#original tav

[ultimatedirk]

the girlfriends ever

[medra-gonbites]

A Wild Magic You Cast

One Shot Chapter

NSFW - Smut - Ennemies to Lover

Word Count: 4162

Pairing: Gale/ Fem!Durge (unnamed)

He had studied the intricacies of the weave long and hardily; had learned it from the best, dared he claim. The most distinguished teachers of the Blackstaff Academy, the great Elminster Aumar and of course the goddess of the weave, Mystra herself, had mentored him. Yet there she was, undisciplined and uneducated, pulling tendrils of magic at randoms, and it answered her every time.

Add to that her impossible character; she was quite the contrarian, although Gale suspected that was a side of herself she saved for him specifically. She never saw eye to eye with him and seemed to relish going against him. She made no attempt to be subtle as she rolled her eyes when he gave lengthy explanations about the way of the weave or when he was getting side tracked into a detailed retelling of one of his many riveting anecdotes.

At least, Gale took solace in the fact that the feeling was mutual: as much as she found him abrasive, he was likewise irritated by her inconsistencies and her lack of focus; running around camp, shouting and altogether embracing her inner chaos. Made it quite impossible for him to read in peace most nights.

Tonight was no exception.

Read the rest on AO3

A one shot chapter I was inspired to write when my Durge wild sorcerer Dana (see image below) suffered a bad die roll and poisonned our whole team in the shadow-cursed land.

I hope you enjoy!

image source: my screenshot

[spicybardjj]

Life got really crazy for a sec there and it's been awhile since I posted. But I got an iPad a few months ago which has only intensified the BG3 fervour in my body- and somehow turned into a full blown Bg3 comic called Bard Song, centred around my Tav Juno and the tadpole gang 😵‍💫❤️✨

I'm hoping to start posting chapters soon on my Patreon– all tiers will have the full, long chapters (the main story) but uncensored smut chapters will be exclusive to the Spicy Tier. BUT Bard Song will also some mini chapters/snippets that will be posted here on Tumblr, so everyone can enjoy the gang’s escapades and I can keep working on longer chapters of the main story.

Thank you for following me up until this point- I hope you'll enjoy this next obsessive ride ✨

[autumn-sweet-fae]

Look at my beautiful boy!! He’s perfect! Thank you @crowberri, you’re the best!! 💕✨🥹

This is my Tav for Baldur’s Gate 3, the subject to my hyper fixation for many months:

Nyx, a Bard of Lore, and Warlock to the Fey.

Character Trivia

His stats are where he was at by 12th level.

Nyx has the duel wielding feat so to carry both the Mace of Lathander and the Phalar Aluve long sword at all times.

Nyx’s father was a tiefling ranger who stumbled into the feywild and Nyx’s mother was a faun druid who promised to take the ranger home if he joined her for a feast. Next morning he woke up back on the material plane, left in the woods, very hungover and very naked. Nine months later, little baby Nyx was left on his cabin doorstep.

Nyx spent the majority of his childhood in the feywild, though the exact amount of time that he was there is impossible to tell. Nyx was taken from the material plane as a young child and returned as a young teen, but with memories between that seemed to span decades or more.

Nyx is a trans man, however he didn’t realize this until he was about 25. He had thought that his body dysphoria had been because he had spent so much of his life stuck as a child. He was so relieved to realize he was a man.

His voice is voice 6, and he’s comfortable with it usually. Not to fond of his own laugh though.

Nyx is a father, he has a daughter who lives with his fey patron, who is the girls fairy god mother and teacher. Nyx visits regularly and is more of a big brother to her.

At the time that he was picked up by the mind flayer ship Nyx had been renting a room down by the docks of the lower city. He’d only intend to stay in the city for a few more weeks before moving on again.

Like Astarions vampirism, Nyx was surprised to find that many of the ‘rules’ of the fey no longer applied to him thanks to the tadpole. He could touch iron without feeling pain and metal weapons without loosing his magic. He could lie as much as he liked, and had no trouble stepping across the thresholds of homes protected by horseshoes.

His love life was very messy in act 1, but settled on romancing Astarion, specifically because Nyx knew that Astarion was lying to him. Nyx preferred something casual and didn’t want to deal with any hurt feelings when they all inevitably went their separate ways. This, of course, did not go as planned and Nyx had caught feelings for the dramatic elf by the start of act 2.

Nyx stayed extremely tight lipped about his fey origins until well into act 2. Only truly opening up about himself and his past after Astarions confession.

[feedthepheasants]

BEGGED & BORROWED TIME: NEW UPDATE!

Chapter 10 has been uploaded! Here's a brief excerpt between some of the companions where we (unsuprisingly) get some snarky Astarion. You can read the full fic on Ao3 HERE!

We play a game of back and forth chase for a few minutes, and I grab a bit of rope from my pack that I’d braided into a pull toy for him. He runs off with it at first, baiting me into chasing him, but I’m quick and grab the other end of the thick braid. When I win, I take off, trying to keep the rope out of Scratch’s reach. As my braid loosens, I have to brush rogue strands away from my eyes and cheeks.

I come to a screeching halt when I see Astarion and Gale standing at the edge of our camp, watching me. Astarion looks as though he’s trying to hold back a laugh, and lets it out completely when I see him. “You look absolutely ridiculous, darling,” he says in between bouts of laughter. “Quite entertaining, though, I will say.” 

Gale’s expression isn’t in jest the way our companion’s is; instead, he looks a bit in awe, like a little kid. The warmth in my cheeks from running around burns a bit hotter under his gaze, and I suddenly become hyper aware of the fact that my hair has begun falling out of my braid and into my face; if the heat in my cheeks is any indicator, I must be completely red-faced. I’m also out of breath, and hard as I try to get control of it, I’m still panting like an idiot. 

Scratch runs up behind me and snatches the rope toy out of my hand, though he doesn’t take off with it. He sets it down right in front of my feet and sits, tilting his head at me. I smile down at him, scratching his ears again. “Good boy – now, go get it!” I tell him, grabbing the toy and tossing it for him to chase. 

“You know,” Astarion says, sauntering over towards me and dropping his pack on the ground. “He is a good boy, isn’t he?” When he reaches my side, Astarion looks between me and Gale briefly, before adding, “Going after exactly what he wants.” There’s a taunt in his voice, but it’s not for me. I’m about to tell him to cut it out, but Scratch returns with the toy and trots over to Astarion, and the two make their way further into our camp, leaving Gale and I alone.  

[weavemasters]

TAV Appreciation Post

Name: Eol'wyn Gender: Female Pronouns: She/Her Race: High Elf Sexuality: Pansexual Age: 104 Height: 5'1'' Hair Color: Auburn Eye Color: Brown Scars/Freckles: Light freckles on her face and shoulders. A small scar on her right cheek, and a larger scar on her jawline. Class: Sorcerer Alignment: Lawful Neutral About:

Eol’wyn, is a sorcerer from a long line of sorcerers. She was born with a strong connection to the weave given her fae ancestry. Her relationship with magic is like her relationship with breathing oxygen. It surrounds her at all times and ebbs and flows (and sometimes explodes out of her with no warning when she’s fighting). She finds comfort in the chaos and has grown comfortable wielding the beautiful but unpredictable weave. The first spell she ever learned was Fiat lux - her mother taught it to her as a small child because she was afraid of the dark. That gentle compassion and using the weave to help others is what inspires Eol’wyn to love magic. When she was younger Eol’wyn served as a magic user with a squad of Harpers as a consultant when traversing the Shadow Cursed lands. They were grossly underprepared and their squad fell to the curse. She watched in horror as nearly every single of the Harpers were taken, twisted, and began to attack each other. In order to survive Eol'wyn had to do the unthinkable and kill them all. Her friends. She was found days later clinging to a weakening light spell, huddled in the hollows of a tree. This experience left her scarred both physically and mentally, leaving her with occasional debilitating and violent night terrors and waking flashbacks. If I had to pick a handful words for her relationship with Gale they would be: Compassion, patience, empathy, and support. She tries to help him see the worth in himself, to support him through his journey, and provide a gentle unconditional love even as she deals with her own personal demons. Act 1, 1.5, & 2 Appearance:

Act 3 Appearance:

RP Rules/Requests:

My DM's are open for RP requests. Please be: Over 18 (Over 25 preferred but I'm flexible) Please provide a screenshot of your TAV and a short biography (if writing your TAV). Please provide a writing example Please be prepared to write at least 1-4 paragraphs, shorter posts are acceptable in certain situations. Please write in 3rd Person, Past tense POV, NO EXCEPTIONS (Ex:"He walked down the road")

Looking for: TAV/TAV or Gale Dekarios

[hyperfixationstation128]

Through Blaze of Fire, I'll Find My Way. A Baldur's Gate 3 Fanfiction.

Hello! This is my first fanfiction that I've written in over 11 years and I'm very excited to share it with you all! A quick note before you read, this is the first of many chapters to come about my Tav, Arcane. This first chapter depicts the very beginning of her story, so it'll be some time before you see an in-game character, but I hope you all stick around and join me as we explore! Small CW for non-canon character death.

This fanfiction does have some Irish Gaelic words and phrases, and all pronunciations and translations will be posted at the end of the story. I've tried my best to translate all phrases as accurately as I could!

Big shoutout to @galeorderbride for giving me the courage and motivation to pick up writing again. I had so much fun writing and hearing what you had to say!

The day was cold and overcast. It always seemed to rain in Daggerford, soaking the grey stone beaches and casting a saddening hue over the town, like the ever-breaking tide threatened to swallow you whole, keeping you tied to this land forever. But it wasn’t so, not for Arcane. To her, this town was home; this town that kept her and her younger siblings safe; this town where she, her mother, and grandfather practiced magic ‘til the sun sunk behind the heavy, dark sea.

Just outside the town walls, not far from the mighty moat that encompassed it, sat their quaint little home on the water. Her father Lorcan, a fisherman, was rarely home as he often set sail on his tiny sailboat for his daily catch to sell at the market. Her mother, ever-beautiful Suil, stayed home and watched after the children with the help of Arcane’s beloved grandfather Ruairí. It was Arcane’s birthday, she was turning 9 years old!

‘A very important age for a budding young sorceress’, her grandfather had explained. His words rang in her ears, filling her with excitement for the festivities to come. Mother had warned her, though, not to get too excited or expect too many gifts, but with her grandfather being all too willing to rile up her excitement, Arcane elected to ignore her mother’s words.

“Can I have my gift now, grandda?” Arcane chirped, her seafoam eyes blinking up at him. She held his hand as they walked along the stony beach, the spray from both rain and sea wetting their faces. Grandfather let out a soft chuckle that rumbled like thunder.

“You’re an impatient little one, aren’t ya?” He lifted her hand and bent down to plant a loving kiss over her knuckles, patting it lightly. “Not yet, dove. When yer father returns from his catch, then you will have your gift.”

Arcane huffed and rolled her eyes, cheeks puffing out as she pouted.

They continued their walk, they seemed to always take these walks, just her and grandfather. He would talk to her about magic, show her spells, and give lessons in the form of games. From the moment Arcane’s abilities formed, her grandfather had taken a special interest in her, a rumor setting in amongst the townspeople that he had either blessed or cursed her from the moment she was born. The way he described it, her father was nowhere to be found when her mother went into labor, so he was the one who delivered her. According to the stories about her birth, grandfather lifted the crying babe above his head and proclaimed her “Arcane, Daughter of the Weave”. Her name never really meant much to her, not in the way it mattered to her mum and grandfather, but either way, she loved hearing the story.

It had seemed like hours had passed since they set off of their trek, the sunshower slowly letting up as the sun sank behind the dark sea. On their way back, the sight of white, patched-over sails caught Arcane’s eye and she released her grandfather’s hand to bound down the shore. Her father had returned!

“Papa! Papa!” She cried, arms outstretched as he stepped onto the dock and tied his sailboat to port. Upon reaching him, she threw her arms around his leg, holding him tightly. Her father grunted and dismissed her with a ruffle of her hair before turning to unload his catch. Arcane took a step to help her father but was stopped by her grandfather’s firm hand on her shoulder.

“Good catch today, Lorcan? Or has Umberlee found you unworthy of one?” Grandfather chuckled, and Father grumbled, muttering curses under his breath. It was always this way between them, but Arcane didn’t mind it, she was just happy to have her father there to celebrate. Arcane whined and tugged at her grandfather’s pant leg, practically vibrating with anticipation.  looked down at her and smiled his warm smile, he knelt, groaning with effort as he lifted her in his arms.

“Arcane and I are heading back to the house to celebrate her birthday. If you’ve a mind for your wee one’s heart, you’ll join us.” Father didn’t respond, and as they walked back home, Arcane stared after him over her grandfather’s shoulder.

Back at home, it was practically chaos, with her brother Caelan chasing after her sisters Naoisa and Maira with a wooden sword. Arcane practically leaped from her grandfather’s arms and rushed in to defend her poor sisters. “Caelan Villarelah, you are an impossibly naughty boy!” Arcane parroted the words of her mother, wagging her finger at him with her hand on her hip.

Caelan rolled his eyes at Arcane and dropped the sword on the floor. “Just ‘cause you're older, doesn’t mean you make the rules, Caney!” He stuck out his tongue, before running to their grandfather. “Grandda, tell Caney she’s not the boss!” He begged, pointing his finger accusingly at Arcane.

Grandfather looked at her, shrugging slightly. “Well, you heard the boy, dove. You don’t make the rules.” he chuckled, offering her a knowing wink. Arcane stifled a giggle before bounding into the kitchen, where her mother, heavy with her newest sibling, swayed in front of her large cookbook, her hands dancing in the air, her magic stirring whatever delicious meal she was cooking for supper.

“Mammy! It’s my birthday, Mammy, did ya hear? I’m 9 years old and Grandda says he has a special gift for me!” Mother turned to look at her daughter, her brow cocked in a confused expression.

“Yer birthday? No, no, we celebrated that last year, remember?” The corners of her lips quivered in an attempt to mask her smile.

“Mammy! We talked about this! Birthdays happen every year!” Arcane giggled, her hands reaching up to touch her mother’s stomach. “Don’t you worry, Niamh, when you’re born I’ll remind Mammy of all of your birthdays!” Arcane planted a kiss on her mother’s stomach, pressing her cheek to the swollen bump, and as if to say they agreed, Niamh kicked.

Her mother brushed her fingers through Arcane’s wind-tousled hair, gently detangling the knots that had worked their way in there. “Of course you will, A stór(meaning: “my treasure”), because you’re the best big sister any child could dream of having,” She gave Arcane a gentle nudge, “Now go on! Mammy’s just about finished with your supper.”

And so the night continued, Arcane corralling her brother and sisters while Mother finished cooking. The children had gone through the phases of chasing one another, playing “Silence Greatshout”, to finally settling down at the table and wolfing down the long-awaited stew. Notably, Father was absent from the meal and the celebration, he wasn’t even there when Arcane blew out her candle on her sweet cake. But the feeling of missing him was easily overshadowed by uproarious applause from her family, her grandfather giving her a loving shake. The night continued, Arcane sharing the small sweet cake with her siblings, despite her mother saying she could have it all to herself. In mere seconds, the cake was gone, all evidence of its existence now reduced to crumbs and frosting smeared on the children’s faces.

“Well, now! That was a lovely celebration!” Grandfather groaned as he stood and started up the stairs, “But it is getting late. We should all start heading to bed.”

“Grandda!!” The children yelled in unison.

“You a’got Caney’s birfday present!” Maira stood on her chair and stomped her foot, her chubby face red.

Grandfather turned, dramatically clutching his chest with his hand to his head. “Ahh, my wee darlin’, ya caught me! How could I forget?” He scooped Maira into his arms and waved for the children to follow him into their living room and sit in front of him. “You, sweet Maira, ya keep me an honest man.” Grandfather made a show of waving his hands in the air, his deep voice seeming to echo off of the walls as he cited an incantation.

Silence. The children listened close, pointed ears pricked for the slightest change in sound.

“Hmm, I don’t think it worked. Perhaps if the birthday girl were to help me.” Grandfather gave a knowing look to Arcane, who excitedly hopped up and stood in front of him. “Now, dove, hold yer hands out in front of you. Remember to keep yer mind clear, yer heart open, and speak clearly.”

Arcane nodded, her brow furrowing to a concentrated frown and her eyes closing tightly. Her hands, though a little unpracticed, waved gracefully in the air, a blue glow emanating from her fingertips as she repeated the encantation clearly. Her heart swelled, her nerves stood on edge, and with a soft fizzz and woosh, her arms suddenly felt heavy and.... Was that.... Fur?

Arcane peeked an eye open. There, in her arms, lay a small kitten, his gorgeous white fur and silver stripes bristled as his fiery blue eyes darted back and forth. “Wha.... where am I? Mum?” the kitten mewed, clearly frightened by his sudden appearance within the family home.

“A kitten? And he talks! Oh, Grandda, he’s perfect!” Arcane tucked the kitten close and leaped into her Grandther’s arms, hugging him tightly.

“Not just any kitten, dove. This here creature is a careful cross between an Elven Cat and a Cath Shee.” He gently stroked the kitten’s head which settled under his touch. “There’s a breeder in Evermeet who breeds these kittens specifically for their magical abilities. He will be yer loyal companion.”

Arcane gazed warmly at the kitten, gently stroking his fur and scratching his chin. He seemed to settle somewhat, his whole body vibrating as he began to purr. Enchanted by the adorable ball of fluff, Maira and Naoisa huddled closer to get a better look, tentatively brushing their fingers against his soft fur.

“He’s so cute! What will you call him, Caney?” Naoisa piped up.

Arcane thought for a spell, biting her knuckle as she thought. “Ah, I know! Pangur Bán! After the anomnimous monk who wrote poems about his cat!” Arcane beamed up at her grandfather and mother, who smiled proudly back at her.

“He’s all yours, A stór. You be sure to take good care of him, yes?” Mother raised her eyebrows expectantly, her smile strained as if she didn’t entirely care for the idea of having a magical, teleporting cat in her home.

“I will, Mammy! I will!” Arcane placed a gentle kiss on Pangur’s head before making her way to her bedroom. She and her new friend had a lot to talk about.

Two years later

It had been two years since Arcane’s wonderful 9th birthday; she was 11 now, practically a woman, her mother would say. Mother had given birth to Naimh, her new baby brother during the Spring that followed Arcane’s birthday, Father had begun to leave port less and less over the years, it seemed, and Grandfather was as wonderful and doting as ever. Although, with age, came the dark cloud of true sight. It became rather clear that Father and Grandfather didn’t get along, constantly bickering with one another over things like rent, supporting the children, and caring for Mother, who’d recently fallen ill. With things as they were, it fell to Arcane to care for her siblings, having to forsake her daily lessons with Grandfather.

Despite how busy her days had become, there were moments - however brief - when Arcane would have a little time for herself. Late at night, after the children were all tucked in their beds, Arcane would rummage around in Grandfather’s room and steal away with his tomes, hiding away by the rocky cliff faces near her town. That is where she found herself this night, with Pangur, now grown, curled in her lap. The bright white glow of her dancing lights illuminated the pair as Arcane read and practiced her new incantations.

‘Come on, Arcane, if you can summon a magical cat, you can easily project a magic missile!’ Arcane chastised herself in her mind.

“I heard that,” Pangur mumbled, his head still resting on her lap. Damn that cat for hearing her thoughts! He sat up and stretched, tail quivering as he did so. “Yer never going to get better at your spells if you keep putting yerself down like that!”

Arcane sighed, her shoulders slumping forward. “I know, I’m just not used to these kinds of spells! These would be so much easier if Grandda were here to help me.” Her teeth clenched and her frown crinkled her nose, “But with Papa not bringing in any fish to sell, he’s had to start working again to help pay for Mammy’s medicine.” She lazily petted Pangur, making sure to scratch between his shoulders just how he liked.

Pangur leaned into her touch, a deep purr rumbling in his chest. “Don’t you worry yer wee head. Pretty soon, all of our troubles will be a thing of the past and everything will go back to normal.”

Arcane heaved a hefty sigh, standing to her feet. She was tired of having to wait for things to return to normal! She wanted her Grandfather back! She wanted her Mother back! She wanted to spend all her free time practicing her magic, not looking after her siblings. As much as it pained her to think it, the bitter taste of resentment for her father burned in the back of her mind like bile. Why did he have to be so selfish? Why was he always so selfish? Favoring the drink over his wife and children? Why wasn’t he ever involved in anything they did?

Her eyes trailed down to the book in her hands, her fingers dancing over the ornate binding, tracing the inlaid gold leaf that highlighted the title on the cover. Another heavy sigh fell from her lips. No matter how much she didn’t want this, no matter how much she wished to be elsewhere, this was her life, like it or not. She had to keep going. For her Grandfather, for her siblings.... For her Mother.

The night had become pitch black, darkened by the heavy grey cloud that rumbled overhead; Definitely time to be heading back. Arcane waved for Pangur to follow as she carefully climbed her way down the rocky cliff back toward home. She had spent far too long out there already, and if she wanted to have any energy to watch the children tomorrow, she had to get some rest. The walk back home was quiet, save for the gentle rolls of thunder and the lapping of the waves as they crashed upon the rocks. It was a sound Arcane had forsaken as a younger child. After all, how could one miss something that became a part of her daily routine?

After finally making it home, Arcane slowly made her way inside, careful not to trigger the squeaky hinge that groaned when disturbed. Inside, her father sat in his rickety chair sound asleep, a tattered book about pirates hung loosely from his fingers while he held a bottle of whisky tightly to his chest. Arcane rolled her eyes and flicked her hand, a nearby blanket folding itself over her father at her command. Her dreary legs carried her up the whining steps until he made it to her shared bedroom with the other girls. Naoisa and Maira were long since asleep, arms and legs splayed freely across the shared mattress. Arcane was careful not to wake them as she took off her boots and lifted the mattress to stash away her Grandfather’s tome.

It took some detangling of the girls’ limbs to make enough room for her to lie down, but after she did, it didn’t take long for sleep to find her.

The next morning arrived like a banging drum, startling Arcane from her sweet dreams. The girls were awake and jostling her, begging for breakfast. She barely had time to rub the sleep from her eyes before the girls were pulling her out of bed and onto her feet, their cries for food making Arcane’s head pound.

“Alright, alright, ye diabhal beag!” Arcane shooed her sisters out the door, promising them breakfast after she saw to their mother’s morning treatment. As the girls bounded down the steps, Arcane rounded the corner, grabbing the medicine on the table in the hall. With a gentle knock, Arcane entered the bedroom. It was eerily quiet.

“Mammy? Good morning, Mammy. It’s time for your medicine.” No response. She must’ve been especially drained today. Arcane sat on the edge of the bed, pouring the poultice into a little serving spoon. “Mammy? You gotta wake up. It’s time for your medicine.” Once more, silence. This didn’t seem quite right. Mother was usually quiet, save for the gentle rasp of her breathing.

Arcane placed a hand on her mother’s shoulder, giving her a little shake. “Mammy~ wake up!” She cooed. She looked down at her hand. Mother was cold. Why was Mother cold? And why wasn’t she breathing? Arcane shook her mother harder, dropping the spoon with a clatter.

“Mammy? Mammy, wake up! Mammy, please, you’re scaring me! Mammy!” Her desperate cries fell on deaf ears. Mother wasn’t waking up, no matter how much Arcane shook her. Fear gripped her heart like an icy spear, her throat tightened and her eyes burned. No, it couldn’t happen like this! It wasn’t supposed to happen like this!

“Grandda!! Papa!! Help!” Arcane cried, tears now streaming her face as she continued to shake her Mother. “Help me, please! Mammy, wake up!” Footsteps bounded down the hall and the bedroom door swung open. Grandfather! He could help! He could do anything! He could wake Mother up!

“What is it, dove? What’s wrong?”

Arcane sobbed. “It’s Mammy! She won’t wake up! Grandda, please help!”

Her grandfather gently pushed her aside, taking a seat next to his daughter and stroking her hair. “A leanbh? Ye’ve gotta wake up now. Arcane’s here, you’re scaring her. Suil? Suil, sweetheart?” Grandfather’s words wavered and caught in his throat. A quiet moment passed, Grandfather curled around Mother, his hands stroking her hair as he muttered to himself, perhaps a spell to wake her! Yes, that’s it! Grandfather would cast a spell, Mother would wake and be better than ever! Right?

Arcane waited, breathless, waiting for something - anything - to happen. Without another word, Grandfather stood and walked her out into the hall, motioning for her to head downstairs with her siblings. Arcane looked up at him, confused, her eyes bloodshot from tears. Grandfather’s face was grim, his face stained by his own tears.

“Go, now, dove. Go take care of your brothers and sisters. And send your father upstairs.” His voice was somber, his words barely above a whisper.

Arcane nodded, trudging down the stairs as her eyes stared blankly ahead. In the living room, her father sat in his chair, eyes fixated on his book as she approached.

“Papa? Grandda needs to see you upstairs.” She mumbled, shock setting in. “It’s about Mammy.... I- I think she-” Arcane’s words were cut off as her father barreled past her, footsteps quickly retreating upstairs. She, however, remained frozen, eyes staring dead-eyed in front of her. All sound fell away, all feeling lost, all time stopped. A moment felt like an eternity, the roaring silence in her mind nearly driving the young girl to madness. And then-

“No! No! It can’t be! You bastard, what did you do?! What did you do to my sweet Suil?!” Father’s voice rang throughout the house. The children stopped their ruckus. Only the sound of Father’s wailing and the crashing of his tirade filled the children’s ears.

Niamh and Maira began to screech, startled by their father’s rage. Arcane ran to their side and held them both in her arms. Father stormed down the stairs, bursting through the door into the stormy morning that awaited them. And he cried. Gods, did he cry. He wailed and shouted like a child throwing a tantrum, breaking and throwing anything unlucky enough to get in his hands.

It wasn’t long until Grandfather made his way downstairs, all light cast out of his once cheerful eyes. The children turned to face him, fear, confusion, and worry filled their eyes as they stared. Grandfather sucked in a shaky breath, before saying the words every child wishes to never hear.

“Your mother is dead.”

The day was cold and overcast. It always seemed to rain in Daggerford, soaking the grey stone beaches and casting a saddening hue over the town, like the ever-breaking tide threatened to swallow you whole, keeping you tied to this land forever. And it was just so, ever true for Arcane. This town, her home, once a place filled with laughter and joy, was now empty and cold. The tide crashed against the stony shore, rain soaking through Arcane’s cloak, setting a dark chill in her bones. It was the darkest day to end all dark days.

Her Mother was dead.

Her Mother, Suil, a once beautiful, shining light in the world, was now reduced to a cold, stiff corpse that lay wrapped in cloth and heavy stone. Her mother, Suil, a beautiful elven woman, who taught her words of her and her father’s people, who always made the best meals, who saw the good in every situation, now lay dead in the little rowboat on the shore.

It didn’t take long for word of her passing to spread through the town. Word travelled fast in Daggerford. Those whose lives were touched, even for a moment, by Mother’s bright light showed up for the funeral, offering condolences and leaving letters or small trinkets in what would be Mother’s casket. Their words rang hollow in Arcane’s ears. No amount of “I’m so sorry for your loss” or “She’s in a better place” would ever replace the fact that she’s not here! It made her angry, it filled her mind with blazing rage! They didn’t know Mother! They didn’t know how she liked her tea! They didn’t see how she sang like a ringing bell while she cooked! They didn’t see how much she cared and supported Arcane with her magic. They didn’t see her at the end! No one came to visit! It was Arcane who was with her! It was she who walked in to find her dead! And all they could say was, “I’m sorry”?!

Arcane could’ve sworn she was steaming with all the white-hot rage that burned inside of her! She wanted all of them to go away! She wanted everything to stop!

Grandfather knelt down to plant one last kiss on his daughter’s head.

‘Wait, stop!’

He began to push the little boat onto the water, knees shaking as he did so.

‘Stop! Please!! Don’t!’

With one last push, he clambered into the boat, rowing away. Rowing away from shore, away from home!

‘Stop it! Don’t take my Mammy!’ Arcane ripped herself from her father’s side, racing down the shore.

“Arcane! Get back here!” Father called after her. She would not. She would never stop trying to get her mother back! She was hers! How dare the gods take Mother from her! How dare they!

“Mammy!!” Arcane cried out, pushing through the heavy waves that crashed against her legs as if the sea itself was refusing her entry. “Mammy!! Come back!” The cloud began to darken, nearly blocking out the sun, deep, growling thunder like a hungry beast.

Further, she pushed, the hungry waters beating against her small frame, daring to drag her under. She cried, gods, did she cry. Calling for her mother, only to be met by claps of thunder, only to be silenced by mouthfuls of salty water. She refused to give up! She couldn’t! That was her mother! Her arms slapped against the water, helplessly reaching for her mother as waves forced her down with such strength only nature could possess. It didn’t take much for the sea to subvert its dominance over the young girl, thrusting her head deeper, ever deeper, into the black depths, filling her mouth and lungs with its sanguine drink. For if she wanted to be with her mother, the water would take Arcane down with her.

In the moment, Arcane was okay with this. She was okay with being dragged deeper underwater, down to sunless fathoms below. If this was how she would see her mother again.... She was okay with dying.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans for her. Desperate hands fisted her cloak and from the murky water, she was brought back to the air, breaking to the surface with such a sharp gasp, her lungs threatened to burst. Arcane clawed desperately at the water, hands outstretched, reaching for the little rowboat that had now shrunk in size. Her frantic eyes darted behind her, who would dare take her back to shore?! It was her father! He hauled the drenched girl back to shore, slapping her hands away as she threw them back to hit him. She hated him! She hated what he was doing! She couldn’t go back to land!

With one last hard shove, her father practically threw her onto the rocks, her knees left bloody by the impact. Arcane ran to push past him, but he grabbed her, holding her tightly in his arms. She struggled against her father, slapping his face, kicking his stomach, fighting with everything she had to get back to the water.

“Arcane. Arcane! That’s enough!!” He fell to his knees and practically throttled her, grabbing her shoulders roughly and shaking her. “Enough of this, you hear me?! She’s gone! Your mother is dead! She’s fuckin’ dead!” The sound of his screaming left a ringing in her ears and sent daggers into her heart. She stared back at him, the same seafoam eyes she’d inherited filled with so much rage, dare she say it - hate.

Arcane opened her mouth to argue back, yet all she could muster was a pitiful half-whimper, half-strangled gasp. Her eyes peered over her father’s shoulders, just in time to see her grandfather tipping her mother’s corpse into the sea, sinking quickly from the heavy rocks, dragging her down to her final, watery grave.

It was too much! All of this was far too much for any little girl to bear! All the shock, the rage, the drowning grief balled itself inside her chest. She felt her fingers burn with electric fire, every nerve from the bottom of her feet to the top of her head roared like a monster against its cage. And with a deep, resounding inhale that seemed to suck all air from the sky.... She screamed.

Her cries echoed towards the Heavens. Her heartbreak shook the very ground she stood on. Her body burned with white-hot swirls of pure Weave that emanated from the very core of her soul, enveloping her in the purest, rapturous glow of magic. Her eyes were aflame with a blue light. She heard her father yelp in pain and snatch his hands away from her, recoiling at the sight of his wailing child. She continued to scream ‘til the very earth beneath her feet cracked and split. And then.... Darkness took her.

Translations and pronunciations:

Súil: Pronounced like "shool", taken from the song Siúil a Rúin, meaning "hurry, my love"

Lorcan: Pronounced like "Law-kuhn"

Ruairí: Pronounced like "Rory"

Naoisa: Pronounced like "Nee-Shuh"

Maira: Pronounced like "My-ruh" (literally just Maria with the I moved)

Naimh: Pronounced like "Nayve" or "Neev"

"A stór": Pronounced like "Uh Stohr", meaning "My treasure"

"diabhal beag": Pronounced like "Dee-uh-bool" "Bee-uh-g", meaning "little devil"

"A leanbh": Pronounced like "Uh Lan-uv", meaning "my child"

[foxterra]

When the camp is quiet and everyone is fast asleep or deep in meditation she get's up from her bedroll. There's a mirror that seemingly follows the camp around and able to change everything about yourself. She closes the door quietly to not disturb her companions with the mirrors inner glow as she sits down in front of it.

"Harper." Harper whispers watching lips move in the reflection. Her reflection. She studies herself taking in every detail. Every freckle, every scar, every blemish, every silver scale that decorated her face. While the mirror offered to hide her scales she found the empty face... disturbing.

"Harper." She whispers her name again. Seeing how her lips formed around her name comfortably. Without any doubt that was her name. Silver eyes stare back at her with a tiny ring of blue around her pupil. Harper takes in everything wanting to commit herself to memory. How her dark hair was styled in a long braid that often comes undone in the heat of battle.

So why can't she remember anything?

Everyone else seems to have their memory intact, sans Shadowheart who seemed to have suppressed her memories intentionally. There was only so much that Harper knows about herself.

She knows her name.

She knows she's a sorceress with what looks like to be draconic blood in her.

That's it.

"Who are you?" Harper asks herself staring at herself well into the morning. She's able to creep back into her bedroll before Astarion rises out from his meditation. She pretends to sleep just a bit longer before rising up as Gale settles at the fire to cook breakfast.

[cheesy-cryptid]

When youre on your way to class but the party infront of you is subtly trying to get your attention

Another addition to my BG3 but its a filipino coded college au 😙

🎶Gagawin ko ang lahat pati ang thesis mo

Wag mo lang ipagkait ang hinahanap ko

Sagutin mo lang ako aking sinta'y walang humpay o ligaya 🎶

[feyflorist]

average Astarion interaction

[elysianvrt]

my disaster gay paladin and his yapper autistic wizard boyfriend. i love them so much i cant stop thinking about them, they've consumed my every thought pls send help.

idk how well video posts do on this site so im not even gonna bother trying lol (if u wanna see the video version, its on my tt)

[saddleseatollie]

I've seen a lot of people point out that while Astarion's whole "thing" in act 1 is that he's this sexy sweet talking savant, he only has 10 charisma and actually isn't all that good at it.

He practices cheesy pickup lines within earshot of the person he's going to say them to, and every single time he flirts with tav it's extremely heavy-handed and almost cringeworthy. It's pretty obvious that he's trying to manipulate tav, even if the reason doesn't become clear until his act 2 confession.

But here's the thing: Astarion never actually needed to be all that good at flirting.

He says himself that the vast majority of his "targets" were drunks and brothel-goers. People who never actually saw him as anything other than an object for their pleasure. They were going to go home with him no matter what he said. A few pretty words and his physical beauty would do the rest.

But Tav is the first person to actually view him as a real person, which is why it becomes so glaringly obvious that he's not nearly as charming as he thinks he is. Astarion tells them at the tiefling party that "every part of their body screams temptation" and their response is that he's "sweet" and "silly". They're not buying it for second, because they don't need to be told pretty lies to like him. They like him because of who he really is as a person. They fall in love with him not because he's good in bed or has pretty eyes or a sexy body. They fall in love with him because he's sweet and secretly very kind. Because there is so much pain and sadness and fear in him, and he truly cannot see how amazing he really is. That his goodness never really went away, it just got hidden for a while.

[medra-gonbites]

My third Tav: Mari Zoto (hehe got it ?)

My Fanfiction Scorching Fire is about her.

Alignement: Lawful Neutral verging on Chaotic Good: the teaching of her monastery taught her to remain unbiased and pragmatic but her overwhelming emotions and hot-blooded nature often drive her to a more chaotic execution than she'd planned.

Class: Monk of Kossuth (School of the four elements (preference and mastery of fire))

Love Interest: Gale Dekarios (husband, but she uses her own name most of the times)

Likes: Evenings by the fire (fireplace in a cosy home or bonfire on the beach especially), Throat singing, The smell of sandal wood incense

Hates: Goblins, Red wizards, The sound of blades being sharpened

Backstory:

Mari is originally from Thay and grew up in the rural region of Gauros. She was abandoned at the door to a monastery of Kossuth the elemental god of fire and raised by the monks. Logically she developed a preference for hand to hand combat and fire manipulation.

When she was a teen a raid of knights of Thay descended on the monastery and drafted the monks to enrol them in a local war with the Rashemen settlements in the area. She hid in a barrel to avoid the rapture and left Thay shortly after.

After a year on the road (and at sea) she reached the Sword Coast where she met half-triton lighthouse keeper Strar Zoto on the coast line near Beregost and fell head over heels for him. The pair got married soon after.

Less than a decade later, peace was broken when a raid of Goblins attacked her house and slaughtered Strar. She burnt the house to a crisp and the Goblins with it. Kossuth revealed itself to her that night and appointed her his Chosen.

Five years later Kossuth urged Mari to seek out the chosen of Bane. She was on her way to Baldur's Gate when she was abducted by the Nautiloid.

[saffron-rays]

Nightmare

HC: even though he doesn’t require sleep, if tav is human, Astarion picks up the habit as a means to spend as much time with them as possible… since humans have one of the shortest life spans of all the races in Faerûn.

[mynqzo]

lamb fit sketch i forgot to post here ! the comfiest artificer

[hot-pota-toes]

If I could add one thing to bg3, I would give tav a tent

Everyone else gets one while we just sleep in a bedroll by the fire. I want my own little space at camp to decorate with random shit

Give it some personality we could choose the colour of it and what type of tent it is. The chest at camp that we fill with random junk from our adventures would be right by our tent

Also, if you play as an origin character, your tent gets removed ??? Why are our tent privileges taken away 😭