#need to face orin next

[marshmallow-bg3]

Last bit of dragon riding before the end.

[justabiteofspite]

Turns out doing the Durge/Astarion break up fail right after defeating Gortash with Karlach is a one-two emotionally devastating combo, thanks for asking!

[wyllzel]

wow before i started playing bg3 i was like "yay i get to be a hero" now i run around slaughtering anyone who even mildly inconveniences astarion or shadowheart

[gayestcowboy]

oh my god cazador’s legendary action is NASTY i’m never actually attempting true honor mode because i could not possibly survive this in one try

[gaycatastrophe]

okay but imagine if before going to the murder tribunal astarionmance resisting!durge went with astarion to cazador’s mansion and then failed to stop the ritual. after all of that. after getting their brain scrambled enough to separate the urge from their sense of self. after mutually tripping and falling over backwards in love with the one person who has a chance at understanding what durge is going through. losing control and trying to kill him once already. successfully making it through that night for him to reaffirm this isnt them, they can fight it……………all to lose him forever to his own Father.

durge would go mad with grief and probably would choose to usurp orin just driven by blinding need for revenge on cazador. whoof

[drabblesandimagines]

Rescue

Halsin x reader Inspired by this post by @amorgansgal.

Halsin’s jaw aches.

He’s been clenching his teeth from the second the camp discovered you’d been spirited away by Orin to the Temple of Bhaal, intended as a sacrifice to the god of murder.

He hadn’t been able to relax for a moment – muscles tight, shoulders held up to his ears - despite his pleas to the Oak Father to keep his mind focused on the objective of finding the entrance to the cursed place.

His heart had stopped in his chest when he’d seen Orin hold the curved blade underneath your chin as you lay motionless on the altar, shackles around your wrists and ankles.

It was a true test of his resolve to prevent the beast from taking control. He’d dug his nails into his palms and forced himself to focus on the pain and take a deep breath. Although it would be all too easy to swipe out with his claws, rip out Orin’s throat with his teeth as retribution for ever leaving a mark on your skin, he knows that he’d never make it over in time to stop her from slicing your throat.

He’s thankful to Wyll for speaking up in a measured tone, of reminding Orin that Bhaal would relish a fight than a subdued sacrifice and unclenches his fists as she withdraws her weapon.

As soon as the slayer’s body hits the ground and disintegrates, Halsin hurries to your side, dropping to his knees besides the altar and rests a cautious palm on your chest.

“Thank Silvanus,” he murmurs, feeling you breathe.

A spell or enchantment, then, keeping you under.

His eyes fall next to the chains. He doesn’t look to see where Astarion is, ask whether he has any thieves tools to hand, but simply takes them in his hands and pulls with a grunt, the metal snapping under his brute strength and adrenaline.

He makes quick work of the ones around your ankles, heart aching as he sees the raw skin around your limbs – clearly you’d fought against the restraints furiously. He calls the spell of restoration and smoothes his palm over your face, caressing your cheek as your eyes slowly flutter open, brow furrowed in confusion as he tilts your head towards him.

“Halsin?” Your voice is hoarse, vision blurry but you’d recognize the silhouette of your partner anywhere.

“Hush, my heart.” He attempts to keep his tone soft and measured, but it is proving difficult already – a lump burning in his throat. “You must conserve your strength.”

But you’ve already sat up, catching sight of your other companions hovering behind him, concern apparent across all their faces and a netherstone now in Astarion’s possession.

Orin – she kidnapped you, whisked you away in the shadows and chained you down…

“You defeated Orin?”

“Ye-“

“We can discuss this back at camp – in the morning, after you have rested.” Halsin cuts across your companion, a firm tone perfected in his days as archdruid. His arms swiftly encompass you before any further interruptions - one around your back, another under your thighs - and you are lifted up from the altar before he begins to stride towards the exit.

Halsin has never been a swift walker. In fact, you’d describe his style as lumbering almost, much like the bear form he favoured would traverse – but on this occasion he is walking with an almost fevered haste.

You go to protest that you can walk - you just need some water and a moment to reorientate your bearings - but as you look up there is a clear tremble in Halsin’s jaw, tears lining his lashes…

You may not need this, but he certainly does.

He needs you pressed up against him, soft, warm and alive in his arms as he keeps you close against his chest.

You raise a cautious hand to his cheek and he quickly presses a kiss to your palm, eyes only flickering down to meet yours before an embarrassed smile crosses his lips.

You drop your hand and he squeezes you cautiously, ascending the stairs out of the temple.

There is so much he wishes to say, but now is not the time. Once he has you back in the safety of his tent, after he’s healed every bruise and abrasion on your skin – alongside a kiss for each for good measure – he will permit himself to relax.

You close your eyes and rest your cheek against his chest, letting out a contented sigh.

“I knew you’d come for me.”

Halsin presses a kiss against your crown, silent tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Always, my heart.”

--

Just a short lil' drabble to try and get me back in the flow x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

[al9ayf]

Could I request headcanons for Gale, Wyll, Halsin, and Astarion finding out their f!s/o has suicidal thoughts please?

hi thank you for requesting again ❤️ also sorry for the late post, i have a lot of family events and weddings lolz. also while writing this i couldn’t help but do ascended astarion as well 😭

ᥫ᭡ suicidal thoughts | astarion, gale, halsin, wyll

｡˚ explicit content :: thoughts of suicide ofc, attempted suicide, mentions of abuse

ʚ astarion:

spawn:

he first found out the night you had sex with him at the tiefling party. astarion was different back then. he thought you a fool first for letting him take you under the stars, and now an even bigger one for confiding such dark thoughts to him. the two of you barely knew each other, so he did not care about how you were feeling

and then as the journey went on and he found himself risking his life for you on more than one occasion, he tried to deny his feelings. but you were so magnetic, and all of a sudden the nights felt lonely without you by his side

after proclaiming how much he cares for you and wants this relationship to go further, he invited you to spend the night with him in his tent. now the nights didn’t feel lonely anymore as you slept beside him

finally after reaching baldur’s gate and killing cazador, astarion invited you to visit his grave. the evening was peaceful as he said goodbye to an elf and hello to a new beginning as a vampire. he wanted the night to go on a little further but watched as a sour expression formed on your face as you declined the invitation to have sex with him. you would rather go to bed

the next few nights you were distant. astarion did not understand why until he finally got fed up and asked if you were mad at him. he could see the tears rolling down your cheeks as you confessed to him that you wanted to break up. it wasn’t him, you added, it was you

yet the breakup did not make things easier for you, it instead made it worse. he sees you go off to bed without a dinner and wounded arms. you do not speak to anybody. you are the leader of this group and yet you are silent during the job so astarion often is the one guiding the party around the city and making the decisions

the night after killing orin, he decided to stay awake and watch the camp. he was an elf for he did not need any sleep, but he saw you sneak away from your tent with a bottle in your hand. astarion decided to follow you to the river. he made sure to stay silent and at a safe distance, and once you got to a familiar spot, you sat down on the sand and started crying

you drank the whole bottle as fast as you could and then smashed it into the ground. you stood up and headed for the river with open arms, anticipating the cold waters. astarion stopped you before you could take another step

“what are you doing?!” he yelled, grabbing you. “you do not know how to swim, you idiot!”

you confessed to him that you were doing it on purpose. that you had no will left to live. fuck this tadpole and save faerûn. fuck everything in this world. you were hoping that he would hate you when you broke up with him so your death wouldn’t be that upsetting. the gods have not once given you a blessing in life, and now they have doomed you to the hells

astarion tells you that the two of you have been through everything together. have you not once loved him? have you not thought of him as a blessing? because you are everything to him, and losing you meant losing himself all over again. he wants to help you get through this even though it might be the toughest thing to do. at least he is with you

you expect him to make a joke but he doesn’t. you cry in his arms and hug him tightly, appreciating his kind words

ascended:

after completing the ritual, astarion completely changed. it threw you off more than you wanted it to and hoped that it was just a temporary effect of gaining so much power

but after saving baldur’s gate and all of faerûn from the grand design, and after moving in with astarion into his new palace, he never changed. it instead grew worse

months of his abuse and controlling behavior went by. you were not allowed to be who you are anymore. everything you knew had been stripped away from you, and now the man who you once thought saved you from wanting to end it all made those thoughts reappear again

you sat at your vanity crying as a servant did your hair for the ball happening that night. astarion entered the bedroom and told the servant to leave. he forced you to stand up and look at him, and you recoiled when he touched your chin

“is something the matter, my darling?”

you told him without being able to look him in the eyes. you told him you wanted to die. you hated him and would rather kill yourself than have him touch you. you cry and cry as you spill your broken heart out onto the floor, but astarion only laughs and tells you that you will do no such thing. you are a vampire now, living eternally with him. he will not allow you to end your own life

after all, you are his dear consort

ʚ gale:

gale always found it interesting how the light in your eyes always shifted. you were always thinking about something, whether good things or not. he never pried too much into it because he respected your privacy as much as you respected his. but he has poured his heart out many times to you, yet you always seemed closed off. he felt he knew so much about you, yet nothing at all

you have always thrown yourself into the toughest of battles without any thought. shadowheart always spent the most time healing you because of your rash decisions. it was like you were not scared of the danger, yet somehow you lived through it each time

gale asked you about it and you told him a simple answer: you hated evil. you would sacrifice your life to save faerûn. it was your home. he thought you brave, but again saw that shift of light in your eyes disappear. he asked what was wrong immediately, and you hesitantly admitted to him that life had not been so kind to you until you met him. and although this journey to baldur’s gate has been rough and helps take your mind off things, the past still haunts you. gale asks what haunts you, and you only kiss him goodnight

after arriving at baldur’s gate, gale takes you to a nice clearing in the woods to have a little alone time. you watched his small magic shows and the stars, but as time passed on and your laughter died down, there gale saw a sad girl

“whatever troubles you, we can get through it together. i promise you…”

and then you broke down in tears. you confessed to gale that a curse has been bestowed upon you ever since you were a young child. the date of your death grows near, and in one year you will take your final breath and lay to rest forever. you have known this your whole life and each year has not made it easier. you do not care if you die. you would meet death soon anyway. and every day you imagine what a sweet death tastes like if you were not met with the sharp side of the blade

gale pulled you into a hug and held you close. he did not know what to say. it was a horrible curse—a terrible one. he promises you that he will help you escape this fate. look at how far you have gotten in this journey in such a short amount of time. preventing your death is a small hurdle you both can jump over. he is determined to help you

ʚ halsin:

halsin has been the first druid for as long as you can remember. he was your idol, your guide, and your closest friend. admittedly, you wanted it to be more. you have loved halsin for years. all you wished for was to be by his side until the sun rose in the west and set in the east. but you were too afraid to admit your feelings for him. you thought yourself unfitting

after learning about the news of him getting captured by the goblins, you reassured yourself that he has not been killed. halsin was smart and the grove flourishes because of him. you would know when something bad had happened. you would be able to feel it in the earth. no flowers have died yet, and so you prayed to the oak father to keep your archdruid alive

though kagha never liked you. she thought of you as too naive and young. you did not know the ways of the oak father, in her mind. you were just a burden and halsin only allowed you to stay because he was too merciful. and now that she was acting as a first druid, it was taking everything within you to convince her to let you stay. but she cast you out without a second thought, banned from all groves of silvanus

you left the grove with a heart so heavy you had to drag yourself. you decided to go west to baldur’s gate, hoping to find a place there. but then you stumbled upon the shadowlands, the very place halsin had told you many stories about. you had only a torch with you and prayers, yet that did not last very long. you ran through the dark hoping to find a safe place to hide, and you found an abandoned home with a door and windows still intact

you hid there for the next few days. the shadows grew thicker in some areas, and you had to hide yourself many times from passing cult members of the absolute. your stomach growled and your mouth grew dry. each day was agonizing, and on the third, with one last drop of water, you prayed to the oak father that somebody would kill you. to take you out of your misery. you have been banished from all groves and lost halsin. why bother going on?

you awoke to somebody jolting you awake. your eyes were too heavy to keep open, yet a familiar voice kept yelling your name. you managed to mutter a weak “leave me” before falling back asleep. you wake up again to find yourself getting carried to a light in a pair of strong arms. one last time, you woke up in a comfortable bed with light surrounding you. a cup of water was laid out beside you, and you reached over to drink it. the woman beside you took your glass and left to fill it up some more

you sat up in bed, wondering who saved you and why. you were ready to embrace the oak father. they have wasted their time and resources on you. you have no will to live on anymore

then halsin entered the room with the woman. you cried when you saw him, and he quickly hugged you. he kissed the top of your head and called you his sweet girl, and it eased the sorrow in your heart

he told you he had found you while looking for supplies with his companions and was shocked to find you here in the shadowlands. you told him that after he had left you were in such disarray, and kagha had then exiled you leaving you to fend for yourself. then you found yourself in the shadowlands ready to die. you could not live without him or the grove. he was all you wanted and needed

he kissed you again, this time on the lips to soothe you. you gripped onto him tightly, still crying

“oak father preserve you, child. still, the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. you are mine and nature’s until that changes. i understand why you would think such hurtful thoughts, but i am here now, and we will make things right again. you will never have to face such fear again. you will never be on death’s door again. for now i have come back to you, and will protect you until the sun rises in the west…”

you kiss halsin one more time

ʚ wyll:

you have known wyll ever since you were children. although he was noble-born and you were just helping your father around the grand manor he lived in, you both became great friends

your father and wyll’s father joked to each other that you both would end up married in the near future. it was obvious how much you loved each other. and once you both reached the age of 17, you started dating

but that is when wyll was exiled from baldur’s gate for reasons unknown to you. around the same time wyll left, your father had been murdered and a funeral procession was on the way. ulder took you in as his own and grieved with you. you loved your father dearly even though he was secretly a part of the cult of the dragon. evil, yes, but he was the only family you had

after years passed and you heard no news from wyll, gortash was going to be named the archduke of baldur’s gate. you attended the ceremony with ulder who acted weirdly, but you tried to think nothing of it. you spotted wyll entering the room with devil horns and stopping the ceremony, along with a few other companions. you almost cried if it weren’t for the shock running through your body

after the ceremony, you ran to wyll and embraced him. you loved him dearly so and headed back to his camp to learn of everything that had happened. there, he told you everything. from the day his father left for elturel to this moment. yet your mind was fuzzy at the beginning of his story

wyll had unknowingly killed your father during the battle. and it tore you apart

immediately you excused yourself from the camp and headed back home. for days you threw up and ripped your hair. the love of your life had killed your father and sold his soul to the devil. he felt like a different man and yet he was still the same. you loved your father though, so, so much. and wyll killed him

you never talked to wyll again. you stopped eating and kept yourself in your bedroom. and after baldur’s gate had been saved from the mind flayers and wyll returned home, you refused to see him. you would rather die than speak to him

yet he managed to get you at a perfect time. he locked you in your bedroom with him in front of the door, forcing you to finally face him. you cried and you screamed, telling him how much you wanted to kill yourself to meet your father again. the father he took from you. you would rather die than speak to the devil

wyll retaliated though. he understood how much grief you were going through but he made the right choice

“you must understand me, my love! i loved your father like he was my own. but if you were to have heard the roaring thunder and seen a head of tiamat, you too would have wanted to stop it. i did what was right and you know that. i beg of you to understand my situation. your father was an evil man, and yes he loved you so much, but he was willing to bring back dragons than see his own daughter alive and well in faerûn.”

wyll professed his love to you and told you that he will help you get through this grief and suffering. you had endured it for long enough. you broke down in tears and cried on your bed. his words were both comforting and not. the thought of your father not loving you enough made you want to meet him in whatever realm he was in and beat the shit out of him. but as wyll rubbed your back soothingly, you decided that living for the only family you had left was what was right

criticism is appreciated <3

[alfynnlin]

Got a BG3 A.U. for the RE8 women (also counts as DnD A.U.?)

Had to make do with modded presets but I've tried to pick out the ones that have similar vibes (I need a mod that adds their face models into BG3 lol)

May I present: Lady Alcina Dimitrescu in Baldur's Gate 3

I made her into a drow (she fits right in with the matriarchal culture) thrower barbarian (an elegant one, mind you -- it's for the furniture throwing), and if we use enlarge spell or elixir of colossus on her, she'd look much closer to her canonical height

I also made the Dimi daughters with hirelings, so here they are as well

Bela, gloomstalker assassin

She gives off the vibe of an elegant, efficient archer. Imagine her rolling her eyes while she cleans up after her sisters by finishing an enemy off from a distance

Cassandra, battlemaster fighter

Canonically, she hangs out in the armory and it's also implied that she's the best hunter/fighter among the three

Daniela, dual-wield swordsbard

I mean, she lingers at the library and has the flirtiest lines. All that, mixed with some martial skills, I think college of swords bard fits her quite well

And of course, Lady D's dream guardian, Miranda

The mothers are mothering

Look at these queens, casually chilling and serving (don't mind Orin, she's just having an eepy)

Miss D and the Pall Boys?

How about Miss D and her Slaying Girlsquad?

A shame women aren't real

But the gay obsession certainly is

Next up, Donna and Angie?

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Looks

Astarion x Y/N - drabble - 667 WC

Masterlist

Warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, doubt

--------------------

“I know they only like me for my looks, but maybe they will grow to like everything about me.” you listened to Astarion outside of Karlach’s tent.

“You know that’s not true, Astarion. They love you because you’re you.” Karlach responded. 

Your stomach twisted and your eyes brimmed with tears. You walked away, leaving camp for a bit. You loved him. How could he think you didn’t? Or for something as trivial as his looks. You needed to gather yourself before you talked to him so you wandered the forest a bit, the owlbear catching up to you at some point to keep you company.

---------------------------

You returned to camp a few hours later, everyone was in their tents sleeping or reading. Today had been tough, killing Orin and Gortash in one day would make anyone tired. You walked into Astarion’s tent, candle light still flickering within.

“Star-” you started. He was peacefully meditating on his bedroll. You sighed, sitting down next to him. Your hand ghosted over his face before you pulled the blanket up on him. “You’re so stubborn, you know that? I love your looks, that is true. But I love everything else about you too. I love your sass and little quips. Especially when they’re directed at Gale.” you chuckled to yourself, talking to him while he slept was a pretty regular occurrence since his meditations always seemed to keep him in a deep slumber. “I love the way your face scrunches up when you’re focusing on a book or your embroidery. I love your never ending thirst for knowledge. I love how you try to come off as cold and aloof but deep down you are the biggest softie I’ve ever seen. I love how understanding you are, how gentle you are. I love that you listen, truly listen to anything I have to say. You are so expressive with your love it’s hard to not notice it. You protect me, you keep me safe, you make me happy, you… you love me. More than anyone has, I think. It pains me to know you think I only like you for your looks. I would know you if I were blind and deaf. I know your heart, and I wish you knew mine. For it grows two sizes whenever you are near. I… I don’t know how to express everything I feel for you because I feel it all so deeply it’s purely indescribable. But know this - you are so much more than your looks. You are beautiful in more ways than one. I know Cazador made you use yourself and made you think you were nothing but a pretty husk for his disposal…. You never have to be that again. You get to be whatever you want, and I think you are perfect.” 

You trailed off, you didn’t realize you were crying until you stopped talking. The waver in your voice was all too telling. How were you ever going to convince him you felt all of this?

“Do you mean it?” Astarion whispered.

You jumped and sucked in a gasp, “Fuck! Don’t scare me like that.” you said as you wiped all the tears off your face before turning to face him completely. 

“Did you mean it?” he repeated, sitting up.

“Of course I meant it. I love you and I will spend my life proving it to you if that’s what it takes.” you responded instantly. 

He sighed, “I love you, all of you…. It’s just difficult to accept that you can love me for more than my body.” 

You took his face in your hands softly, running your thumbs over his cheeks. “I will love you in every lifetime, until the last star in the sky burns out. You are the only star I need.” you pulled his face to yours kissing him gently, trying to convey your feelings to him.

“I love you… thank you for loving me too.” he said as he leaned his forehead against yours.

--------------------

Naboo's Note:

A little fluff after that horny af piece. Thanks for everything! XOXOXO!!!!

[truly-sincerely]

IS GORTASH ENTHRALLED?

(tl;dr: yes)

In this essay I will…

Okay, but seriously I did write an essay.

I got here after chasing a very different rabbit down its hole. I'd noticed that Gortash seems to have been throwing out a lot of his stuff (read: mostly employees).

Waldemar Prinski, a loyal banite, sold to a devil for a corn chip

Dark Breaker Antiope, sahuagin wrangler, A Negotiation

The Steel Watch Foundry, Orders to Black Gauntlet Rives

Scribe Yanthus, my beloved, sent on a wild bhaal chase

Vance Farnol, journalist, tho you could argue he had it coming

Goblin Worg handler at Flymm Cargo, plus the Worgs when they run out of Goblin to eat

And, of course, everyone at his Coronation

Was killing all of the patriars and their staff a grim necessity, Enver? Was it?

(Also, he's installed a giant portrait of Bane and a bust of Bane in the penthouse, but he doesn't have a single picture of himself, or any mirrors, for that matter. Food for thought.)

My initial diagnosis was macabre, but obviously I’ve moved away from that line of thinking. He's just way too happy to brag about how much danger he's put himself, us, and the entire world in. It freaked me out the first time I met him (as a Tav). Like I see him glancing at the ground and smiling coyly while saying, "If we're lucky, we'll become slaves," on the back of my eyelids when I go to bed at night.

For the love of all that is holy, could you please turn it down a notch?

I've been obsessed with The Ultimate State since I first read it. It's absolutely absurd nonsense. The item description says it's, "the philosophical ramblings of Enver Gortash." and I feel like it's worth noting that he doesn't write his own propaganda; he has the banites do it for him. But I mean, it really does read like he's twisting himself in knots to connect "unity" and "progress" together, but babe, those jigsaw pieces do not go together like that. Anyway, while thinking about this subject it dawned on me:

They're the same picture.

You know what other line of thinking these two have in common?

They both look so sad when they say this. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I abandoned you.

I know we all love to joke about Durge or Gortash feeding the Brain the "Handsome, Younger Man" line, but what if that was just a smokescreen and it's been the other way around this whole time?

Netherbrain: You think you know why you are here. You think you can atone for giving me my power, child of Bhaal, by destroying me with the Netherstones. You are wrong. The Emperor: It’s messing with your mind. Don’t listen to it. Use the stones. Netherbrain: By eliminating Ketheric and Orin, you have simply unbound me. Exactly as I intended. The Crown is now mine to command - mine alone. The Emperor: Don’t listen to it! Focus on the Crown! Netherbrain: You placed the Crown upon me in the depths of Moonrise Towers, and there I was born. The Crown is not my weakness - it is what made me what I am. Gortash: You are delusional - the Crown is how we controlled you! Netherbrain: I respected Bhaal’s child once, but not you, Gortash. I allowed you to control me as long as it suited my purposes. You have played your part. The next order to be given is mine and it is this - die. Gortash: (crumples like a piece of parchment) Netherbrain: When the parasite entered your ruined mind - you became a pawn in my design. Who do you think told the Chosen about the Astral Prism? Who do you think planted the knowledge of Orpheus’ power, and the fear of what it could do? When the Chosen sent my thralls to retrieve the Prism - who do you think let the ‘Emperor’ slip its leash, knowing it would be the one to bring you to me? The Emperor: We were part of its plan… Netherbrain: I only needed one Netherstone loosened from the Chosen’s grasp to guarantee my freedom. You brought all three back to me. In doing so, you have liberated me. This was your role - and it is complete. Now you will witness the Grand Design.

The face of a man who has 20 INT and 16 WIS and is definitely not the brainwashed pawn of a giant brain that's been manipulating him in his sleep.

You think his puny +7 WIS save is gonna beat the Netherbrain when it's been working on his ass every time he goes to sleep for the last nine months? I say thee nay.

Also, and this is probably oversharing, but my dad, who I used to think of as a really smart guy is now a huge Trump supporter. He's an atheist but he'll parrot conservative christian talking points that I've seen clipped from Nazi talking heads. The words that come out of his mouth and the way he smiles when he says completely insane things is haunting.

What all of this means at the end of the day isn't much in the grand scheme of things, but it's kind of sad, and it definitely says something about his characterization. This man is floundering in a soup of his own making. A tragic puppet. A poor little meow meow.

There's an interesting line of demarcation between the various writings that he dictated to Scribe Yanthus, the things he wrote himself, and the things he says to us in the game.

Elder Brain Domination (from Ketheric, but about Gortash)

Suspended Ceremorphosis

The Grand Design

Studies of the Elder Brains

Accelerated Grand Design

Memoir Notes With Recent Addenda

Journal of Enver Gortash

He's so much more motivated and insightful early on, epitomized in Ketheric's entry, "Gortash fears that, energised by the dark energies of the Crown, the brain we now call the Absolute will eventually metamorphose into something new and more difficult to control." And he was right! But that guy's nowhere to be found by the time we meet him.

This one makes me particularly sad, "No weakness but the unexpected. It seems I shall need unexpected allies," because, again, he's right, and we could've saved him if the game had given us the opportunity to say, "No, there is another way. Let's not walk into this obvious trap." He wrote us a roadmap; left a trail of breadcrumbs; and we weren't given the option to follow them.

But I guess that's what fixfics are for.

THANK YOU FOR COMING TO MY TAVtalk!

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

prompt8: urge ! I Love the way you describe all the Feelings in your stories :DD ( and keeping It gn so i can at least have my mxm Imagine haha xDD)

Hiiiiii so sorry it took so long, wrangling that muse is difficult. I did, however, manage to subdue it with the help of this post, much thanks to OP.

You feel it well up from deep within you. A barely contained fury, a dark sinister urge to rip apart those responsible for the scene before you. Orin smiles from her perch above Astarion, who is bound upon a slab whilst Orin's dagger rests just above his heart.

"Come to save your beloved?" She smiles at you eerily, twirling her dagger. You say nothing, mind clouding with anger as you walk down the steps towards the stage upon which Orin will perform her final dance. She laughs, eager to get the ritual started but your gaze remains cold.

You don't need a Slayer form to kill her.

What happens next is but a blur. All you know is that at the end of it all, Orin lies in a puddle of blood at your feet, gasping her last breaths as she reaches out to you. The Urge within you howls victoriously, eager for the feast and your ears ring, the shouts of your companions muffled. All you can focus on is the dying traitor in front of you. Blood roars in your ears, the beast inside hungrily calling for you to take your place as Bhaal's true chosen but when you deal the final blow, it's to save the man you love from Orin's clutches, not to become what your father wants you to be.

As your dagger tears through skin and flesh, ripping away Orin's final breath, the pained cry that slips past her lips sounds familiar, almost as though it were…

Astarion.

You blink and the scene before you changes. Astarion lies before you, bloodied by your blade, your magic, you, while the monster Orin laughs from her place upon the sacrifical stone slab. Your mind goes blank, arms falling to your sides as you crumble to the floor.

"Star." The word feels thick in your throat. Bile floods your mouth, making you sick and you resist the urge to gag. Blood bubbles from Astarion's lips as he tries to speak but all that comes out is a gurgle. His crimson eyes glare at you, as if blaming you for being unable to differentiate your lover from your sister. He's right to blame you, all this is your fault, all because of your inability to see past Orin's illusions. You can vaguely hear Orin cackling as your other companions fight their way to her, and then everything falls silent, save for the dripping of blood onto the stone floor. She's disappeared, leaving only a mocking thanks for your sacrifice to Bhaal.

"Star." The word comes out as a sob, your greatest fear now realised. Tears stream silently down your cheek but no one's there to comfort you. You've killed the one who was always there for you, gentle whispers of reassurance lost forever because of your bloodstained hands. Overwhelmed with grief and self-hatred, you scream.

And then you wake up.

Sweat clings to you like second skin, drenching your clothes. Your chest heaves with each gaping breath you take, your hands clammy and your face sticky with tears.

Astarion.

You whip around wildly, eyes frantically searching for your lover in what is slowly registering as your shared room. The vampire is peacefully trancing in the bed next to you, a singular crimson eye cracking open at your wild movements.

"Darling? Some of us are trying to sleep, you know."

Relief floods you at the sight and you collapse back onto the bed, nearly bursting into tears yet again. Then laughter takes over, your abdomen hurting from the effort.

Orin is dead. Astarion is alive, as alive as an undead can get.

Astarion rises to get a better look at you when he realises you're acting weird, concern colouring his face when he sees the dried tear streaks on your cheeks. The snarky facade quickly fades, giving way to genuine worry. His cold fingers send tingles running up your spine as they run along your cheek, gently wiping away the stray tears that roll down.

"Orin's dead," you gasp out between the laughter. "Orin's dead."

"She is." Astarion is unnaturally quiet. His eyebrows are furrowed in worry, lips tentatively hovering over your forehead. "Do you want to talk about it?"

You reach up, cupping his cheek, feeling the skin beneath your fingers. Your beloved is right here, in front of you, unharmed. Orin lies somewhere in the bowels of Baldur's Gate, carrion for the rats that lurk there. You exhale sharply, closing your eyes as you try to bring your heart rate under control once more.

"You're here." The words leave your lips in a shaky whisper. "You're here."

"I promised I'd always be, love. And I'm not one to break my promises." Astarion slips an arm around your waist, an invitation that you gladly take. You bury your face into his chest, muffling the sobs that you choke out and feel him curl around you, holding you tightly. You feel the kisses he presses to the top of your head, his fingers threading through your hair as he holds the back of your head. The silver tongue from which honeyed words usually flow remains quiet, the only sound in the room being your sobs.

"I didn't kill you. I didn't sacrifice you to my father." The words are but a whisper, and yet his sharp ears catch each and every single one.

"Bhaal has no hold over you anymore, no more than Cazador has over me. You're no longer his captive, you're free. Free to do whatever you want without that Urge taking over, free to be more than just a creature who slaughters for the sake of it. I'll kill whoever tries to convince you otherwise." His grip on you tightens, fangs peeking out at the mention of killing.

You sniffle, clinging onto him as though he would suddenly disappear and nuzzle into the crook of his shoulder. His underlying undead scent pokes through your clogged nose, a comforting scent, much to your amusement. Taking a deep breath, you dive into your still fractured mind, searching for the bloodthirsty Urge within but find nothing. Instead, a stillness you weren't aware of before resides where the Urge once lay, waiting to be filled with something else.

Astarion presses a kiss to your forehead, crimson gaze still resting on you. In his eyes you find a fondness he reserves only for you, an unwavering loyalty, and most of all, an undying love for the one he calls his significant other. Maybe the void within you can be filled after all, bloodlust replaced with gentleness, murder replaced with love. Your hands will never be clean, that much you know, but perhaps they needn't be stained with more needless bloodshed, not while you remain free of your father.

You tilt your head up, pressing your lips against his and savour the moment. You're free, truly free, and this is proof of that.

[tervaneula]

two druids and a rogue walk into a bar by katterv

The next night, Duenn can't take it anymore. He has to know. First, he'll need to ask Astarion how he feels about sharing when he's right there and for some reason, the thought is bringing him more anxiety than that of facing Orin – and most likely Bhaal himself – in the near future. They've only just rekindled their physical relationship beyond kisses and nightly cuddles and Duenn feels so unworthy. What does it tell about him as a partner when he's already got everything, yet he has the gall to yearn for more? Nothing great, he laments, and the sigh he lets out doesn't go unnoticed. “Darling,” Astarion murmurs right next to his ear, “talk to me. You seem… pent up.”

I'm enjoying my Dark Urge run immensely...... so it resulted in this silly (and pretty horny, be warned. it's E rated for a reason) thing about the situationship between Astarion, my Durge and Halsin (￣▽￣)

[littlelostmabari]

I went off script. I needed to procrastinate.

Ok look. So, and stay with me here, @miradelletarot posted a kiss roulette and then @waterdeep-weavemoss posted an ask and I realized that Mira might want to read snippets instead of getting asks so I asked an RNG to give me a prompt and I got #21 first but I dun wanna choose that’s why I wanted a RNG in the first place!!!!!11!!

So I asked again and here is #5: "A firm kiss". Not beta read, written in an hour, so forgive me if there are typos.

Pairing: Gale x gn!Reader (undescribed other than you're shorter than Gale)

Wordcount: 1k

CW: Blood, wounds, all the gross things you find in Orin's temple. Spoilers for Act 3.

(Dividers by cafekitsune)

The pounding in your head is the first thing you notice as consciousness enters your mind. The pounding of your head, and then rapidly the smell of refuse and blood. The stone slab that served as your place of rest was uncomfortable at best, and the lack of support to your hips and neck and knees offers secondary pain. The next sensation was skin rubbed raw against your wrists and ankles, and those superficial wounds were the first things that were tingling as Shadowheart’s sixth level Heal poured into the cracks and aches and throbbing pain. Your eyes still refused to open, your body denying the trauma of your incarceration.

“They're okay!” you hear Karlach shout from somewhere to your right, as a blast of heat rolls over you from the same direction. You’d fixed her arcane engine, so it couldn’t have been your dearest tiefling friend approaching. “They're okay! Fringe’s got em!” Another blast, and this time, as you roll a parched tongue over cracked lips, you can taste the sweet smell of the Weave being summoned into a raging conflagration. This time you hear the noise of something exploding, and your eyes fling open at the threat. Your vision is occupied by the darkness of a high ceiling, but a wisp of silver draws your attention to the left where Shadowheart has her eyes closed in concentration. One hand is on your exposed stomach, the sensation of which slowly enters your mind; the other hand is raised with palm pressed forward in prayer, wrapped in Selûne’s white glow. 

You realize that your breaths have been shallow, but something in your lung expands under the cleric’s care, and your first deep breath enters your lungs. With it is the smell of death and decay, and the familiar stench of the undercity. The rattling of your breath coincides with the final stages of the spell, and Shadowheart opens her eyes to meet yours. There are tears mussing her eyeliner, the black staining against her pale skin and framed by her paler hair. She collapses on top of you with a sob, her arms pulling your head into her shoulder. Aches and bruises that the Heal could not reach cry out as you snake your arms around her as well, clutching her tightly. 

Stomping feet approach from your right, and Shadowheart releases you gently. A month ago she would have shied from such emotion, but there was tenderness in her gaze that hesitantly left your face and looked up. You follow, and Karlach is there with a grin and a hearty slap on Shadowheart’s shoulder. The wince on Shadowheart’s face evokes a chuckle from deep in your belly which only results in more aches. With Karlach’s help, you finally sit up on the stone slab, and then stand. Your feet slough through the remnants of the battle, and the remnants of Orin’s armor and jewelry fail to catch your notice as he sprints up the stairs, Wyll following quickly behind. 

Gale stops at the precipice, out of your arms reach, staring. His mouth is open, and if you were on firmer footing you would have made a joke about him being speechless. You can see the tears in his robe, the scorch marks from where the battle has taken its toll on his person. The smell behind you suggests your evocation wizard had destroyed the very memory of this place with a pair of upcast Fireballs. You can see his mind working, his eyes darting to your face and then to your ripped leathers, your bare feet and your hair matted with blood and bile. There is an intense quiet as the others watch, waiting for the ice to break. 

“I’m okay,” you finally cough, though your lungs rattle with the effort. “I’ll need some help getting back but —” 

He closes the distance before you can finish your sentence. One hand frames your right cheek, the other tangles itself in your hair at the back of your head, and his lips are on yours. Your hands unwrap from holding yourself and clamber desperately to feel him, whining as fingers find his robes and bury themselves. The kiss is bruising against your cracked lips, and you are filthy from your captivity, but Gale shows no sign of minding. His words from the Underdark echo in your mind, and you realize that this isn’t about seeing you in battle but the fact that he thought you were dead and you’re not and you’re alive and you’re kissing him. The hand from your cheek slides down your shoulder and your arm and finds its place on your hip where he digs fingers into your side. It hurts, but it is a pain you find yourself desiring because it means he’s there in front of you and you are well enough to hold him. 

This was a far cry from his normal gentle touches, quiet murmurings, easy loving moments. You realize that you had heard the clatter of his staff against the stones, a sin he would have barked at you for performing only a ten-day ago. He had not broached your lips with his tongue, and you found yourself desperate for even the rotten air of the cavern, given the way he was pressed so firmly against your body. When you finally could bear the lack of breath no longer, you unwrap your fingers from his robes and press palms against his chest. A gentle push and he releases your lips and pulls back, refusing to move his hands from your nape and your hip. His eyes dart between yours with concern and fear. 

“My love,” he whispers. It comes out as a low whine. You feel your mouth pulling up into a soft smile, and your head tilts gently to the side. Your cheek presses against his bloodied wrist and you close your eyes, taking solace in the simple fact that the two of you stand together. Alone, as it turns out, as Shadowheart and Karlach and Wyll are on their way out of the temple to soothe their own wounds. 

You feel Gale’s arm slide along your cheek until his elbow is crooked around the back of your head and you are gathered in the safety of his chest. His neck stretches up until his chin can rest on the top of your head, and you both take several deep breaths until your hearts are settled. 

Pain and aches will fade, your cracked lips will heal, and the blood will wash away. Eventually. For now, though, you are whole. 

[sserpente]

My little assassin

You share the bed with Gortash after you rejected Bhaal, and the Chosen of Bane makes the mistake of making it known to you that he is rather disappointed in your decision. Perhaps he needs to be reminded of his place...

A/N: I’ve done it. It’s too late now. Gortash wrapped me around his finger. Oh well. Enjoy this little piece. It’s literally based on a dream I had and when I woke up, I was like… 😲 I have to write this!

Words: 710 Warnings: implied smut, mentions of death, blood, murder, decapitation and necrophilia, evil Durge!Tav/Reader (duh)

It was strange, the concept of freedom. Considering all your sins, it was a feeling soaked in both relief and uncertainty to know that the next time your weapon struck, it would be because you willed it so—not because the God of Murder urged you to carry out his bloodthirsty message to the world. But for the first time in too long… you felt at peace, bathing in the silence this new-found freedom brought.

With an audible sigh, you stretched your naked body in the soft satin sheets. Dusk was near, you could see the last sunrays retreating and slowly drowning Gortash’s chambers in comfortable and soothing darkness.

For just a moment, everything felt right. Like you’d never been gone, never been backstabbed by Orin, never been abducted… never ended up with a damn tadpole in your head… never suffered from amnesia.

Your memories were taking their sweet time to come back to you still. But you were getting there. Bits and pieces, crumbs of information your own brain was withholding from you began to form a bigger picture.

If there was one puzzle piece, however, that had already fallen back in place, it was that Enver Gortash and you shared a history that went well beyond an amenable alliance. You were rather unfamiliar with the concept of love and so was he. What you had was a filthy connection made of lust, greed, and lechery. But you liked him—more than you wished to admit. There was no doubt you would viciously slaughter anyone who dared to touch him. Only one person was allowed to kill or fuck him—and that person was you.

“Tell me, what are you thinking about, my little assassin?” His raspy voice was accompanied by the faint rustling of the bed sheets as he turned to face you.

“You. Me. My past. The life that lies ahead of me now that I’m free to do what I wish.”

“Is that so…” he responded with slight dismay, “In all honesty, my dear, it’s a shame you rejected the God of Murder. To be Bhaal’s Chosen… an honour and a responsibility that would have kept you invincible… and more powerful than ever, fit to rule by my side.”

The sudden anger surging within you felt like daggers made of ice boring into your chest. Enver was many things but he was no fighter. He was a cunning politician with a hand for charming people into what he wanted. Before he even had a chance to react, you had already pinned him down on the mattress, straddling him. Your hand closed around his throat, squeezing just hard enough to cut off his air supply but not hard enough to keep him from speaking.

“Do you think I turned good? That I want to become a hero now? That I rejected Bhaal because I could no longer bear the thought of my sins? Oh no,” you spat, “From now on forth, my sins are my own, not Bhaal’s. You’d do well to remember that and respect my decision, Chosen of Bane because as much as I enjoy the idea of your warm corpse drenching the sheets in blood, I’m not much for necrophilia.”

Enver swallowed, and you could feel his Adam’s apple dance beneath your palm. There was a sliver of panic in his dark eyes—it was one thing you liked about him. He’d never underestimate you or what you were capable of. “Of course. You can… let go now, my little assassin.”

You obeyed—for it would indeed be a pity if your renewed companion withered away so quickly. You had no intention whatsoever to kill him just yet, if ever. Still, when you voiced your threat to give your hazardous anger a vent, you knew deep down that you were not lying. “Do not question me again or I will start questioning whether your head should remain attached to your body.”

Gortash laughed, a sound you enjoyed for it usually expressed his admiration for your ruthlessness; and just like that, another snippet of information dripped into your mind. You remembered. You used to enjoy him praising your cruel savagery. You made a good team, you and him. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

[lunastrophe]

Minthara's Imprisonment

"Hey, been on a beat the blorbo binge with Minthara as the Blorbo, I'm curious as to what you headcanon Orin having done to her? (...)"

Sorry for not replying directly to your message, Anon, I hope that you will find this post somehow 😉I was not exactly comfortable with posting the full quote - thank you for understanding.

🕷️ Minthara describes her imprisonment in the Mind Flayer Colony during one of her conversations with the Player's Character:

When Orin stood before me, she touched the dagger to my eye, drawing out a tear of blood. I want this one, she said. Ketheric nodded his permission, and I was taken below. You've seen the horrors of the colony. Orin kept me there for days. She forced me to watch as my men were processed; some for food, others as thralls. And then she placed the tadpole in my eye herself.

🕷️ In another line, she recalls that after being tadpole'd, she stayed in Moonrise only briefly - so after being infected, she was no longer Orin's prisoner:

My indoctrination - my infection - took place at Moonrise, but I did not stay here for long. (...) Ketheric recognised me as a soldier, and took me into his army immediately.

🕷️ When Minthara speaks about Orin later, she is obviously terrified of her:

I have faced Orin before, and she left scars on me that will never heal.

In a different line, though, when the Player's Character remarks that the cult "broke her mind", Minthara replies that "broken minds heal just like broken bones".

It can mean that despite everything, she expects to recover from her experience one day (...or maybe she just says that because she does not want to appear weak).

🕷️ As for my headcanon - I admit that it does not go far beyond what Minthara tells the Player's Character.

For any drow, being imprisoned in the illithid colony would be a pure nightmare. An equivalent of being captured by cruel aliens to whom you are just a cattle - with next to zero chances to escape or to be rescued.

In the Underdark, drow and mind flayers try not to engage in open conflicts when they can be avoided - but in some cases, they are more enemies than allies. And mind flayers are more than happy to torment captured drow, or to use them as hosts, thralls or simply as source of food (brains).

It is quite possible that before Moonrise, Minthara has never been in the illithid colony (not as a prisoner, at least). Still, she probably knew what to expect and it was not making things easier.

She was forced to watch her men being "processed" for days - convinced that in the end, her fate was going to be the same, if not worse. As if it was not enough, there was also Orin, certainly more than able to create a bloody spectacle that would make even a Lolth-sworn drow uneasy.

🕷️ And atop of that, the source of the greatest horror was inside Minthara's own head (and it was not the tadpole). In one of her lines, Minthara confesses:

I do not know what weakness of mine allowed them [Orin, Ketheric] to take me. That haunts me more than anything they did to me.

During her imprisonment, Minthara was convinced that everything that happens is a consequence of her weakness. And because of this weakness, she failed and soon she was going to be processed, consumed and forgotten, like a piece of meat. A horrible thought for a Lolth-sworn drow of her station and accomplishments.

I imagine that Orin was eager to feed such thoughts in her. She needed not even to torture her physically - inside her head, Minthara was already torturing herself more cruelly than anyone else would be able to.

[reaper2187]

Caitlyn x female prisoner reader

Prisoner's help (part 2) pev | next

Y/N and Caitlyn walked through the bustling streets of Piltover, the city’s vibrancy a stark contrast to the oppressive atmosphere of the prison. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows that intertwined with the city's golden glow. As they moved deeper into Piltover’s heart, Y/N couldn't help but steal glances at Caitlyn. The Enforcer’s focused demeanor and unwavering stride spoke volumes about her dedication, but Y/N sensed something more beneath the surface—something personal driving Caitlyn’s actions.

They arrived at the Enforcers’ headquarters, a towering structure that loomed over the surrounding buildings. Inside, the atmosphere was tense, filled with the hum of activity. Enforcers hurried about, their faces etched with concentration and worry. Caitlyn led Y/N to a briefing room, where a large map of Zaun was spread across the table, marked with various pins and annotations.

“This is where we’ll be working,” Caitlyn said, pointing to a cluster of markers. “There’s been a surge of criminal activity in this sector. Smuggling, illegal experimentation, and reports of new, dangerous technology.”

Y/N studied the map, recognizing some of the locations. “I know these areas. They’re controlled by different factions, each with their own agendas. If we go in unprepared, it’ll be a bloodbath.”

Caitlyn nodded. “That’s why I need your expertise. You have contacts in Zaun, people who trust you. We need to navigate this situation carefully, or we risk escalating the conflict.”

Y/N leaned back, crossing her arms. “And what exactly are we looking for?”

“Information,” Caitlyn replied. “We need to find out who’s behind these operations and what their endgame is. Our goal is to dismantle their network from the inside out, without drawing too much attention.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Easier said than done. Zaun isn’t exactly friendly territory for Enforcers.”

Caitlyn’s expression hardened. “That’s why we’re doing this together. Your knowledge of Zaun, combined with our resources, gives us a fighting chance.”

There was a moment of silence as Y/N weighed the risks and rewards. Finally, she nodded. “Alright. But we do this my way. No unnecessary heroics, no drawing attention. We blend in, gather intel, and strike only when we’re sure.”

“Agreed,” Caitlyn said, extending her hand. “We leave at dawn. Rest up and be ready.”

Y/N shook her hand, feeling the weight of their pact. As she turned to leave, Caitlyn’s voice stopped her.

“Y/N, one more thing,” Caitlyn said, her tone softer. “Thank you. I know this isn’t easy, but I appreciate your help.”

Y/N looked back, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Just remember, Kiramman, this is a temporary alliance. Don’t get too comfortable.”

Caitlyn chuckled. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The next morning, Y/N and Caitlyn made their way to Zaun. The transition from Piltover’s gleaming streets to Zaun’s shadowy underbelly was stark. The air grew thicker with smog, and the buildings became more dilapidated. They moved cautiously, avoiding attention as they navigated the labyrinthine streets.

Their first stop was a rundown tavern known for being a hotspot of information. As they entered, the din of conversation hushed momentarily before resuming, patrons casting curious glances their way. Y/N led Caitlyn to a corner table, signaling the bartender for two drinks.

“We need to find a contact,” Y/N said quietly. “Someone who can give us the lay of the land.”

Caitlyn nodded, scanning the room. “Any suggestions?”

Before Y/N could respond, a grizzled man approached their table, his eyes narrowing as he recognized Y/N. “Well, well, look who’s back. Thought you were gone for good.”

“Miss me, Orin?” Y/N replied with a smirk.

Orin grunted, pulling up a chair. “What brings you back to this cesspool?”

Y/N leaned in, her tone serious. “We need information. There’s been an uptick in activity, and we need to know who’s behind it.”

Orin glanced at Caitlyn, suspicion evident in his eyes. “And who’s your friend?”

“A temporary ally,” Y/N said. “We have a common goal. Now, can you help us or not?”

Orin sighed, scratching his beard. “Depends on what you’re offering in return.”

Y/N pulled out a small pouch of coins, sliding it across the table. Orin inspected it, nodding in satisfaction.

“Alright,” he said. “There’s been a new player in town. Calls himself The Chem-Baron. He’s been uniting the smaller gangs, pushing new tech and drugs. Rumor is, he’s got connections higher up, maybe even in Piltover.”

Caitlyn frowned. “Any idea where we can find him?”

Orin shook his head. “He’s a ghost. Moves around, never stays in one place for long. But there’s a warehouse in the Sump where his men operate. Might be a good place to start.”

Y/N nodded. “Thanks, Orin. You’ve been helpful.”

As Orin left, Caitlyn turned to Y/N. “A Chem-Baron with ties to Piltover… This is bigger than I thought.”

Y/N’s expression was grim. “Welcome to Zaun, Kiramman. Things are never as simple as they seem.”

As night fell, Y/N and Caitlyn approached the warehouse in the Sump. They moved silently, using the shadows to their advantage. Peering through a cracked window, they saw several men inside, loading crates onto a truck. The crates were marked with strange symbols, ones Y/N recognized as belonging to a notorious chemist.

“We need to get closer,” Caitlyn whispered.

Y/N nodded, leading the way to a side entrance. They slipped inside, sticking to the shadows as they observed the operation. It was clear this was more than just a smuggling ring—it was a well-coordinated effort, with advanced technology and resources.

Suddenly, a noise behind them made them freeze. Turning slowly, they found themselves face-to-face with a tall, imposing figure. His eyes glinted with malice as he regarded them.

“Well, well,” the man said, his voice dripping with menace. “Looks like we have some uninvited guests.”

Y/N and Caitlyn exchanged a glance, knowing they were in deep trouble. They had stumbled into something far more dangerous than they had anticipated. As the man raised a weapon, they prepared for a fight, knowing this was only the beginning of their ordeal in Zaun.

To be continued…