#wyll Wednesday

[baublekute]

I also found a wyll wednesday screenshot I took. Wyll's body appreciation. And study. For art. For science. Anybody who needs a reference for his body.

[awhekate]

I heard it was Wyll Wednesday today so I wanted to share some doodles I made of him and my dragonborn monk Cereza!

[toads-treasures]

Hey do you guys remember when Wyll said: “It’s a long shot, but, perhaps you’ve grown fond of me. Gods know I’ve grown fond of you.”

Because I do…. I remember.

Edit: anyway happy Wyll Wednesday

[steelsartcorner]

nobody took my pen away so the hades-crossover-fever continues. i’m ill

others: the dark urge (OC); minthara (bg3), karlach (bg3), shadowheart (bg3), gale (bg3), halsin (bg3), lae'zel (bg3), astarion (bg3), kotallo (horizon)

[arainaizevran]

the ruined and the tarnished

PART 1: oathbroken, Chapter 1

The relentless onslaught wore him out, his muscles raw, his innards still aching for more. He craved reprieve from it, a solace, or something — anything — to sate it, to head it off, to control it before it controlled him. He would find it in a tucked-away druid grove: a man who’d jumped to their rescue, a hero who saved their hide from the goblin raid.

IT'S FINALLY HEREEEEE chapter 1 of 10 of gayblade fic that i've been working on for months now<3

The Dark Urge/Wyll, M/M

Rated M for Canon-Typical Dark Urge Violence

1,237 words (out of ~15k)

Set in Act 1, Spoilers for Dark Urge Events

[Read on AO3] [Read on my website]

[krembruleed]

wavemother wip wednesday :]

[rowanisawriter]

wip wednesday

durge x wyll drama…

.

“In your past life, you must have been a fierce warrior,” Wyll finally says, staring down at his shoes. “You fight like a veteran. It's very impressive.”

“You fight well too,” she says.

He smiles a little at the compliment. Even with the holes in her head, she can appreciate his light and practiced footwork, how he stood with his rapier held up confidently, the way he’s still clean now despite cutting down as many goblins as she had.

“It comes with the territory. Monster hunter,” he adds.

A shiver runs down her spine. She can feel his eyes on her, both the good eye and the bad. She tries to look inconspicuous and brings his handkerchief to her face again for another wipe, covering her mouth for a moment.

“Monster hunter,” she repeats. “Have you ever hunted something that didn’t know it was a monster?”

He slows to a stop. She stops a little after, looking back at him, his youthful face, the deep scars that cut his cheek.

“Can’t say that I have,” he says after a beat. He's giving her question serious thought. The careful attention sends another shiver through her. “A monster is usually aware of what it is.”

She remains still, keeping her face purposefully blank. Sun dappled, cheeks warm from the fight and from his attentiveness, Anara feels the sudden need to hide.

He walks past her. With his back turned, she balls her hands into fists at her side, the folds of his handkerchief pressing into her palm, the blood soaking into her skin.

EDIT: read the rest here

[darcydarlingdabbles]

Wyllstarion - Post Game Drabbles

//I'm counting this as a WIP Wednesday because I know me, and me will not be able to get this out of her head.//

SFW

They're basically made for each other. But spesifically to grow into each other. Wyll is literally the knight in shining armor Astarion says he dreamed about.

Wyll on the other hand needs someone to stand up for him and encourage him to be selfish sometimes. He also has a thing for paranormal romance (see his convo with shadowheart about mermaid erotica) Ironic as he's a monster hunter.

Astarion constantly calling Wyll a sweet fool, with increasing affection.

Astarion fits perfectly into the noble life, and riding the wave of being the heroes of Baulder's Gate, Wyll is going to be the new Archduke. And the vampire is /thrilled/ to be setting up the plans and parties.

Wyll suggest they can do the coronation and the wedding in the same ceremony, knowing that Astarion would love the spectacle.

Astarion says absoutely not. Wyll has one day fully about him and all he's sacrificed for the Gate and he's going to have it, dammit. Besides, this means the vampire gets to plan his own wedding--something he'd never thought he'd do. He boasts to Wyll that it will be another lavish party that will go down in the histories as far grander than the coronation anyway.

Astation surprises Wyll with an elegant but private ceremony with only their friends--their family.

Whoops, did he forget to inform Wyll's father? What a pity.

Astarion being the son-in-law of Ulder Ravengard's nightmares.

NSFW

H/C Wyll is demi-sexual. Astarion is a switch that leans bottom, but Wyll brings out his inner needy brat. Wyll is willing (sorry not sorry) to give or take whatever his vamp needs.

Astarion has a lot of healing to do when it comes to sex and intimacy, and he's very insecure about this. Wyll is more than happy to wait. Until they've formed a greater bond and sex is about that bond and intimacy.

Once they're engaged, and with Cazador dead, Astarion is ready to jump Wyll's bones at any provocation.

Wyll is indulgent but says why not wait until the wedding when they're so close to it. Astarion is foppishly distraught, but respects Wyll's wishes. Mostly.

He'll get his prince charming up to do everything...up to the point of fucking him properly. It's a delightful torment for them both. Wyll gets Astarion to slow down and teach him what he likes, and Astarion gets to be the tease and tempter without hurting anyone.

Astarion would love to be the one to break his Wyll.

[halfmoth-halfman]

A small crumb of a snippet of the spell of trilliums please🥺

here you go!! (it's a little more than a small crumb cause i got carried away but i love wyll so oh well)

It isn’t the second time you meet him — it’s not even the tenth or twentieth — but it’s one of the most memorable. The events of the nautiloid weigh heavy on your mind, plaguing both your waking thoughts and deepest dreams. Every sound, every smell, every slight shift in the breeze brings you back to that ship, to lying helpless and prone in that pod. Your eyelid still aches from the unnatural stretch of the worm fitting itself into your brain. With every blink you feel the phantom glide of the tadpole’s warm, bulbous body wriggling into your skull, always taking a second too long to open your eyes as if waiting to feel its slimy residue sticking your lashes together. It’s hard. Hard to focus. Hard to move. Hard to think. Hard to remember you’re still a living, breathing person. The company helps. There’s a strange sense of comfort in surrounding yourself with people who’ve been through the same ordeal, no matter how cagey they may be. Fighting helps more. It’s easy to distract yourself from the impending doom of your affliction when you’re focused on avoiding blades and cutting down enemies. You’re almost thankful when you come across the Druid’s Grove, only to be immediately set upon by goblins. With your companions and those trapped outside the gate, it should be an easy fight — a brief escape from your unending anxiety. But the relief doesn’t last as a goblin is killed and someone new enters the fight. Everything after is blur. You’re mostly useless, as Lae’zel is quick to remind you, unable to focus on anything but him. Even without your help, the goblins are slain, the Grove momentarily safe, and your merry band of misfits allowed entry. You don’t bother with looting the bodies, rushing through the gates with one goal in mind. It takes everything in your power not to punch the man harassing the poor Tiefling — you think you caught his name was Zevlor — but the argument is solved with only petty threats. Zevlor is nice, grateful enough at your saving their lives to not mind the way your eyes wander into the Grove when he speaks. You catch sight of familiar armor, breath hitching as Gale takes over for you. The moment the conversation ends, you’re brushing past Zevlor and the merchant and the three arguing Tieflings until you come to a small group of children gathered in the makeshift training grounds. Could it really be— He comforts a child in that same, gentle voice and you nearly burst into tears. The rest of your companions catch up just as he turns to you. The parasite squirms the moment your eyes meet, your mind painfully seized and forced into his. You see the wastes of Avernus and a diabolical figure of red skin and a single curled horn before something gives way in your brain. The scene shifts and suddenly you're watching the sun’s golden rays rise a small field hidden on the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate as the scent of trilliums flood your nose. Your minds are forced apart, but that’s all the confirmation you need. You’re in his arms before either of you can speak, Wyll embracing you as if he’s still processing that you are, in fact, real and in front of him. He peppers your face in pecks and kisses as you do the same, laughter and happiness and relief spilling between you. Someone clears their throat behind you, and you remember where you are. “Right,” you cough, only slightly embarrassed. You turn to grin at him, your first true smile since being kidnapped by the nautiloid, and Wyll returns it with an overwhelming affection. “Everyone, this is Wyll. My betrothed.”

[baublekute]

Current hyperfocus: BG3. Almost to Act 3. This a long game. But at least they give me the option to have romantic interactions w/ Wyll whenever in camp in the meantime...

[asharaks]

child of none

chapter six: best laid plans by @ikarons

“The name’s Astarion,” he says haughtily. She blinks at him, unimpressed, and does not respond. “And mind how you speak to me. I’m a magistrate in the lower city.”

The woman cocks her head. 

“Like fuck you are.” 

[m3rricat]

for wip wednesday, from the upcoming chapter of my wyllstarion fic!

When their conversation over Astarion’s stitching had lapsed and Wyll started to ponder what happens next, despair had dropped down on him like a toppling wall. The way out was sealed. They had no idea how the priestess had opened the metal door, or if it was even something they could recreate. Wyll had tried manfully to swallow his rising panic. He hadn’t thought he was claustrophobic, but probably anyone would be at the idea of being trapped here forever.

Well, maybe not Astarion. He was so casually hopeful that it threw Wyll for a loop. Oh darling, a ridiculous temple like this, there’s no way there isn’t a secret other exit, said with a confident grin as he had risen from his crouch beside Wyll.

Wyll had always thought Astarion had an impatient nature. And that was true, largely. He seemed all for straightforward solutions: blast away and ask questions later. But Wyll was quickly learning that Astarion had a methodical side. A careful one. The stiches in Wyll’s leg were machine-neat, despite the fiddly medium.

And Astarion examined every inch of the vast crumbling wall with the same thoughtfulness. Wyll had tried to follow suit, to help out, but he felt lulled almost into a trance watching Astarion’s careful ministrations. Astarion had looked at him sideways. What is it? He had said it without the usual sing-song. Almost gruff. When Wyll had said, fumblingly, that he was impressed with this disciplined persistence, Astarion had gotten even more quiet. His usual theatrics stilled; a prey animal willing the predator to pass on. Well, he had said at last. To do anything under Cazador for yourself, you had to do it little by little. And never, ever get caught.

[orionswriting]

Happy WIP Wednesday!

I don't know how WIP wednesday works <3 But here's a spoiler free snippet from my upcoming (and last!) chapter of my Wyllstarion Omegaverse fic!

⭑

"I don’t know," Astarion admitted as he looked to Wyll again. He let out a breath that was halfway between a sigh and a laugh. "But, Wyll, you’ve had me wrapped around your pretty little fingers this whole time. Wrapped so tightly you could have tied me into knots or bows to your heart's content, and it wouldn’t have mattered what I thought I want. I would’ve taken whatever you offered me, and I’d have been grateful for it."

Wyll’s next words shot out of his mouth like an arrow loosed, abrupt and unbidden.

"And what is that?"

Astarion blinked.

"What?"

Wyll leaned forward ever so slightly, his nails digging crescents into his palms.

"What is it that you want, Astarion?"

⭑

[linka-from-captain-planet]

Florrickology, Part 2: The most beautiful face in Faerûn

General simping under cut, plus:

Why I think her face model was changed so much from EA

How her face contributes to her characterization

Spitballing how old I think she is

I actually didn't even really notice Florrick's sexy dress until I saved her from Wyrm's Rock and saw her moving about in the light of day, so I spent 2 whole acts deeply in love with her simply because of her gorgeous face, husky voice, and dominant personality. I was gobsmacked by a total elven MILF come out of nowhere, and while I did recognize her as a beacon of drip in the swagless wasteland of Act 1, I didn't need to notice her thong to know immediately that this was the most beautiful person in the entire game and I must stan.

This was also before I noticed that most NPCs have the same like 6 faces, so I wasn't even yet aware that Florrick's face was especially beautiful and unique.

In addition to going through three outfit changes, she went through two earlier face models. Her original and second models are below.

Her hair and eyes remained essentially the same (minus the smoky makeup), but big changes were made in her face shape and other features between each version, even down to her ears. The second version is definitely a generic head (and not my favorite); I'm not sure about Original Florrick as I don't know what the base heads looked like then, but it is pretty bland, albeit very beautiful.

So, why change? As I said in Part 1, her exact appearance isn't really important, but it is very intentional because they made the effort to change it a few times.

The decision to give her a unique face sculpt makes perfect sense; she's more than significant enough for the effort, considering she shows up in all 3 acts, has lots of dialogue and emotes while talking, plays a fairly sizeable role in the overall story, and appears in the High Hall cut scene as a final battle ally. I figure that, for the most part, the intention behind giving her this unique face is pretty simple: it's gorgeous, increases the game's overall diversity, and enhances her characterization.

I love the type of beauty she was given in the end. She exudes femininity, yet her personality is very dominant ("masculine") and her face isn't traditionally "feminine". Her most prominent feature, her nose, is angular and long, and looks bumpy in certain lights. Her jaw stands out to me next, nice and sharp and strong, but she lacks the cheekbones to give a really chic look. Her chin is large and has a hint of a cleft in some lights. From the side profile (alas I don't have a screenshot even tho I think of it often), her nose, teeth/lips, and chin jut forward a bit from her cheeks and eyes, giving her a very determined, jaw-set look.

But she also has big, soft puppydog eyes, some of the juiciest and prettiest lips in the entire game, the most beautiful and distinctive skin tone, and the most nibbleable ears in Faerûn. Look at the little tippy tip poking out of her hair on her right!!

ps if anyone tries to tell me X is more beautiful or Y has more nibbleable ears I will simply block you, make your own insane simp post

Anyway, her face suits her perfectly. She looks like someone you'd describe as "steady as Tyr's heartbeat" or "upstanding as the Sword Mountains". She looks proud, confident, and maybe a little pushy. Her nose has that elegant slope, so when she stands straight up with her strong jaw set and her chin proudly raised in the air, she looks down it just so that you can tell this isn't a woman to be trifled with. She looks stern, but never mean or cruel. When she's grateful, she's gracious and charming. Her big brown eyes are imploring in her moments of vulnerability, and she can't hide when she's worried or concerned because her eyebrows move on their own. She might turn away so her hair covers part of her face in those moments, too.

In her absolute lowest moments, she doesn't even try to hide, and lets the player in on exactly how she's feeling, in her expressions and words.

You don't really get all that from her earlier two models, right? They're beautiful, but don't tell as much of a story.

I think to a lot of people, she may come across as one-note, but she has an emotional arc like any other significant NPC with a longitudinal storyline and you see that the most in her expressive face. I do think that's remarkable, since she is a female character who exists in this story to support the greater arcs of two men. There are strengths and weaknesses in Larian's writing when it comes to things like this, but I really do think they did a great job with Florrick, in balancing her autonomy and treating her as an individual, while holding her to the minimum-necessary screen time/resources (in this long, enormous game) to fulfill her role.

Not strictly related, but I'll always appreciate that it is essentially never implied that Florrick does what she does because she's in love with Ulder. It would make a great romance side story and I'd have loved it, but I love more that it's left up to interpretation. However she feels about him in private, the fact is that it doesn't make a difference in her behavior; lover, friend, or just a boss she respects, she will move mountains for him and her city because it's the right thing to do, and she'll always do what she thinks is right. Florrick being allowed to exist in this story as her own person, never commanded by the writers to be Ulder's wife or Wyll's mother, even if her storyline is really about Ulder and Wyll, is really special to me.

So on that note, I do have one theory as to why they gave her these very unique features:

To help prevent players from assuming that Florrick and the Ravengards are related.

It's important to Wyll's story that his father is his only living family; letting players assume Florrick is (secretly?) his mother or aunt because she's coded as a middle-aged black woman and closely-associated with him and his father interferes with that story, and introduces confusing questions that don't need to be asked like "is Wyll supposed to be a half-elf?" or "why doesn't she seem to give much of a fuck about her son/nephew?"

On this note, I really like that because not only does it shoot down the conventional demand that any woman in the vicinity of a child be their mother, it also highlights that Ulder was Wyll's entire world, making all of their stories more poignant.

Now the final question her face leads us to is, how old is Florrick? This is tough to answer due to Elf Aging, which means you have to triangulate her actual age by starting from how old she looks and how old she seems compared to others.

For my impressions, I think Florrick's voice is what MILFifies her moreso than her face. Her VA, Karen Bryson, was born in 1975, which tracks with the way she sounds, but her face comes off as a bit younger: she's essentially unwrinkled (minus her forehead when she emotes), bright and fresh-skinned with no other signs of aging, so I would place her at a maximum of mid-30s by appearance.

My impression of elf aging as a non-lore-expert is that, at least in BG3, they grow at the same rate as humans until reaching physical maturity around the early to mid twenties, then age visibly but at a very slow rate thereafter.

Fortunately, there are a few full elf characters whose ages we know. Disregarding Astarion who seems to have been fucked up due to stress/vampirism, we have Minthara (~250) and Halsin (~350) for comparison.

This is convenient, since Florrick looks tennish years younger than Minthara, and Minthara looks tennish years younger than Halsin. So, perhaps full elves, once having reached full physical maturity by approx 25 years old, age about ten years for every hundred give or take stress/genetics/etc. So if Florrick looks about 30-35, that'd work out to the neighborhood of 120-130 years old.

This tracks to me, as she definitely comes off as a fully-fledged elven adult, but still young enough to be a bit cavalier and have things to learn about herself--much like a human in her early-to-mid 30s.

Also, I notice she doesn't have anything to say about the previous Bhaalspawn crises (124-125 years ago), because it seems like the type of thing she'd comment on if she remembered it firsthand (either from growing up in Baldur's Gate, or hearing about as the news travelled.) So her being either not born yet or too busy learning to tie her shoes to engage with current events makes sense.

This concludes Florrickology part 2.

[arainaizevran]

aheem. caging your lover against a wall with your arms to kiss them for bladesmitten my good friends bladesmitten ?

kissy prompts<3

“You resisted once, already,” says Wyll, as if it were as easy as breathing. He stands before him, indomitable as ever, even now, still denying him of his wish.

“And when the Urge comes again?” Ajax says, his voice hoarse.

“You will resist, just as you had last night,” Wyll says, stepping forward, and Ajax retreats in commensurate distance, his back pressing against the rocky surface of the wall. He stands tall: still as an ambush predator, still as the prey playing dead. Muscles unmoving, fearful of the single twitch that would let control slip from his grasp.

“Saying it won’t make it true.”

“Perhaps not.” Another step forward. “Yet you refused to kill Isobel. You resisted the urge to kill me—”

“I resist it all the time.”

Resist the urge to reach out, to caress, to—

But Wyll surrenders to the urge first, caging Ajax in with a hand on his face, and it takes all of Ajax’s strength to lie still. “This doesn’t have to end in blood.”

It will. For as long as he lives. As ineluctable as the blood festering in his veins.

Wyll’s hand skims his cheek, fingers running along the scar. He fights the urge to bury his face into his palm, but when his thumb presses against his lip, the control slips, as easy as breathing. All at once, Ajax’s muscles bear the fatigue of the decades-long struggle with this rotting urge.

And yet, he says, a last resort, a rasping sound wrestling against his throat, “You’re making a mistake, Wyll.”

“So be it.”

Then, the surrender: soft, full lips on his, and Wyll restrains him once again, his bare arms burning hot like the ropes that had tied Ajax down. The hunger rises, frenetic in the sinew of his flesh, and when Wyll groans into his mouth, Ajax finds he wants more, locking him in an embrace and turning him against the wall. He follows that hunger like a starving dog, teeth sinking into the soft flesh of Wyll’s neck, and Wyll whines from the stinging pleasure, hands grasping at his hips, pulling him closer. His hand snakes under Wyll’s ill-fitting top, so impractical and yet now it serves him well, his thumb tracing down the long scar across his abdomen, straying precariously close to the tight curls trailing beneath his breeches—then, a gasp against the skin of his throat: “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” says Wyll, and oh, the certainty in his voice tastes nothing but bittersweet.

“You can’t know that.”

Fingers rake through Ajax’s hair, and with a gentle pull, Wyll tilts his head to gaze up at him. “I can take it.”

[bg3-npc]

Wyllisms Wednesday

Enjoy these words from your local folk hero:

"Works for me! First we get to the killing, then we get to the planning."

"Beating thee would soil my hands!"

"Sorry, there's only so much of me to go around."

"Like a summer's day, thou art sweaty!"

"A broken mirror, a sign of bad luck they say. Just who 'they' are, I've never figured out."

The Blade of the Frontiers everybody. I'm doing these every Wednesday til I've gone through all my favorites. Here's the other two I've done so far!