crowfeatherquill

[crowfeatherquill]

It's true! I do hate him! Icky icky ew!

Dehlia's Saturday Matinee!

I'll have you all know, @crowfeatherquill commented variations of "ew" and "hate him" on most of this chapter. Enjoy!

When he stepped out of the elevator she was walking into the lobby. She was perfect. She was always perfect in every way. He had told her to dress for outdoors and she had done so, a tight sweater and a long skirt and high socks. He imagined they were thigh high socks, she did love her tempting little outfits. It was the first thing he noticed on their first unofficial date. That she dressed for him. Even in class, she dressed for him, as soon as she decided she wanted the chance. Her hair was braided down her back and he couldn’t stop thinking of grabbing her by it and dragging her to her knees. 

#friends' writing

[crowfeatherquill]

Taproot Friday Sunday!

Whoops I was late. Also I don't have a cover photo. Shit's been weird. Anyway, enjoy!

--

Waking from unconsciousness to the unfiltered brightness of the sun on his unprotected skin had, initially, been cause for Astarion to panic. Insensate with a kind of fear he hadn’t felt in months, at least, he’d scrambled for the closest shade he could find. On the one hand, he’d desperately hoped it would be enough to spare him an agonizing death as he disintegrated into ash. On the other, he’d found himself bitterly acknowledging that burning away to nothing would certainly prevent him having to go back to his Master. It had taken him several minutes of cowering for his thoughts to slow down enough that he could catch up to them. Only now, curled awkwardly into the thin mercy of some brush that’s crowded up against a nearby cliff and still trembling with the aftershocks of his own pathetic terror does he realize he’d never actually begun to burn. It takes him several more minutes to work up the nerve to test whether that’s only because he managed to get to safety more quickly than he’d thought. When he does finally extend a hand, cautious and braced to snatch it back at the barest hint of pain, to brush the tips of his fingers across the barrier of shade and into the light, he finds…nothing. He stretches further, ever-so-slowly, until the whole of his hand is out under the sun. All that happens is that his palm fills with gentle warmth for the first time in centuries.

#bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 oc #bg3 tav #baldur's gate 3 oc #drow tav #astarion and tav

[crowfeatherquill]

Spider and Songbird Behind The Scenes: Currency! (Courtesy of Jackelope)

You may have noticed that in the most recent chapter of Spider and Songbird, money is exchanged for goods and services. Furthermore, you may have noticed that that money is Called Something Specific. That would be because Kel (@colormywords) has an economics degree and a passion for making sure all the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it details get just as much polish as the rest of the fic.

The essay you’re about to read outlines the process by which they figured out not only what the money should be called, but roughly how much money is being exchanged. Personally? I could never. But they can and did and now it’s here in front of you. Enjoy! Or else :)

‘Tis I, the nerd! In trying to decide what to call the currency in our modern setting, I thought long and hard about how much I wanted to be like this meme and call our currency coin or gold like it really is in Baldur’s Gate and how much I wanted it to be more unique in name.  I knew that gold was called Dragons in Waterdeep because I ran a Waterdeep based campaign once and know far too much about the City of Splendor (there’s more than one reason I love Gale) so I just kind of casually googled if Baldur’s Gate had the same thing. I found this fellow nerd with a similar question and went from there. If you don’t want to look at the analysis the title is enough: there’s no definitive canon spot where it says what Baldur’s Gate currency was called, but they did trade in Trade Bars. Further research (don’t knock my academic writing) showed that Baldur’s Gate set the standard weight for silver trade bars in the Sword Coast and possibly beyond (there’s only so many books I can read). 

For a list of the full terms of coins as collected by a few people, you can check this link or this one. 

With that established, I thought about how the British currency got its name (the pound). After researching to make sure I wasn’t fully insane about how that came about, the pound was the monetary value of one pound of silver (a fortune at the time). It retained the name after the UK established the currency with gold backing, in other words keeping enough gold somewhere in a vault that amounted to the total minted currency in the country. More recently, most economies have entered fiat currency, basically the principle of saying “bro you know I’m good for it” when they print their money. 

So imagining that Baldur’s Gate had a similar economic history: they started with physical trade bars with a government set weight and monetary value. They changed to paper because of convenience but continued to hold that much physical money in a vault somewhere and the single paper bill was equivalent to a 2lb Trade Bar represented in that vault. As they moved into the modern era and realized printed money was infinite but resources like silver and gold were limited they began practicing fiat backed currency. The paper is called a trade bar or bar because that’s what it represented so that’s what it was always called. Because the physical bars were 5 inches long they could be easily cut into inches and separated that way for partial payments back in the day so the biggest coins are bar fifths (think if the US did .20c fifths instead of .25c quarters) 

So Dehlia gets 10gp roughly in tips for her 5 song set. Now in the time BG3 is set, a “poor” lifestyle is 73gp a year. So does Dehlia earn 1/7th (roughly) of scraping together a living in 15 minutes? Making the fractions fract (not the verb for that using it anyway) 73gp/yr for a poor lifestyle should equal 1800L/yr (the 2022 UK poverty line not including housing). So by that estimation it’s 0.0406~ gp per L. So, Dehlia’s 10gp equivalent trade bar equals roughly 0.41L. Hardly enough for a tea or coffee. So then we take into account inflation! With inflation at roughly 1.3% a year, that takes the .41 to 333L. Which… also doesn’t make any sense. So we went digging for more nerds! And it turns out the math for a gold piece doesn’t make too much sense. http://www.kenthedm.com/blog/2019/8/7/how-much-is-a-gold-piece-worth-5e https://medium.com/@Swizzler/what-is-a-dungeons-and-dragons-gold-piece-worth-in-modern-dollars-fcd7670b285b 

Some other people have put a lot of thought into how money maths. And they end up with a 1492 (ish) gold piece would be worth about 35$ or 100$ based on whether you consider it across the economy or tied in worth specifically to food. The more conservative of which put us much closer to what our above math works out to. But is a nonsense amount for Dehlia to just carry in her pocket. 

So how do we get from a trade bar being equal to 10 gp and therefore 333L to a reasonable number? Well I arbitrarily decided to move the decimal up another place, putting into canon a world in which the trade bar at some point stopped being worth 10gp but instead became a stand in for a single gp. A trade bar is now worth roughly 33L. More than enough for a coffee while also not being a ridiculous number. I also decided to never try and make fictional currency make sense again.  

#bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #cults and coffee shops #spider and songbird

[crowfeatherquill]

It's First Friday Again!!!

Wow omg a month has gone by and I have done so many things that Aren't Post. Anyway here have some pocket sand in the vague shape of God's Favorite Princess.

The wizard, as it happens, is an incessant chatterer. Gale-of-Waterdeep, as he’d introduced himself -- as though they were supposed to have heard of him -- has managed to cram more words into the past hour than Shadowheart would likely have heard in the course of a week in the House of Grief. He rambles about anything and everything: about how he’d survived the Nautiloid crash by pulling on the Weave and subsequently gotten himself trapped between the realms; about the risk of transformation that all of them now face -- ceremorphosis, he’d called it -- and how imperative it is that they find a healer in short order; about how the goblin corpses they’ve found are almost certainly an indication of a nearby den, and about how cautious they should be if they prefer their skin to stay attached to their flesh.

It’s in the middle of a truly dumbfounding ramble about the potential origins of some weathered old statuary they find at the top of the cliff face, back near the thrice-damned impenetrable bloody door where Tathlyn had run across her in the first place, that the drow finally puts a hand up for silence, the lines of his body going tense as he tilts his head toward some noise that Gale can’t have noticed past the sound of his own windbagging.

Gale, to a degree of credit Shadowheart had not been entirely prepared to grant him, does pause mid-natter and attune himself vaguely in the direction that Tathlyn’s attention has been drawn. Now that there is quiet, all three of them are able to hear the sounds of raised voices drifting on the air from some distance ahead of them, deeper into the ruin they’ve found.

“There could be all sorts of loot in that thing! Don’t you want to be rich?”

It’s a grating, brash sort of voice. Tathlyn edges closer to the stone arch that blocks their line of sight, steps quiet.

“Of course I want to be rich. Just not if it’ll get me killed.”

This second voice seems harried, almost pleading. Shadowheart wonders how many times these strangers have had arguments that are just variations on this same theme. Gale creeps up to Tathlyn’s shoulder in a laughable pantomime of stealth. 

“How to proceed, I wonder?” His voice is a restrained hiss when he speaks, but Tathlyn still cuts a stern gesture at him, insisting upon a return to stillness.

Shadowheart watches as Tathlyn strains to form a picture of their unseen company from their words alone, and Gale hovers at his side. A curl of grim satisfaction stirs in her and she stays where she is, providing no input. What they do here, how they respond, will be more telling than anything they have yet encountered. It’s information she needs if she’s to continue traveling alongside them. “I swear, you’re both twice as tall as me but have half the bloody backbone,” the brash voice spits, “You’ll die as bloody paupers unless you take a few risks. Either we act now, or someone will pick that wreck clean and leave us nothing.”

[Continued on AO3]

#bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 oc #bg3 tav #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 oc #drow tav #shadowheart #bg3 shadowheart #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale

[crowfeatherquill]

In Which Crow Does Things That Aren't Spider And Songbird

Hello gentlefriends! I'm posting fic again But Different This Time!!

My goal here is to have a chapter of this ready on the first Friday of every month. If I happen across a windfall of inspiration and end up with a massive backlog, posting frequency might increase, but I'd expect slow updates overall. Hope you enjoy <3

If there is one thing that carving out a modest existence for himself in the Underdark has taught Tathlyn, it’s that there’s a first time for everything. If there is a second thing it has taught him, it’s that the stranger and more interesting your life is, the harder the gods have to work to find new firsts for you.

This wouldn’t be the first time he’s staggered about, disoriented and surrounded by fire, in the hopes of finding a path to safety. It also wouldn’t be the first time he’s been unable to escape the stench of burning flesh. It is, however, the first time he’s had the opportunity to do something quite so visceral as to crush an intellect devourer to death while it squirms, not-quite-born, in the skull of its unfortunate host.

There’s little time to process such a gruesome undertaking, though. The blood has scarcely dried on his hands when he catches his first glimpse of the landscape outside the burning…whatever-it-is. Nautiloid, the runic tablets had called it, as they bled information directly into his brain like the tip of an inked quill dipped in water. Part vessel, part creature, entirely disgusting, and frankly quite far down his list of priorities for unpacking. By his estimation, it ranks somewhere beneath the fact that, if the endless expanse of burning brimstone is anything to judge by, this Nautiloid-thing has found its way into the Hells. That fact itself is also swiftly outranked by the bellowing bloody dragon that dives across his field of view, arcing flame toward the Nautiloid’s hull -- or perhaps husk would be more appropriate? -- before being chased off by flashing purple cannon fire.

He takes a few staggering steps toward the nearest vertical surface -- something to reach out and ground himself against in the face of a tidal wave of panic -- and finds it unfortunately fleshy. He pulls away with a grimace, wiping his hand down the front of his armor and leaving a smear of slime mixed with the still-tacky blood of the intellect devourer. He’s too occupied with his own disgust to notice the figure prowling above him until it’s too late.

She descends in an arc from over his head and before he has the chance to reach for a sword he doesn’t have, hers is at his throat. This, too, is far from a first, but a fleeting sense of foolishness does cut the panic briefly. It’s been a long time since something managed to get the drop on him from above. There are far too many things that like to cling to cavern ceilings in the Underdark for him to risk ignoring his upper periphery under normal circumstances.

She calls him abomination. Intones a threat with confidence he is all too familiar with. But before she can deliver, something squirms behind the eye he would have called his good one up till now. He sees her stagger, just briefly, before he’s launched into visions -- scattered images seen through eyes that aren’t his at all. A dragon’s wing from an impossible angle. A silver sword nearly the size of its wielder from tip to pommel. A brief flash of his own face, wan and sweaty, the imprint of his magic writhing around his dead eye in response to his unease.

He looks a fright, he realizes. He can hardly blame her for thinking him an enemy.

#longer preview under the cut #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 oc #bg3 tav #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 oc #drow tav #male tav #bg3 lae'zel #shadowheart #taproot #tathlyn

[crowfeatherquill]

I have realized I should like...continue updating this blog even when I'm not working on Spider and Songbird probably lmao. Anyway here have two paragraphs of Astarion being struck absolutely stupid by feeling sunlight on his skin. They're for an upcoming project that I....may? Start posting soon? We'll see whether I'm actually able to pick up momentum on it enough that I think I could post regularly.

#bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion ancunin #current wip #taproot

[crowfeatherquill]

It's Here It's Here It's Here!!!!

This was so much work, holy shit, but I'm so glad we've done it and are continuing to do it, and I couldn't be happier with how it's turning out.

I hope y'all enjoy reading it as much as we've enjoyed writing it. Here's to more!

Spider and Songbird Sunday Chapter 15 and Hiatus Announcement

This chapter marks the end of arc 1! Originally Bebbo/@crowfeatherquill and I were just going to end Spider and Songbird here and do a sequel eventually titled Home For Dinner. While S&S focuses on Dehlia and Tathlyn's very different lives while separated, and the traumas both have endured, HfD focused on how the idealized family that they both had built up in their heads wasn't a reality and coming to terms with that. It's got a lot of mental health narrative in it because Tathlyn's life has been, suffice it to say, mad fucked up and our boy needs therapy. Dehlia on the other hand, who has led a life of relative shelter and safety has never learned that she's allowed to say the things that happened to her were mad fucked because she's been comparing herself to her lost/presumed dead brother. S&S, I think, focuses a bit more on Tathlyn's story and HfD recenters around Dehlia's trauma a bit, I think.

So about the Hiatus: Bebbo and I have run out of our banked chapters and we need to prep! We don't have a strict timeline for this hiatus because it's more about getting things written. We'll be back when we have banked 2 chapters each of Spider and Songbird Part 2 Home For Dinner and we'll keep uploading weekly on Sundays.

In the meanwhile! We have some planned Behind the Scenes (i think there's art planned and at least one worldbuilding essay), When All The Flowers Are Rotten (Dehlia's solo arc) will continue bi-weekly on Saturdays (chapter 3 is next week) and we continue to answer comments and asks as they roll in!

Enjoy Chapter 15: In Which, Finally, Dehlia Meets Tathlyn

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #fanfic #astarion #cults and coffee shops #spider and songbird #karlach #tathlyn #dehlia #modern au #coffeeshop au #spider and songbird sunday

[crowfeatherquill]

Spider and Songbird Sunday

We are closing in on the conclusion of this arc, y'all. It's wild to me how far we've come since the beginning. Enjoy

The sound of breaking glass was what woke them. Tathlyn shortly after Zevlor, presumably because it was the heaviest Tathlyn had slept in at least five years. Maybe as long as he could remember. The sound of the canister rolling in through the bedroom door shook off whatever remaining hold sleep had over him and he shielded his eyes before the flash. It didn’t stop the deafening noise, and it didn’t stop the second canister that broke through the bedroom window from filling the room with smoke, but it at least kept him from going blind. 

Zevlor tapped him on the shoulder as smoke slowly filled the room and handed him a scrap of cloth torn from the sheet. He tied it around his nose and mouth and tucked the edge under the collar of his shirt. Far from perfect, but it would do in the pinch they found themselves in. Zevlor pressed a knife into his hand and gestured to the hinged side of the door. The doors swung inward in this room. If he was on the hinged side and Zevlor on the opening side, he’d be hidden from view. Zevlor… It worried him that the man who’d promised to keep him safe was opening himself up to injury, but there was little he could do about it. Odds were that Zevlor was far less rusty than he was after 5 years of breathing in mold and cold air. 

He took his position and waited, trying to ignore the ringing in his ears and the pounding of his heart beat. They’d made a mistake somewhere, whoever it was that had broken in, that much was clear. Either their information was bad or they’d severely underestimated him and Zevlor. That vital misstep, Tathlyn would tell Halsin later, was what saved him and Zevlor from a much worse time.

#bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 oc #bg3 tav #cults and coffee shops #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 oc #spider and songbird #spider and songbird sunday #tathlyn #zevlor #halsin #minthara

[crowfeatherquill]

This is one of those "damn it'd be nice if they'd cut those fuckers a break" chapters I was talking about. Stay safe out there kids.

Spider and Songbird Sunday! part 2

Content Warning: domestic violence, gaslighting, serious injury

She remembered what Arden said, the last text he’d sent her before she’d blocked his number three years ago. Right after the image of the kind and glowing person she looked up to had shattered. I just hope you won't get hurt, Princess. How he had been the first one to hurt her then, when everything he had done came to light. How she had torn out the fabric of her car roof, covered in poetry from dozens of different people in dozens of different pens, and hidden it in a box in her closet because she couldn't see his words anymore without screaming. How she’d almost called him the first time Enver hit her. How she decided not to when Enver held her so gently while she cried and pressed ice to the bruise and offered to have her taken home without him. How she thought that the two men she’d trusted outside of her family had fallen so hard from her expectations of them. How she had no one to blame but herself for trusting them. For not seeing the signs. I just hope you won't get hurt, Princess.

Woof, that got heavy gang. Go read our happy holiday scene for a pick me up, we'll be back with Tathlyn next week! Stay safe, happy holiday.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #cults and coffee shops #arden #jaheira #daddy jo #dehlia #enver #enver gortash #spider and songbird #spider and songbird sunday #it's another double feature!!!

[crowfeatherquill]

Spider and Songbird Sunday!

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I just-- I’m worried. This…this is a lot for ‘waiting until you’re prepared,’ and…look, I’m not here to judge you. I’m not your dad, and you’re an adult, and I don’t want to act like you don’t…y’know, have a perfectly capable brain in your head. If you’re into it, you’re into it, and that’s…that’s fine, that’s great, but…Princess, he made you bleed. On night one. I just-- I-I trust you. I do. And if it’s fine, then it’s fine, and I won’t say another word about it, but…be careful? Keep those big eyes open. For me?”

She bypassed the offer to hold hands and threw herself at him - always too small to worry about someone not catching her - and clung to his shirt, sobbing loud and hard into it. Arden tucked his arms around her and let her cry into his shoulder. He rubbed his thumbs along her spine, doing his best to avoid the bruises, and settled back against the coffee table until she’d finished. She thought her sobs would shake the walls apart or at least his ribs. When she cried herself out, he cleaned and bandaged the mark and tucked her into his bed so she could rest. He took care of her. 

And when she woke up in the early evening, she called Enver. She asked to see him in the morning; told him that there was something she wanted to talk about. He agreed and told her he would make breakfast. He asked if she had eaten dinner and if she needed him to send something to the dorm. She told him she was getting food with a friend and later, she sent him a picture of her lips around the tip of a slice of pizza. She tried not to analyze that she didn’t tell him which friend. 

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #cults and coffee shops #spider and songbird #dehlia #enver gortash #college au #coffeeshop au #spider and songbird sunday #i may or may not have doctored real actual in-character texts that me and jack sent each other for this chapter cover #don't ask me why i was willing to put that much effort in #i have terminal tryhard disease but only for things that do not in any way matter

[crowfeatherquill]

If you've ever been reading Spider and Songbird and thought "Damn it'd be great if they'd cut these poor fuckers a break," this one's for you.

Spider and Songbird Solstice(ish) Sunday!

Happy holidays everyone!

Since our regularly scheduled programing comes on a holiday, I blackmailed Bebbo into writing a happy winter holiday bit, post events of S&S where everyone has their happily ever afters (because we've hit a really sad part and wanted to give you all a blanket and hot cocoa to get you through it)

We're coming up towards the conclusion of part 1 of Spider and Songbird where our titular siblings are reunited and we've loved having you all with us. Baldur's Gate means a lot to me, it's the first video game I ever played and it taught me a lot of my life lessons (there's no exp for staying safely on the road/at the inn being the main one, kind strangers when you need them are not necessarily friends is another) and Baldur's Gate 3 lives up to the hype I had for it. I love being able to tell this story with my friend and have all of my strange online friends read it. As always, send me any asks, any comments, any anythings and I'll answer everything about the world, the AU, and my beloved Dehlia (and Ashes and Kitty my other Tavs who make a surprise appearance here) Full story below the cut if you'd like it, link to the Ao3 version here

Dehlia was the one that organized the Winter Solstice party. Of course she was, she was the most interested in parties of any of the regulars. In Waterdeep the Solstice overlapped with Simril, and she insisted that the Emerald Grove celebrate accordingly. It was cold, not quite to snowing, but she had convinced Halsin to organize the get-together on a hillside far away from the city. They arrived over the course of the day, in carpooled van loads of regulars and workers and friends and family, the last of them showing up just before sundown. Halsin had a hot cocoa and cider station set up. Someone brought hard cider, spiked eggnog, and wine. Karlach organized a bonfire and a s’mores station. The bonfire was perhaps bigger than was strictly (or legally) safe for making s’mores at, but no one had the heart to tell Karlach that. It was her first Simril, she hadn’t been to Waterdeep or Neverwinter during the season, and it was the first time in a long time she’d been able to celebrate any holiday with friends. Gale had star charts and a telescope set up at the peak of the hill and was lecturing anyone who would listen, which largely accounted for his partner, Ashes, and Lae’zel, about the cosmos. 

Dehlia was running around, ever the perfect hostess, making sure everyone had enough blankets, that they knew where to get s’mores and hot drinks, to make sure they knew where to look for their star. She could find the star anyone was born under as long as they knew when and where they were born. After all, the point of Simril was to find their lucky stars they were born under, or that their ancestors were born under, and point them out to loved ones. So if they didn’t know their star, she would help them so they could enjoy the holiday. She was maneuvering past the Bluetooth speaker when an arm shot out to snake around her waist. In a smooth movement she was pulled against the chest of a very handsome man who laughed at her and spun her in a circle in time to the music. She laughed along, placing her hand in Wyll’s and tilting up on her toes to brush a kiss against his jaw. He tilted to kiss her properly as they swayed in a slow circle to a song about stars. 

“You don’t have to race around like there’s someone to impress. This night is about celebrating, even for you. Dance with me?” He whispered against Dehlia’s ear, leaned over her with one hand placed gently against the small of her back and the other holding her hand to his chest. 

“Always, handsome. Thank you for reminding me,” she pressed another kiss to his cheek. “I love you.” 

Tathlyn watched his sister, happy in the arms of her partner, from a pile of blankets near  the bonfire. More than the hot drink or the bonfire at his back, the thing that seemed to warm him the most was the sight of her enjoying herself. Even after all the improvements to both of their lives, it still seemed like a rare and precious thing to get to watch Dehlia letting herself be happy.

 Astarion, curled into fifteen or so blankets dragged from the offered blankets and their own home, grumbled about the cold. Again. 

“Here, love,” he opened an arm, indulgent, and Astarion shuffled closer, shoving the tip of his nose into the crook of Tathlyn’s neck.

“I really don’t understand why we bothered,” Astarion griped, “We could’ve done something at the cafe. Or at home. With the heat going.”

“We bothered because we like these people.” Tathlyn nudged his jaw against Astarion’s forehead, affectionately. “At this point, I don’t think anyone’s going to believe you no matter how hard you try to pretend like you don’t. Plus, we wouldn’t be able to see the stars if we stayed inside, now would we?”

Astarion hummed, unconvinced, and burrowed closer to Tathlyn’s side.

“Yes, well. Whose fault is that, I wonder? All this affection has ruined my good reputation, you know.”

Tathlyn chuckled and rubbed Astarion’s arm.

“If it’s really bothering you that much, I can go and get you some cider?”

His offer was met with immediate indignation -- Astarion’s arms coiling around his waist to pin him in place.

“Don’t you dare. I’ll freeze to death. And besides, if the whole point of this is to look at stars…” he glanced up through his eyelashes, “I’m right here.”

That pulled another laugh from Tathlyn, who reached up to cup the side of Astarion’s face and pull him into a gentle kiss.

“Alright,” he ceded, “Maybe if you stare at Halsin long enough, he’ll take pity and bring some over. Put those big sad eyes to some use.” 

“And what use are Astarion’s big sad eyes being put to?” Halsin appeared, kneeling behind them with a tray of hot drinks. 

“Pretty much exactly this,” Tathlyn replied, gratefully accepting the mug of hot coffee Halsin passed him. 

For Astarion, there was a cup of mulled wine, with a bottle of heated wine to be tucked into his cave of blankets. Left on the tray was another mug of mulled wine, a hot cocoa with extra whipped cream, sprinkles, and marshmallows, and Halsin’s peppermint tea. 

“Your sister seems happy, my heart. I’m sure she’s all the happier with you here. Both of you,” Halsin settled in and pulled Astarion flush against his side. “And it’s a beautiful night outside.” 

Astarion tucked the heated bottle into the blankets against his middle and leaned into Halsin’s side, sighing contentedly. Tathlyn rolled his eyes and shuffled closer, closing what little distance had been made as Halsin tucked Astarion against him.

“Unbelievable. Wrap him in enough blankets to smother a small dog and all he does is complain, but you cuddle up with him for five seconds and he melts.”

Astarion cracked one eye open to glance over at Tathlyn and shrugged.

“He brought a hot…well, wine bottle,” he sniffed, “And he’s warmer than you. Not my fault.”

“No, I suppose it’s not. Ass.” Tathlyn bumped his leg against Astarion’s and took a sip of his coffee. He was pleasantly surprised to find it tasted of cocoa powder and a bit of whipped cream.

“Unfortunately, my hearts, I have other obligations to share my warmth,” Halsin nuzzled against the shell of Astarion’s ear as he delivered the unfortunate news, as if it would soften the blow. 

He gestured to Kitty Luckfoot who stumbled her way across the field, wrapped in a blanket and holding onto Zevlor’s arm. She shivered so hard, despite the bulky jacket closed over her sweater, mittens, beanie, and fleece-lined tights stuffed into snow-proof boots. Her dyed pigtails stuck out of the bottom of the beanie and her cheeks and nose were red with the cold, but she looked up at Zevlor and laughed loudly at whatever he said. Zevlor carried two folded blankets over one arm and a hot water bottle in a crocheted cozy in his hand that wasn’t gently supporting the smaller young woman. 

“You enjoyed the s’mores?” Halsin asked as they approached. 

Kitty sat and tucked herself into Halsin’s offered lap, draping her legs off the side facing away from Astarion. Zevlor tucked a blanket around her legs and stuck the hot water bottle under her knees. Halsin passed her the sugary cocoa and Zevlor a mug of wine. With a chuckle he wiped a smear of chocolate and melted marshmallow from the corner of her mouth. She beamed up at him. 

“Hello, Tathlyn. Astarion. Halsin, my love, have you tried the ones with peanut butter in them? I didn’t think you could improve on a s’more!” 

Halsin’s chuckle rumbled through his chest into Astarion and Kitty as one hand stroked Astarion’s back and the other settled on Kitty’s hip to keep her in place on his lap. 

“Evening, Tathlyn. Cold out, isn’t it?” Zevlor sent a friendly smile to Tathlyn with a knowing look at the bundle of Astarion’s blankets. “Having a good time?” 

“I’ve never celebrated a Simril before, Tathlyn. Have you? With your dads?” Kitty tilted her head to look at him as she asked, the ever pleasant smile that she shared with her boyfriends the same quality as the one she gave her metamour.

The moment of pleasant cuddling was briefly interrupted with an uproarious burst of laughter as Rolan pointed to a star in the sky and Lia mocked him. The trio sat farther away from the light of the bonfire, near Gale and his telescope with a star map spread out between them. 

“Rolan, there’s no way that’s your star, it’s on the wrong side of the sky for this season,” Lia teased him. 

“No, no, look at the chart! That rectangle intersects with that triangle and right in the middle is my star. I know what I’m talking about, tell her Cal.” 

Cal held up his hands as if surrendering and shrugged slightly. Lia gently pushed Cal in the shoulder, still laughing, and took a swig from a mug of something warm. 

“Laugh all you want, you two, I know which my star is. And where it is.” Rolan grumpily swigged his mulled wine and crossed his arms. 

“Oh sure you do. And with all of this knowledge of the stars, maybe you can seduce someone into accompanying you to Simril parties, instead of your older sister,” Lia’s teasing continued. 

“And younger brother, I’m here too. Besides, Rolan doesn’t need to seduce anyone. He’s got tons of secret admirers. Gets notes from ‘em left at the Grove. You should see some of the things they say about him, Lia. Actually, on second thought, no you shouldn’t. And neither should I. And maybe neither should anyone at the Grove that has to deliver them,” Cal drew his remarks to a rambling close as Rolan choked on his wine. Lia only laughed harder. 

“And what’s so funny about that? I’m admirable! There’s lots to admire about me!” Rolan’s glare covered a modicum of insecurity that his siblings saw easily, even if he didn’t. He somehow folded his arms harder after swiping the spilled wine off his chin and shirt front.

“Well and who wouldn’t admire him?” Lia ruffled his hair. “About to start his big job as Lororokan’s apprentice, soon to be heir to the Sundries line, and handsome to boot. Our brilliant little brother.” Her voice was full of admiration and the tips of Rolan’s ears flushed. 

“I’ve never heard a good thing about that man, if you run into any trouble, you come let me know, Rolan,” Gale called over as he dropped onto the picnic blanket Ashes had stretched out. 

Gale had nagged them the entire time they packed about bringing more blankets, but when they got there he hadn’t sat still long enough for them to wrap him in one. Even as he dropped to sit next to Ashes he pulled the blankets higher on their lap, instead of around his own shivering shoulders. Ossito was lying at Ashes’ feet, but whining as he watched Ashes’ Scratch and Tathlyn’s Scratch chase each other in circles. 

“Now, Ossito. You are a very capable young man, and incredibly strong. You have done a wonderful job protecting our dear Ashes. If you’d like to play with your friends, you may, but you must do so respectfully and carefully. Do not knock people or their drinks over. Stay away from the telescope - I suppose that is ‘big metal thing’ to you - and don’t chase each other into the bonfire. Do you understand?” 

Ossito gave a whine, probably not of acknowledgement, and nuzzled Ashes’ hand before licking a long stripe of slobber up Gale’s face and running off. Ashes laughed as Gale grimaced and wiped at his face. They lay back, resting their head on Gale’s lap. Gale brushed their hair back from their face and they pressed their forehead into his cool hand. 

“Finally back from your trip among the stars, my dear?” 

“I’m sorry I was gone so long, did you miss me?” Gale lifted their hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of their hand and their palm. 

Play barking broke out and Ossito launched himself into the puppy play-bow to the other dogs’ delight. 

“I did. Were you thinking of your research?” They brushed their fingers down the side of his beard. 

Tara, not one to be left out or outdone, climbed onto Ashes’ stomach, nestling among the blankets and purring as she kneaded the fabric. Ashes tried not to wince as the claws pricked their skin and set their free hand to scratching between the cat’s shoulder blades. 

“I was. Would you like to hear about it?” He scooped a complaintitive Tara from Ashes’ stomach and laid her on his unoccupied leg. 

With minor grumbling, Tara settled in, tucking her paws underneath her and purring as he stroked her with his hand that wasn’t clasping Ashes’. 

“Love to. You know I like hearing your research,” they pressed a kiss into his hand in return.

“So you see, the theory of independent planes hung in the Astral Sea being separated by globes that protect our planes has one caveat that prevents our isolation. Within this theory there are common realms, or planes of existence that exist connecting every possible plane: the elemental planes being one of them. Because of this theory, we must consider that time is fixed as any alternate timeline would be able to be connected and thus would run the risk of a person able to travel through these connected planes running into an alternate timeline version of themself. This, due to many theories of time travel, would result in the destruction of the world as we know it and therefore must not be possible. Therefore: if we really are but one realm in the Astral Sea, time travel must be impossible. If time travel is possible, the Astral Sea must be devoid of all other sentient life.” 

A choking sound came from the other couple nestled together on a picnic blanket, admiring the stars. Shadowheart appeared to be choking on her hot buttered rum and her partner stared at Gale. 

“That’s the stupidest, most convoluted shit I’ve ever heard,” Liam said. 

He spared a glance at Shadowheart, brow furrowed, as she continued to cough, but she waved him off with the hand that wasn’t clutching her mug for dear life and he contented himself with setting a hand on her back.

“Seriously, I don’t want to be an asshole and ordinarily I’d never dismiss a theory out-of-hand without at least giving you the chance to defend it first, but…really? Bubbles. We’re all in impenetrable bubbles, except that some of them are touching every other possible extant bubble, and not only does that necessarily indicate that alternate timelines would be their own impenetrable bubbles, it also proves that there aren’t any, because we’d have run into ourselves by now? Do-- you hear yourself when you talk. Right? Please tell me you hear yourself.”

“Don’t heckle,” Shadowheart croaked, setting down her mug and slumping into Liam’s side, “He’s not starting a debate with you he’s enchanting his partner with the mysteries of the universe.”

“I’m not heckling,” Liam insisted, turning his full attention back to her, “And that wasn’t mystery, it was bad theorem. He just makes everything sound romantic. It’s infuriating.”

“Please,” Shadowheart affected an exaggerated groan, “I am begging you. On bended knee. Shut the fuck up.”

Liam paused a moment to watch her pantomime an impassioned plea before bending to meet her forehead with his.

“You could always give me something more important to do with my mouth.” He lowered his voice so only she could hear him, and she met his shameless flirting with a firm, silencing kiss.

One of her hands slid up the front of his chest to twine through his hair, and he put an arm around her waist to pull her closer.

“You taste sweet,” he mused when she pulled away for air.

“Could taste sweeter,” came the retort, and she made to stand up, pulling him with her, “You’re making me s’mores. And you’re going to leave our poor besotted Professor Loquacious alone.”

Liam followed her dragging lead as though she were strong enough to move him against his will, laughing all the while.

Karlach greeted the two with an affectionate wolf-whistle as they drew closer to the bonfire she’d taken up full responsibility for tending.

“Hey there, hot stuff!” she crowed, beckoning the happy couple closer with a broad wave of her arm, “You here to join the fun?”

“Hot stuff, yourself,” Shadowheart teased, “You’re the one keeping this thing burning. Ingredients. Where are they?”

Arden sidled up alongside them as Shadowheart voiced her question and gestured vaguely toward the table that had been set up to hold the various tools and sweets they’d assembled for making s’mores.

“S’over there.” His reply was muffled around his hand, which he was in the process of trying to clean melted chocolate off of with his tongue.

“Yeah, provided this one hasn’t run us out yet.”

Karlach swept Arden into her arms as she spoke, earning her a yelp and a startled giggle as she spun him around.

“How are you, gorgeous? Keeping warm?” She kept her arms twined around him even after she’d set him back down, and he had no problem leaning in to press against her, resting his forehead against her shoulder for a moment.

“Hmmm. This helps,” he hummed, “But either way I’d be okay.”

She took the opportunity while he leaned on her to nuzzle into his hair. It was soft, like always, and smelled of her shampoo. Well. At this point it was really more their shampoo with how often they shared it, but that didn’t change the effect that smelling it on him had on her.

“What about you,” he pulled back to fiddle with her scarf, “I know you’re over here being Madame Bonfire, but like-- you okay? You need anything?”

“Oh, I’m just fine. Got my friends, got activities, got sweets. Got a snack,” she gave him a playful squeeze, “Relax, gorgeous. Nobody’s on the hook to take care of nobody. Tonight’s just for having fun, yeah?”

He huffed and tipped his head back into her shoulder as a smile crept over his face.

“Alright. Alright. Yeah.”

A small hand brushed against Arden’s jacket pocket, the leather of his wallet half out of the pocket before Din’s voice carried, not angry or harsh, across the fire. 

“Silfy, we do not take wallets during Simril celebrations.” 

Silfy looked up at Arden and Karlach, releasing the wallet quickly. Tears welled in her eyes immediately. 

“C’mon old man, you’re always telling us we need to educate ourselves. A thorough education is the gift that keeps on giving, after all. Don’t you want Silfy to practice her lessons?” Mol called back, emerging from a hiding place behind a crate of s’mores supplies. 

Mol’s smirk and eyepatch met Arden’s and even with only one eye visible, it was clear she winked at him. A secret between two sneaky children. 

“Mol, I don’t want to do this anymore,” Silfy cried, “I don’t like this game.” 

Mol started to respond when a heavy hand clapped her shoulder. She looked up into the eyes of Dehlia and Tathlyn’s other father, Jo, and that smirk turned into an almost sheepish smile. 

“Not that lesson, little one.” 

Mol gave a solemn nod, a slight cackle, and ran off into the grass. Karlach swung Silfy up into her arms, telling her a story about dragons and dwarves and a little thief that saved the day. She could always be trusted to cheer up a crying child. Jo joined them and gave Arden a nod. 

“Sorry about that, Arden. We’ll try to keep a handle on the little ones, but I’m afraid your influence on Mol has been… well you’ll be roped into her games no matter how we try to stop her I’m afraid,” Jo offered a conciliatory shrug. 

“Nothing to apologize for,” Arden chuckled, “I’m not about to get upset over something I absolutely brought on myself. Not at you, and for sure not at the little lady.” He gave Silfy what he hoped was an encouraging tap on her heel -- easy to reach now that she was up in Karlach’s arms -- and a conciliatory smile.

Din walked up behind Jo, a child sat on his shoulders, and wrapped an arm around Jo’s waist. 

“Ew, if you’re going to start kissing, I’m leaving,” Mirkon complained from his perch. 

“Better get going then,” Jo teased and lifted the child from Din’s shoulders. 

Mirkon, the one that was least likely to cause trouble on purpose, ran off to join the other kids and the dogs at play. They wouldn’t last the whole night, they never did. Dehlia, on occasion, still didn’t stay up the whole night, falling asleep just after midnight and needing to be carried back to her bed, even as an adult. Jo’s eyes trailed after the children, more than he thought he’d ever have on his own, in wonderment. 

“I think that means I get a kiss now, husband,” Din teased, looping both arms around Jo’s waist and pulling him tight. 

“That you do, husband,” Jo murmured out before Din pressed a kiss to his lips. 

“Dads, not in front of the children!” Dehlia laughed, still in Wyll’s arms. 

He seemed reluctant to let her go, to watch her go back to being busy and untouchable as she played the hostess, even out in this hilly field. 

The fire crackled as the wind blew in, drawing some clouds with it. 

“It’s a blessing from Tymora if you can find your star on a cloudy night,” Gale was announcing to the children who had grown too tired or cold and finally sat down to listen to the explanations of stars and charts. 

The eruption of children calling for help finding their stars, bragging that they already knew their stars, and calling the other liars joined the sound of music and laughter. Snow started falling, a soft flurry of flakes drifting in on the wind. 

“Now, Arden, we’re not saying we expect grandchildren, but as our other two children seem to have the worst time of it getting to the married stage, we are hoping for a proposal from or to you by the end of next year. No pressure, of course, it’s your relationship, but-” 

“Yes pressure, very much pressure. Please, please, please, Arden? Karlach? Get engaged so they’ll stop hounding me?” Dehlia has whirled beside them, dragging Wyll along with her.   

Arden flushed from neck to hairline and failed to restrain a nervous laugh. He opened his mouth to respond and Karlack, who’d released Silfy to go and join the other kids in finding their stars, draped her arms over his shoulders from behind.

“C’mon, gorgeous. We propose stuff to each other all the time. What’s one more thing?”

Arden leaned back into her.

“Not to be picky, but you’re gonna have to do better than that if you want to put a ring on me, Lady Knight.” 

Lae’zel had somehow been roped into playing with the children and dogs, teaching the children the best way to throw a ball so it goes the farthest without getting lost, her partner watching with delight. Minsc attempted to convince children and Ossito that Boo, while small and adorable, was not actually a toy. The children took it about as well as Ossito while Jaheira and her children watched and laughed. Dame Aylin and Isobel were cuddled next to the fire, Aylin holding three sticks loaded with roasting marshmallows. Alfira had taken over control of the music and was setting up something haunting and still worthy of being danced to. Tathlyn could be seen craning his neck to half-listen to the conversation about marriage from where he sat among the huddle of partners seeking warmth and hot drinks around Halsin. The rest of his attention remained on Astarion, and his continued vexation at having his idea -- using Halsin as a personal heater -- so boldly plagiarised. 

“Dehlia, that’s your star isn’t it?” Wyll pointed and her dads watched as she followed along his arm to see. 

“It is! Well done, Wyll,” she threw her arms around him and landed a kiss on his cheek. 

“Happy holidays, my love,” Jo whispered in Din’s ear as they watched their much expanded family in the newly falling snow. 

“Happy holidays.”   

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #cults and coffee shops #spider and songbird #happily ever after #tav bg3 #fluff #tathlyn #arden #kitty luckfoot #dehlia #astarion #shadowheart #bg3 gale #bg3 wyll #halsin #karlach #mol #silfy #ashes bg3 #zevlor #rolan #tav/astarion #tav/halsin #tav/wyll #tav/shadowheart #tav/zevlor #tav/karlach #tav/gale

[crowfeatherquill]

Spider and Songbird Sunday

Tathlyn's back, babes!!!!! (He's having...A Time.)

Tathlyn woke to the shadow of someone looming over him in the dim of the cabin he bunked in on the Approach, and before any articulate thought had the chance to cross his mind, he was lashing out with an elbow and shifting his weight to scramble for a better guard. He heard the sound of an impact at the same time that his shoulder erupted in pain and his attempt to brace for retaliation quickly turned into him curling protectively around the joint and squeezing his eyes shut.

His shirt didn’t feel wet when he brought his unoccupied hand to press against the aching wound. Maybe he’d gotten lucky and managed not to tear anything back open.

“Shit,” he hissed at the same time that his unfortunate crewmate barked a muffled “What the fuck, man?”

He forced himself to unfold from around his shoulder and sit up, though the closeness of the bunk above him kept him hunched. He didn’t fight the posture -- head low, mouth pressed into a grimace halfway between pain and contrition, spine curved into an uncomfortable apology.

#bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 oc #bg3 tav #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 oc #drow tav #cults and coffee shops #m!tav #spider and songbird sunday #spider and songbird #tathlyn

[crowfeatherquill]

As I while away my day doing TTRPGs, my good buddy Jack is making ART.

It's sad art but u should go look at it anyway.

Dehlia's Saturday Matinee

Spider and Songbird update on a Saturday????? Say it ain't so! I mean it's not. This is the start of Dehlia's spin off story When All The Flowers Are Rotten!

The chapters are going to be heavy heavy Victorian Flower Language coded and I'll be using this helpful pdf so we can all use the same flower definitions! Some chapters will be in Gortash's PoV and there will be explicit smut in this one unlike S&S. Each post will have a song to go with it because I'm that dork and no one can stop me! I'm thinking every other week optimistically, but honestly without @crowfeatherquill to keep me on track no one should expecte regular posts out of me. He's the only reason Spider and Songbird has a schedule and also the only reason that When All The Flowers Are Rotten got edited at all. Enjoy my loves! Oh and no matter how sad it gets, Dehlia gets a happy ending. She deserves it, I deserve it, the readers deserve it.

#dehlia #cults and coffee shops #spider and songbird #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #college au #tav bg3 #enver gortash #modern au #dehlia saturday matinee

[crowfeatherquill]

more Behind-The-Scenes stuff from the impeccable Jack!!

Spider and Songbird Behind the Scenes: Dehlia part 2

As we come back from intermissionlude: some bits about Dehlia’s newest chapter 

Writer advice at the top: If you find yourself making a trend in your writing by accident: lean into it and give it a reason. If you start with dialogue in every chapter decide what that means, why it’s happening, and what it will do to the story to have it change. 

The first thing I wrote about Dehlia was a long fic version of chapter 9 and 10 (it will be posted starting next week, chapter by chapter without as much wonderful @crowfeatherquill editing as he’s a busy guy so bear with me and my spelling and grammar and etc mistakes) which was titled (at the time) No Good Very Bad Dirty Rotten Ex 

It was developed as the explanation for why Dehlia will 1000% cause a scene when nothing is on the line for her, she’ll pretend to be wounded or distraught with screaming sobs to make Karens leave or to make men behave and then dry her eyes and call it acting, but when it’s actual emotions for her she freezes. When she cries it’s quiet. When she’s angry she’s stock still. When she’s scared she’s rooted to the spot and pale and shivering. And when deciding why that was, what in her life caused her to be this big bright personality that had such subdued emotional reactions when she was “off stage” I decided it was a toxic ex. It was a quick jump to a theater professor who treated her wrong (Gale and Astarion have similar backgrounds for the non-magic alterations of Mystra and Cazador) and then I couldn’t not write it. I made up a fictional man, with shaggy hair, slight stubble, a scar on his chin, a glint in his eyes, a smirk that made walls crumble. And then I realized about 10ish pages in that I wrote Gortash. And as we hadn’t decided what Gortash was doing (or any of the other big 3 villains) it was the perfect time to rope him in (we’ve since decided but a bunch of those are for future fic arcs) and give him a shitty backstory. 

The second thing I wanted to mention was that I realized when writing this chapter that all of Dehlia’s chapters start with dialogue so far. I realized that everytime it started with dialogue something was happening to her in the chapter, she wasn’t really quite the captain of her own ship yet. So I’ve decided to lean into it. She’ll continue leading with dialogue until she becomes the captain of this vessel and her life and then… well you’ll have to read that far to find out.  I think it’s a fun little writer tool I’ve decided to use, and I hope my fellow writing and reading nerds appreciate it and will appreciate me saying that it’s on purpose. 

#spider and songbird #writing #bg3 fan fiction #bg3 fan fic #gortash #when all the flowers are rotten #dehlia #bg3 tav

[crowfeatherquill]

Spider and Songbird Behind The Scenes

(Cos I promised y'all I was gonna talk about The Knife Thing)

Tathlyn BTS 1: On Intimacy and Knives

In the spirit of following through on my commitments, I am here to present you with a Behind-The-Scenes look at a thing that actually got touched on in an Ask we were sent a while back. A very astute reader mentioned that, despite us writing in a modern AU, and Tathlyn and Daddy Jo both being soldiers, it seemed like neither of them ever used guns.

At the time, the reason I gave was that arming them primarily with swords and knives was a way to preserve some of the “DnD” vibe in the otherwise modern setting. And that’s true, that is one of the reasons I’ve only had them use blades -- side note, Jack has included guns in many of the chapters they’ve written, or I would say “we.”  I’m the dramatic ren faire bitch making Sword Decisions and forgetting that I have other options with which to arm my little dudes.

As it so happens, though, there’s a secret second reason why Tathlyn in particular primarily uses blades (although he does branch out to firearms in a coming chapter. Spoilers. Shh.). And that reason is, of course, Complicated Intimacy Metaphors!

It is probably not going to come as a shock to anyone that Astarion shows up later in this AU. He doesn’t make a significant appearance in Spider and Songbird, but there are other fics in the same ‘verse that feature him pretty heavily, like Maxim of Loyalty. It’s also not likely to surprise anyone that he and Tathlyn get involved. I have, without really realizing it, committed to a running metaphor of Astarion and Tathlyn as Knife and Wielder (the most prominent example, and a teaser for an upcoming fic, shown below).

This isn’t the only time that knives and intimacy have been tied together for Tathlyn either! His stabbing of Derendil’s hand in “In Which Tathlyn Has A Heart” is, however gruesome and coerced by outside forces, several layers of intimacy, both in the act itself and in the circumstances around it. These are hands that Tathlyn has fantasized about for some time now -- how they might touch or hold him if things were different -- and he is being punished for craving that intimacy by injuring the source of it. But the act of stabbing Derendil is its own expression of intimacy and trust between the two of them regardless. Derendil doesn’t fight him. Trusts him enough to know that Tathlyn wouldn’t be doing this if he had other options.

And later, in the followup chapter, that same fragile trust and intimacy is punished again by another character Tathlyn shares a very close relationship with. Even if the dynamic between Tathlyn and Jorlan is far more twisted and abusive than what’s there between Tathlyn and Derendil, there’s still an intimacy and familiarity in Jorlan having been one of the people who most directly shaped what kind of soldier Tathlyn became. That, and the fact that Tathlyn was the one to save Jorlan’s life after the accident that took not only his looks but anything that might have remained of his mercy. Jorlan kills Derendil with a knife, and in doing so removes the burgeoning hope for a better life that Tathlyn had started to develop through his relationship with Derendil. Then, he tries to kill Tathlyn with that very same knife, and Tathlyn turns it on him.

I could go on for an additional essay worth of pages about the other layer to all this (Blood And Intimacy) but for now, suffice to say that in any scene where Tathlyn is using a knife as his primary weapon, there is likely to also be an abundance of intimacy (in some form or another) between him and anyone he’s using it on.

#bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 oc #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 oc #bg3 tav #drow tav #m!tav #male tav #tathlyn #spider and songbird sunday #spider and songbird #cults and coffee shops

[crowfeatherquill]

[toots own horn, but gentle-like]

Oh look another chapter that had Too Much Stuff to be Just One Chapter. What are the odds of this happening again??? (Moderately high. Is the answer.)

SONGBIRD SUNDAY PART 2?????

A double upload????? No way (yes way)

@crowfeatherquill did a baller ass job with this collage/cover

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #fanfic #spider and songbird #bg3 tav #tav bg3 #cults and coffee shops #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 oc #bg3 oc #enver gortash #dehlia #arden

[crowfeatherquill]

RIGHT???

Spider and Songbird Sunday!!!!

She back, she bad, you better believe it

We return with your regularly scheduled programming for a Dehlia chapter and our first romance arc! Nothing could possibly go wrong for our sweet little Moon Mote, right? RIGHT?

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #fanfic #spider and songbird sunday #bg3 tav #cults and coffee shops #bg3 fanfiction #tav bg3 #modern au #college au #dehlia #enver gortash