she recognized who it belonged to. 

It was, of course, Raphael and his little theatrics. 

“How long have you been practicing those?” Tav asked, once he was done rhyming. 

“Until it was perfect.” He smiled. “As your dear patron, Tav, I thought it only fair to warn you of the dangers ahead.” 

She raised a brow. “I can handle myself, Raphael.”

He scoffed. “Intrepid as ever. It would be pointless of me to try and bar you from entering but I can still…set the scene, as it were. Prepare you for your role.”

Tav frowned. “How are you so sure that there are dangers ahead?” 

“My dear, you should know better by now. You’ll find that I play my part in many a plot.” 

The leader of the group sighed, getting agitated. “Cut the chase, Raphael.” 

“‘Patience was always a virtue that you lacked.” He commented. “But very well. There is a creature that lurks in silence and shadow - a creature, who like me, is very much of the infernal persuasion.” 

“Should it make its way out through these very doors you are about to so brazenly open, you’ll have unleashed a pestilence unto this realm.” He took a step forward. “In truth, it is carnage incarnate. Should you find it, consider no other course of action - kill it.”

Tav eyed him, feeling that something was off. “I believe there’s more that you’re not telling me.” 

‘Let me guess.’ Tav thought. ‘It’s probably one of those fiends that hates Raphael’s guts.’ 

Raphael sighed. “This creature and I go back a long way. I admit it would be in my best interest that as well should it remain in the dark - or misplace its head, perhaps. I should not relish its reacquaintance. Let’s leave it at that.” 

“Very well.” Tav said. 

He turned towards the elf. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, Astarion. When the beast is dead, I’ll consider that enough payment to translate those scars of yours.”

“A fairer deal than I expected.”

The devil smirked. “Ask Tav. I always deal fairly.” With a snap of his fingers, he was gone. 

…

Finding the orthon had been less than ideal, considering that in an instant, the devil recognized their leader. 

“You. I recognized you. You’re Raphael’s little dog, following him around, obeying all the orders he barks at you.” Pointing his hand bow at her, he shouted. “Tell me where that perfumed bastard is, before I end you.”

The others tensed up behind her, but Tav remained calm, if not mildly annoyed. Placing a hand on her hip, she looked at her nails as she addressed him. “I’d be more careful with that tongue of yours, Yurgir.” She looked at the orthon. “Considering I hold the key to setting you free.”

“What are you doing?” Tav heard Astarion whisper shout behind her. “Just kill the damned thing.” She ignored him. 

“What do you mean?” Yurgir asked. 

“Oh, Yurgir, you think I don’t know about your little contract with Raphael? About the song?” She put a finger on her chin. “How was it again? Oh - I remember: Spill all blood sworn to the night / Silence all prayers; Smother all rites -”

Before she could continue, the orthon shouted. “Stop it! Stop singing. I’ve had enough of this bloody song.” He lowered his weapon. “Tell me. I did as instructed, but the song still rattles around in my head - the contract still stands, somehow. If I break it, I’ll become Raphael’s slave forever.” 

“It’s quite simple, actually.” She explained. “Pay attention to the last rhyme. Leave none to hear it, then be set free / This song is your oath, swear it, swear it to me.” Tav looked at Yurgir with a condescending glare. “Don’t you see, Yurgir. You always hear the song.” Then, Tav smirked devilishly. “Kill yourself, be reborn in the Hells. Be free of your contract.” 

The orthon huffed. “If you’re wrong about this, I’ll claw my way out of Avernus and eat you alive - contract be damned.” He grabbed his sword, pointing it towards his chest. “Nicely played, Raphael. Bastard.” Were his final words, as he impaled himself, body turning to ash. 

Tav smiled, proud of herself. 

“Does that count as killing him? It better count.” Astarion said and Tav nodded. 

“That was…impressive.” Shadowheart said. 

“Well, when you live with a devil for a long time, you learn a thing or two.” 

“So the song was the contract? And how did you know about the loophole?” Wyll asked. 

Tav turned towards him. “To answer your first question, indeed it was. Parchment can burn, oral agreements aren’t worth the tongues they’re waggled upon. A song lingers.” She remembered that those were Raphael’s words, when she asked him as to why a song. “And about the loophole, well, it’s simple. I was the one who helped my master come up with the rhymes.” She shrugged. “I guess that’s the luck of having an ex-bard as a warlock.” 

Wyll said nothing, only nodding along as Tav moved and began looting the place. He felt as if everyday, there was a new side to Tav that he’d never seen before. 

…

Raphael was quick to show up back at camp, praising Tav for how cleverly she avoided a direct confrontation with the orthon and telling Astarion of Cazador’s plans. As the vampire left the two of them alone, the devil took the moment to speak with his warlock privately, bringing her close to a river nearby the camp. 

“Tell me, how have you been?”

She eyed him up and down, suspiciously. Raphael was not the type to ask this sort of thing - at least, not out of the goodness of his heart. “Never been better.” She lied. 

“Truly?” He raised a brow. “Because I have this picture on my head - of you tossing and turning in the middle of the night, thinking strange things, dreaming strange dreams.” Raphael gestured. “And there’s this little voice inside your head asking: Is this my will or is it the worm’s? But you have no answer and no way of knowing.” 

“Get to the point, Raphael.” 

He took a step forwards, nose almost brushing with hers. “The point, dear Tav, is that you’ll do good to remember that there’s only one voice you should listen to: Mine.” 

Raphael moved back. “I’ll be seeing you very soon.” He snapped his fingers and he was gone. 

[bara-izu]

BALDUR'S GATE RAMBLES/ Tav Lore / ACT 2 SPOILERS

Spoilers below, you have been warned

I'm so happy with this loadout for Halion, not only does it look pretty but he also has 3 conditions which are related to Lathander, the Morninglord, perfect for my sunshine boy!

Granted the third is a little silly, but with him wearing it around the monastery was a nice little extra detail.

A bit of backstory lore for my boy, his two main deities are Tyr and Lathander. While he's not devoutly religious, he does want to manifest being a metaphorical ray of light/hope for those around him, similarly to the Morninglord.

Before the whole ilithid thing, Halion dreamed of joining the ranks of the Order of the Aster (Paladin's sponsored by Lathander). However more recently he feels being a solo protector, trusting his own judgement and experiences, fits him better then thwarting those deemed 'unfit' by a higher power.

So you can best believe i was vibrating when i saw the next area-

I'm going to miss his everburn sword but, now he can walk around with a giant glowy mace and exact divine justice on evil lmao

[podcastenthusiast]

Short and sweet. And very self-indulgent.

--

"I appreciate your hospitality," Dalyria says for perhaps the hundredth time that evening. It reminds you of Astarion in the early days, equal parts grateful and suspicious of your kindness.

"Of course," you reply. "It's no trouble at all."

And it isn't. You would help them defeat Cazador all over again tomorrow if you had to.

"I hope the others can manage in the Underdark without us. Someone will need to step up and guide them."

"Leon seems clever," you remark.

"He is. Better him than Violet. Or Petras, gods forbid. I suppose I just feel a bit selfish for staying behind. I don't even know if I can ever get back to my old life."

"After centuries of hell, I think you've more than earned the right to choose your own path forward, selfish or not."

"You sound like Astarion," she says.

"We spend a lot of time together."

"I'm glad. He's much happier, I can tell. So fearless. Love suits him." Dalyria smiles, but then it's clouded with more worry. "How is he holding up?"

"He...he's resting. It's a lot to process. He just needs some time."

"It all still feels like a dream to me," Dalyria says. "I think part of me had stopped believing Cazador really was flesh and blood, that he could die like any other. But--"

"--he's dead."

Astarion's voice, raspy and impassive, like he's not certain he quite believes what he's saying could be real. And there he is. He looks fragile and exhausted still, but strangely at peace in a way you've never seen him before.

Dalyria beams and goes to him. The two pale-haired elves embrace one another. You see it then, mirrored, all of that wretched pain, relief, and newfound hope they share. A centuries-old promise fulfilled.

"He's gone, brother. We're free."

"We are. It's over, Dal."

"We're actually going to be okay!"

They both laugh until they're weeping, and they don't let go for a long while.

You don't point out, of course, that the giant Ilithid brain beneath Baldur's Gate means no one is safely out of the woods yet. Now isn't the time for that.

This is what Astarion needed, you think, smiling as you watch them. The presence of those who suffered all the years of torment alongside him. His family. One thing you can't provide, which is okay.

Astarion had said no one else except for you ever cared about him.

How wrong he was.