#young Tav

[tee-dohrnii]

POV: You suddenly bumped into the infamous troublemaker of Blackstaff Academy as he's running off with the Blackstaff he stole

[junocornkiwi]

- My love!.. - ... Love? Who are you?..

pov: you witnessed Gale sacrifice himself in the last act, but because of all the pain it brought, you messed with time to reverse it, but accidentally went back too far and he met the person that loves him deeply, but you've never met.

[kekeandherrpgs]

Unexpected reunion

[kocherga-motyga]

Today is March 31st, my birthday, which means it's time to change my pin post.

Hi, I'm Nadia, but my sona's name is Kera, choose your fighter etc. She/her. I draw funny and silly pictures with OCs, rarely flash in fandoms, most often in Ghost band. Don't take it all too seriously.

https://t.me/bettercallkocherga

https://vk.com/suka_my_who

https://bsky.app/profile/kocherga.bsky.social

[madschiavelique]

just had a thought i needed to share. yes it’s about young!halsin. again.

so, imagine young!halsin, training to be a druid. he’s all cocky, always saying how he always wins any fight because he’s bigger than any of the rest of the students.

but then you come in the picture, and you want to outrank him, to be the one student considered as best.

starts this little rival to lovers situation, with lots of banter, lots of ambition, and lots of tension.

you end up being together, being young lovers that see the world in pink all the time because of how you love each other so deeply.

but you’re getting seduced, not by another student, but by a side : the shadow druids.

they saw your ambition, have observed your determination when it came to winning, and managed to make you believe that you would actually be of use by joining them.

and one night, as the training temple gets attacked, halsin sees you in the flames, leaving as a tear rolls down your cheek and you disappear in the shadows.

years pass, decades, centuries.

he never forgot about you, how could he ? no one forgets their first love.

and one day, he hears about some shadow druids that have been seen nearby. he knows nothing good comes when two druidic circles that are oh so different are sharing territories.

so he gathers a small team, and decides to sneak on their camp at night. his group attacks, and the shadow druids are all surprised yet manage to fight fiercely.

but not fiercely enough.

they pull back, but now without halsin’s group being able to capture one of them for questioning.

and his heart drops when the one shadow druid that is brought up to him is… you.

your hair’s a bit different, the paints of your circle marking your face harshly but, you haven’t changed.

and you, you see halsin. he’s bigger although you thought that wouldn’t be possible for an elf, his face marked by a huge scar, and all the regrets nestled in your heart come back to the surface

you’re brought back to his quarters, tied up, and ready for interrogation.

it’s so weird, for the both of you, to see each other again after so many years. you’ve lived entire lifespans since the last time you saw each other, and yet both of your heart beat the same song when your eyes cross.

I HAVE SO MUCH MORE THOUGHTS ABOUT THIS ARGH DO Y’ALL WANT TO HEAR THIS OR NOT LIKE IDK

update about this : check this lil part 2 about my thoughts on this ✨

[crispywriter]

Halsin's bleeding. Again.

And it's not just a little bit of blood—like from a graze after falling over, or a slip of the fingers whilst handling a knife—no. There's blood oozing down the left side of his face, hair and leaves stuck in the red as it streaks down his skin, dripping down his square jaw and staining the leather of his armour a dark red. The giant elf fills your doorway, grinning down at you despite his bruised, ruffled appearance, clearly rather pleased with whatever mischief he's been up to.

"Oak Father's great bushy beard—" You drop your knife and the aloe leaf you'd half-peeled onto your workstation table and swerve around your furniture to get to the druid, grabbing his bloodied face in your hands and dragging his head down to eye-level, inspecting the dirty, jagged wound. "What have you done to yourself now?"

There's four distinct scratches across the left side of his forehead, three of the nasty streaks ripping through his thick eyebrow. They're deep—not at all evenly spaced enough to have come from any kind of weapon you're familiar with.

"Gods, woman, be careful." Halsin winces as you just about dig your thumb into the smallest, leftmost slice, inspecting the wound as best you can what with so much blood seeping out and obscuring it. His large fingers wrap gingerly around your wrists and he pulls your hands away before he straightens up. "Let me get inside first."

You suck your teeth and step back out of your entryway, throwing a now very red hand toward the inside of your humble little home, flicking blood everywhere and sighing. "By all means, invade my space." You huff down at the crimson smattered on your floor and then look back up as the large elf shoulders his way past you, your eyes narrowing and tone sharpening as you watch him head right for your bed. "Don't you even think about it, Halsin. Sit at the table."

The druid tips his head back, his eyes rolling as he lets out a dramatic groan, but he complies with your command—steering himself away at the last possible moment from your clean blankets and taking a seat at your small dinner table instead. It's quite comical—how big Halsin is sitting on one of the regular sized wooden chairs, looking part giant with his knees tucked up and his shoulders hunched over as he faces you. You kick your front door closed and detour to your workstation, collecting a pitcher of clean water, an unused bowl and rag on your way to the dining table.

Halsin watches you silently. His green eyes are inquisitive as he observes you pour the water into the bowl and dip the rag into it, blinking at you as you stand as close as you can without getting too much into his space, gently picking the leaves and hair from the wounds so you can begin to clean it.

He's been like this since the day you met him all those decades ago, still just a boy. Cheeky, too curious, mischievous, always disappearing into the most treacherous parts of the forest far from the Grove and coming back hours, days, even weeks later covered in gore and filth, some kind of trophy in hand and a pleased smile plastered on his face. There's always been discussion about him, disapproving eyes shooting glares his way, coupled with years of rebuke—the elders say he's cocky, reckless, unaware, that he'll never grow out of it—despite him still being so young, despite his uncomparible strength, despite being the most powerful healer the druids have seen in centuries. But these things only seem to cause him to be all the more rebellious, something you're rather fond of deep down, his friendship and reliance on you never once tiresome or draining. You've had him sitting at your table countless times, much as he is now, while you stitched split skin back together as he complained, or had him delirious with poison-fever in your bed, sputtering nonsense as you spoon-fed him and nursed him back to full health again.

"Why do you never simply cast a healing spell?" Halsin says—as has become his routine.

You tut your tongue and sweep his hair back again, brushing the long russet tresses over his broad shoulders and hopefully well out of your way. "My skill lies in practical healing, Halsin." You try not to crowd him too much, but you're bent at a rather uncomfortable angle like this, dipping the dirtied cloth back into the water as you clean him up, "something you well know as we've had this conversation near a hundred times. You're the most talented healer I know, why not just cast a spell on yourself and save all the trouble? It'd certainly save you all the fuss of having me clean you up." 

The druid huffs and hunches forward, his large body closer now and a modicum easier to reach. "Isefa likes to remind me of how I am not to rely entirely on my magic." Your Grove's First Druid is perhaps the only other creature that sees Halsin in a positive light—sees the great potential in him. "Potions and poultices and what have you are just as important. Which I will never understand." He rolls his eyes and gives a slight shake of his head. "You wouldn't have the time to whip out a vial and drink in the heat of battle—it's not as if the enemy will patiently wait their turn to strike."

"And what if you've been silenced? A potion would do you a great deal of good then." You're stepping into the space between his parted knees before you can really think too hard about it, thumb and forefinger on his chin as you tip his head back toward the sunlight still thankfully streaming in through your kitchen window, set to work on cleaning the actual cuts themselves now. "Or perhaps you're travelling with a non-magic user? If you were to fall in a fight, how could they possibly heal you?"

You brush the cloth over the first of the gnarled splits in his skin, and Halsin's eyes are angry as he looks up at you, clearly frustrated by the topic he's chosen to speak on. "And if I were alone and subdued? Restrained? What good are moss concoctions for my injuries then?"

"Halsin." You immediately pause in cleaning him, placing the cloth back down into the water bowl and your other hand gently on his shoulder. "You talk as if you must choose either magic or medicine—you know it's not my intention to speak greater of one over the other, rather that we learn both so that we may use the best of both."

The handsome, irresponsible druid stares up at you, the stubborn set of his jaw clenching twice before he the fire in his green eyes ceases. You pick up your cloth and find yourself cradling his face in one hand as you work carefully over the second gash. "I apologise." He mumbles, pursing his lips in a silly pout you've seen a million times.

"It's fine." You brush your thumb over his cheekbone, flashing him a soft smile. "Though perhaps you shouldn't choose to speak about things you know will make you angry."

It's quiet a moment, the druid allowing you to work in peace, wincing every now and then when it gets a little too sensitive. You're as careful as you can be—gods know you've been much rougher with him on more than one occasion in the past.

"It was a bear." He says suddenly, softly, chuckling to himself. "I was in wildshape."

"I hope you're not about to tell me you've been in bear-form for the entirety of the three months you've been gone." You hum, totally anticipating him to say how he's been doing just that, but nonetheless still shocked by the expected confession.

"It was necessary. And don't chastise me for it—I heed the warnings. Usually." He doesn't.

"I would very much like to lecture you, but since you're bleeding I'll put it in my back pocket for now." You shake your head, "at least it explains why you're so grumpy today." At mid-wipe you pause, your gaze lifting to the window across from you as the reality of what Halsin has just said dawns on you. "Wait... Isn't it mating season?" You glance down at the tall druid and he looks amused, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"She was quite offended by my rejection." He's grinning now—ear to ear, totally pleased with himself.

Your mouth falls open around a breathy laugh of disbelief and you lower the cloth from the elf's face, completely gobsmacked as you thwack your free hand against his chest. "You did not go wandering about in the forest in the middle of godsdamned mating season!" Halsin catches your wrist before you can bat at him a second time, holding your palm flat against his chest as he laughs, his head tilting back in delight, obviously pleased by your reaction to his reckless behaviour. "Silvanus help us all—you stupid fool, what were you thinking?"

"Not about female bears or the rut, I assure you." There's something about the way that the word 'rut' sounds rolling off of Halsin's tongue that sends a fizzle of heat down your spine. "There's... strange things happening in the village. At Moonrise. A camp of goblins came through, stayed in the outskirts and used spells to hide—Thaniel is worried."

You hear the strain in his voice. "Regardless, what you did was foolish." You've gotten closer to the druid amidst the laughter, and when you lift the cloth back up to his face, Halsin has to tip his head backward completely. "Did Isefa send you?"

He shakes his head just slightly. "They camped far too close to the Grove. I could sense them, I'm sure Isefa could too, but I had to investigate. They clearly weren't here for us, but even that knowledge didn't cool my blood." You feel one of his strong hands on the back of your calf and your body hums with sudden warmth at the proximity. His face is level with your chest, almost resting upon it, and you wet your bottom lip before you find you instinctually raise your hand to slip it around the back of his neck, holding him tenderly as you continue to clean his wound. "I tracked them across the forest, spent three weeks on the borderline of Moonrise Towers. The guards were shockingly ignorant of the presence of a huge beast."

"You could've gotten hurt." You blink slowly, realising what you've said and scowling at the smile slowly spreading across his face. "Oh, shut up. You know what I mean. It's not an easy punishment for tresspass—Ketheric seems a kind man, but you can never be too sure."

"They didn't know." Halsin protests gently and you feel his arm snake further around your legs and it forces you even closer, your body pressed right up against his. "In any case, the bear was surely far more frightening."

"I'm not sure... This feels... significant." You take a shaky breath, trying to ignore the rapid beating of your heart. Since when did this man have this kind of effect on you? It must be the information he's told you. Nobody likes goblins. "Are you planning on telling anyone about this?"

"Isefa, yes. The elders? Absolutely not." Halsin replies indignantly. "You know they wouldn't listen to me."

There's a brief moment of silence, the depths of his injuries much clearer now they're cleaner. You sigh softly and feel the imposing elf thumb rubbing absent half-moons at your leg. "Calypsa was rather put out when you didn't show face at her nameday celebration. I wonder what she'll think when she sees what you've gotten yourself into this time?" 

Halsin groans, the weight of his head dropping back further into your hand, your nails scratching at the back of his skull as you smile. "Gods, don't even start."

"Her mother is quite determined to see the two of you together, it seems." You tease, dipping the cloth once more into the muddied red water. "Says it'd calm you down to take a good, level-headed druid by your side."

"Is that so?" You feel Halsin's large fingers squeeze at your calf, the touch burning even through your trousers. "Most of the mothers here gossip like old crones. Though I suppose matchmaking their children makes them happy, since druid's are famously noncommittal."

"Yes, well, they must keep occupied somehow." You have to focus harder on the task at hand to stop from reacting to the low rumble of his voice, cleaning the last little bit of the wound, the skin raised, raw and pink under your careful touch. "I can't really imagine you ever settling down anyway."

The elf smiles, raising his injured eyebrow as he looks up at you. "Ah? Why not?"

"You'd be a pain, for one." You swat the dirty cloth at him playfully before you drop it into the water bowl, then raising your hand to inspect the gash, blood seeping much slower now. "All the druids here are far to soft for you. You're a tad rebellious—I don't know if anyone's told you that before."

"Hmm..." Halsin's grin grows as you tease him, his chin still tilted back, head sitting heavy against your palm that continues to rest on the back of his neck. "Only a tad?"

"Maybe a little more." You smile back at him, then sigh deeply, your eyes flitting between the unwavering focus of the large druid's own and the fresh scratches carving up his face. "It's nasty. You may as well heal yourself, you know." You say softly. "I have herbal remedies, but they—"

"I want you to do it." Halsin interrupts, his palm is up around the back of your thigh now, trying to draw you closer. He's almost unblinking, his eyes clearer green than you've ever seen them. "You have to teach me your natural remedies, remember? Like you do every time."

"I don't—" You falter, "—it's not going to be enough. It'll scar. Badly." By Silvanus's hand, how much blood did he lose? What's with all this brewing tension?

"I'm not afraid of having scars. As you well know." The elf whispers and tips his head slightly to one side to show the one across his chin, but it forces your gaze to his and your breath catches, eyebrows furrowing as you try to convince yourself there's about a thousand reasons not to cross this line. He's your friend—you're friends. "I want it to scar." His voice is softer than the brush of wind over flower petals, expression sweeter than the wild honey he loves so much. "Then every time I see it, every time someone asks me of it, I'll think of you."

*~*~*

sorry y'all, this one probably isn't gonna go anywhere. i can't get the plot to plot. but I really liked this beginning so here you go!

[dervampireprince]

[dni minors, dni blogs that have no 18+ age listed in their bio] astarion x trans man! reader/tav /// smut, dysphoria comfort, reader's chest is un-described and untouched, reader has a vulva, soft dom top astarion, bottom reader

whenever there's a day when you feel off, wrong, you're hyper aware of your body and how it doesn't feel right to you, he'll notice. perhaps not at first, but the way your posture is different, the way you reject and shy away from his touch, don't flush or scowl at his flirting.

it's late when he decides he has to ask you what's wrong, him not being used to having others to care about, to worry for.

"have i done something wrong?" his voice is quiet and yet it startles you from your thoughts.

"no? no, of course no," guilt festers in you. "i'm sorry."

"there's no need to apologise, darling. as i've been told by someone quite dear to me, there's nothing wrong with not wanting to be touched."

"it's not that. i do, i," you breathe. "i want you to touch me quite badly."

"then i don't understand."

his fingers twitch, wanting to reach for you as your eyes flicker to the mirror across the room.

"when you look at me... what do you see? that is, i mean... you could have anyone you wanted, and i know what you'll say to that. and i believe you. that you want me. i just, sometimes it's hard thinking about the men you've been with, hells just men in general, and then... how they compare to... me. because sometimes, sometimes it's hard to see myself as... as..."

you trail off, aware of your shaking breath, aware of the wetness on your eyelashes, aware that you want to bury yourself against him but find yourself scared.

just as you start to wonder if you've ruined something, his hands hover by your face, not touching, waiting. and so you nod, and his he cups his palms against your cheeks, tilting your head to look at him.

"my sweet boy."

those words and his voice make everything the smallest bit better, you hold back a sob and place your head into the crook of his neck. him calling you a boy both soothing and comforting, but also always slightly arouses you.

"you know i love you? exactly as you are, because of who you are."

"i know."

he raises one of your hands to his lips and kisses it.

"would you let me show you?"

he's not used to being so careful with someone else, not that he hasn't been gentle before but it's never been out of his own desire to cherish the person he's with. but perhaps he can understand, in his own way, feeling disconnected to your own body.

"you're such a handsome man, such a pretty boy. and aren't i ever so lucky. when i was a child i would fantasize about some dashing prince, but i could have never imagined i'd find one like you. you're far lovelier than any dream. you're real. and for some unknown reason managed to see something good in me. you're the most incredible person i've ever met, and i'm going to help you see that."

your shirt stays on if you wish it, as much as he loves every inch of your body, and will continue to regardless of if it stays as it is, or if parts of it change. but he wants you to be comfortable.

he kisses you, trailing down from your lips to your neck, never meaning to get carried away there but always does. you find it hard to mind though as he kisses, teeth nipping but not drinking, leaving faint little marks. he likes leaving marks on you, a reminder that you're here, that you're proud to be with him.

his hands slide down your sides, over your stomach, they pull at the laces of your trousers, sliding them off you legs, leaving your bottom half bare, waiting for his attention.

you flush as he maintains eye contact with you as he slides a hand under your ankle, then down your leg as his mouth moves with it, kissing you calf, next to your knee, up your thigh. and if there's more to grab there, he reveals in it, adoring any curves, your softness. he pauses when he reaches the top of your thigh and chuckles, smirks to himself

"such a sensitive boy, i haven't even touched you anywhere intimate yet and look," you gasped as he glides a couple of fingers between your folds and then holds them up. "already wet for me."

he slides his fingers back against you, teasing around you before thrusting in, curling them upwards as he lowers his head.

"we can'tbe neglecting your cock can we darling? it's straining so hard. and just because it looks different than mine, doesn't make it less of a cock, does it?"

he stays blinking up at you until he realise he wants an answer and you shake your head no.

"good boy, that's right," he purrs and you want to feel condescended, but you just whine, flushing hot, wanting to be good for him, wanting to be his good boy, wanting him to call you that again. "and what shall we do with your pretty cock? shall i suck you off?"

you nod your head, eyes pleading with him and he laughs, not to make fun of you, but because your neediness, your eagerness for him endears him.

"very well then," his lips close around your cock, sucking and suctioning while his fingers continue to stroke inside you, your hands slip into his hair and tug accidentally and he moans around you.

"cheeky boy," he pulls back. "do you wish to come like this or..."

"fuck me," you say, and then. "please? please, astarion, i need you."

astarion always flushes when you tell him you need him. he slides up your body, "i suppose i shouldn't tease, you've been deprived of my touch all week, my poor boy thinking he didn't deserve this. don't worry, i'll fuck you like need."

his cock slips between you, holding you close, kissing your neck, hands stroking your waist as he pushes inside of you,

"that's it, such a good boy. always taking me so well," he loses control of his voice as he fucks you, murmuring praises as his hips snap against you, letting you tug him up to kiss you, pressing one of your hands down into the pillow so he can hold it.

he tells you that you're a good as you both come, he tells you that you're a good boy as you twitch, oversensitive, as he cleans you off, and he tells you that you're a good boy as you drift off in his arms.

[jibberjibbsart]

Sage is sick of seeing Gortash’s poster all over Baldur’s Gate

[elliotsgarbagedump]

I like to think that the weave kissing scene was a joke for Oli and then Gale didn’t shoot him down and then he was like “oh shit wait”

[viridescentelf]

Halsin loving and losing a partner who doesn’t have a long life span kinda breaks my heart.

A human can never live as long as he will, but he will love you even in old age. He will kiss your wrinkles, heal your aching body and help you go on walks, his strong arm being a steady support as you wander together through the forest - a path you two have taken together ever since you‘ve met.

He will be your healer, examining you often (despite you saying you’re fine) and making healing draughts or soups he thinks will make you feel better. They do, but they cannot prevent age. As much as you stay active and take care of yourself, everyone has their time eventually. Halsin knows this.

He will be there in your last moment, when your body can no longer continue. He will never tell you how much it keeps him up at night, not having you anymore. He will profess his love for you, over and over, kissing your face as your breath steadies, and you know he is hurting. But it’s time. You cannot hold on forever, for him. Holding your hand, he watches your soul leave and travel beyond his grasp.

He will fulfill any wish you had, cremation or burial, and he will visit the spot you two would kiss, laugh and love on each other. He will sit there and carve a piece to leave there with you, the new wooden figure joining many little trinkets, flowers and gifts he‘s made for you over the years. He will sit there and cry, in meditations he sometimes feels you there with him.

He will never forget you. He will never stop loving you. And as much as he knows Silvanus took you into his care at your passing, he misses you dearly. He will always return to this spot as much as he can. He will even bring his new partner there and, if he has children, tell them about your adventures together.

You are always with him. Once he‘s loved someone, they will be securely tucked away in his heart.

[tee-dohrnii]

This was meant to be just regular pen and paper practice, but then I ended up digitally coloring it ( ; v ;)

Original sketch and ref under here

[sigcorp]

continuing my streak of drawing other people's bg3 OCs with tyrus from perfect slaughter by @asterbae!

the story covers very dark subject matter so please check the tags before reading but in my opinion it is well worth the read

[ollieneedsamilkshake]

Guess who's baaaack~

I'm alive and no longer ill 💪💪💪

Here to bring you all some BG3 art

So yk that Eye rend on tiktok? (It has the look of love audio I'm pretty sure...)

I want to do that with Astarion and my Durge!

I crashed out multiple times while drawing this and now I'm hungry.

I might animate them blinking or something. Idk.

[typophobiaart]

My Tav in my multiplayer bg3 game with my big bro :3

Her name is Lyllith!

[madschiavelique]

omg okay y’all absolutely LOVED this post right here about young halsin x you turning to the shadow druids and meeting decades later so let me elaborate a bit about it (ps i’m in pain physically as i write this so it’s not proofread at all and very quick but i need to let some thought out)

imagine halsin and you, in his quarters, ready for interrogation. it’s night, some fireflies are coming in and out of his windows, but you’re not watching them. your eyes are planted in halsin’s.

so many questions swirl in his mind like individual drops of rain falling all at once together on calm water.

you were gone, at least that’s what he had thought for so many years. maybe you had perished after the flames, maybe you had changed of continents, maybe you had fought another battle that led you to the sour arms of death.

he never thought he was to see you again, not even in afterlife. but here you are, all tied up in front of him.

more beautiful than ever.

and you, you’re watching him in silence, hooked on his lips in expectation of whatever he might say.

he has the strength to form a sentence, trying his very best to keep it all under the “protecting the grove” argument.

“why are you here ?” he asks.

his voice changed so much. it’s much deeper, like thunder coated in honey. his voice was already the sweetest back in the days, but the new one…

“trying to prevent your grove from getting in trouble.” you answer, leaning your head back against the wood of the wall, not leaving his eyes.

he frowns, the duties of archdruid have changed him. he matured, you think, he made a man out of the snarky boy you once knew.

“from…” he says, searching his words, “troubles like you ?”

troublemaker, that was the nickname he used to give you. you’d always tried by every mean to make him look less perfect than how he used to be back in the days, and you still wondered if he had managed to remain effortlessly errorless.

you smiled, full of nostalgia at the single word, “i was your favourite kind of trouble. the one coming for you, though…”

“quit your games,” he stopped, “what are you truly here for ?”

“i told you, your grove’s about to be in danger.”

“how’s that ?” he scoffed, “you, the great deserter, coming to such a haven in search for something else to destroy ?”

halsin still had some bitterness. you had not just left him, you had been dishonest with him, betrayed your home, your friends, your circle, him.

“i did not mean to destroy the temple.” you said between clenched teeth.

“but you did it anyway.” he spat.

“because it was either see this stupid rubble go into flames or watching you die!” you snapped.

halsin’s eyes went wide, anger and surprise and confusion passing on his face and heart without transition as he looked at you with new eyes.

now, imagine that the reason why the shadow druids took you in in the first place was because of leverage, and this leverage was halsin.

imagine the poisoned words they made you drink, how they certified to you that by coming to their order you could finally top him on something and not be an eternal second of his.

that notion of being second had for a while been less and less present to the front of your mind, this simply because you were no longer in a competition with him, at least not in your mind.

but what if they had made you believe that halsin charming you until you fell for him was his own strategy to get first ? what if they had made you bitter enough about him that you had fallen for their lies ?

what if they had threatened to kill him if you were to not join them ?

should i give more loves 👁️👁️

small tags for the people that wanted to hear more about this !!

@halsinningiswinning @radioactivepidgeon @daughter-lilith @fruitymoonbeams-blog @sparrowbard @oooof-ifellforyou @girlwithadragonheart @altered-delta