lockewrites

[lockewrites]

The nautiloid's worst first girl power band.

#bg3 #baldur's gate #baldur's gate iii #baldur's gate 3 #tav #durge #dark urge #the dark urge #rhegan #serilda emberlin #aurella emberlin #visage: serilda #visage: aurella #visage: rhegan

[lockewrites]

An Offer of Alliance

When Death Becomes Devotion - Chapter I

Rhegan (2nd-Person) x Gortash || SFW || 954 words AO3

NOT A RETELLING - just focusing on specific scenes

The Dark Urge break into Gortash's home with an offer.

He’ll be returning home soon; you know his schedule well by this point. 

You slip through the window, the shadows of the night obscuring you from the passing city guards. The study is littered with contraptions, half-worked metal and sketches covering nearly every surface. Looking them over, you can see the genius behind the ink and charcoal, even if you can’t follow all of the intricacies. 

The front door opens with a faint creak, and you disappear into the dark as you wait. His boots sound up the steps, and you ready your dagger, palming the leather hilt. 

A soft click, and the door beside you swings open, letting in the light of the hall and illuminating a man’s silhouette. 

In an instant, your blade is held to his throat, and his body stiffens under your touch.

“Enver Gortash,” you speak, lips right near his ear.

He raises his hands. “The very same. And by whom do I have the pleasure of being held at knifepoint?”

You tilt the knife, letting your knuckles rest under his jaw to feel his pulse. It’s steady, raised only slightly. 

“My dear family calls me ‘The Dark Urge,’” you reply. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for quite some time.”

“‘The Dark Urge,’” he repeats, a smile in his tone. “A pleasure to meet you , though I must prefer a more face-to-face introduction.”

The metal presses even deeper against his throat, more a tease than a threat, and his pulse remains a consistent beat. You and your weapon disappear in a cloud of dark smoke, your form returning in a chair opposite the room. Kicking your leg over the other, you lean back and tilt your head.

He watches you, though little is revealed behind your armor and mask, your eyes the only glimpse of your being. 

“Much more civilized,” Gortash remarks. “So, what is it I’ve done to earn your attention?”

“The cult keeps an eye on any upstarts in this city,” you reply, pointing at him with your dagger. “And you’ve been of particular interest.”

Gortash’s brow quirks. “Which cult is that?”

“My father’s.” Your leg begins to bounce. “The Lord of Murder.”

“Bhaal.”

“The very same.”

“So, another Bhaalspawn seeks control of the city?” His mouth twists into a smirk. “If I recall correctly, that hadn’t quite worked out last time.”

You return the smile, though it’s hidden. “My goals are not those of that failure, Sarevok.”

He clasps his hands behind his back, waiting for you to continue. 

“I’ve spent much of my life rebuilding what he destroyed,” you explain. “I will do anything necessary to ensure my family is safe. The cult is an easy rallying point for politicians who have nothing more to offer than an empty promise to eradicate us.” 

Your gaze flickers to his arms, looking for any movement, any sign of attack, but Gortash remains still. 

“Preying on the fear of civilians is an easy means of garnering support. They never have the opportunity, of course,” you add with a shrug. “I don’t tolerate threats.”

“Is this a preemptive strike, then?” he asks. “I’ve made no such promises to the city.”

“Quite the opposite, actually,” you say, playing with your blade between your fingers. “I come offering an alliance.”

In all your time watching the man, you’d never seen surprise cross his face until now.

“You’ve piqued my interest.” His arms return to his side. “To what end?”

“Success and survival.” Pushing off from the chair, you return to your feet and slip your weapon back into your belt. “I ensure you rise to power, you ensure my dearest devoted aren’t hunted.”

Gesturing toward you, he asks, “I assume you have more to offer than shallow words.”

“We can reach depths your Black Hand couldn’t fathom,” you answer. “We abound in the city’s shadows, stealing not only lives but secrets as well. I give the instruction, and that theft is directed at those who stand in your way.”

“I’ve never known Bhaalists to refrain from carnage long enough to find value in secrets,” Gortash replies, crossing his arms while the smirk remains in place.

“Rampant and thoughtless murder does nothing to keep my family safe,” you say, waving your hand as though the notion is obvious. “We can’t properly worship Bhaal if in prison or dead ourselves, and death at the hands of the guard is not one of worth.”

You begin to wander through the room, looking closer at his schematics as you speak.

“Our continued existence and efficiency rely on planning,” you explain as you lift one of his many papers. It depicts the inner workings of a very complex crossbow. “Planning requires knowledge, and what better knowledge is there than that no one was meant to learn?”

“A rather shrewd approach,” he says, his eyes following your every move. “I admit I’m impressed. But there is no give without take. What exactly do you expect from me?”

“A buffer,” you reply, “between us and the city. A distraction. Protection. You keep the ‘sword of justice’ pointed elsewhere, and you convince the masses there’s nothing to fear in the shadows.”

He runs his finger across his chin in thought. “Both of our lords would benefit greatly.”

You smile, noting the hooks sinking in. “Bane receives his coveted power.”

“And Bhaal his death,” Gortash adds. His hands return behind him as he looks off into nothing. “It’s an enticing offer. You’ve given me much to consider, and I’ll need time to think things through, as I’m sure you understand.” His gaze meets yours. “When I come to a decision, how will I find you?”

Your grin widens, though still hidden behind cloth. “I will come to you.”

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #durgetash #the dark urge #durge #gortash #enver gortash #gortash x durge #durge x gortash #baldur's gate #rhegan #fic: when death becomes devotion

[lockewrites]

Inbox me an item Gortash sends to Durge in an attempt to jog some memories, and I'll write the memory they evoke :3

They'll be written with my Durge, Rhegan, in mind, but they will be in 2nd person and most likely genderless, so any Durge can be imagined!

Inspired by this post!

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #durgetash #gortash #dark urge #the dark urge #durge #enver gortash #gortash x durge #durge x gortash #baldur's gate iii #bg3 spoilers #I'm in the middle of moving so I need some ideas to keep me company so I don't go insane in the meantime

[lockewrites]

Maybe she’s born with it, maybe it’s her dads fault.

#bg3 #musings: rhegan #rhegan

[lockewrites]

#bg3 #musings: rhegan #rhegan

[lockewrites]

I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I will kill to kiss you. I will kill to kiss you. I will kill to kiss you. I will kill to kiss you..I̵̛̛͇̰͔̳̟̦̩͐̒̒̏̄̚͘I will kill to kiss you. I will kill to kiss you. ̷͍̗̻̰̹̝́̓̑̍̀̏͆̏ẁ̵̻̱̤͇͍̱̅͐̍̅̅̀͘͘ḯ̵͍̰̹̲͍͎̹̯̓̐̿̓̆̄̈́͝ͅl̴͉̀͂̈́̃̄͌͒̽̚ļ̶̧̯̯̲͙̦̑̿̽̚͜ͅ ̸̯̟͆͆̓̑̂̊̚͜k̸̨͙͉̞̺̬̳̉͆̓̈̽͂̍͘͘̚i̷̯͎̯̇̽͐̈́̎͐̒̐̕l̸͎͐̚ĺ̵̺̥͖̥͒̔̋͗͌͒̍ ̵͚̙̗̑̂͊͗ͅt̶̛̹̤̳͛̒̌̔̂̿̅̽ǫ̴̲̘͈̰̺̝͌̐̾̕ ̴͔̥̘̝͖͇͓̦͉́̎̎̀k̶̡͓̥͍͓̝̙̊͛̈́͘i̵͙̩̺̮̦͖̖͍͛́s̴̡̹̳͎̠̗̞̭̞͐̅̍͝͝s̵̨̨̨̢̢̡͓̭̜͈̓̆ ̷̨̖͍̝͙͓̼̬̐͒̆̐̂̇̇͑̌͝y̷̨̺̞͕̦̦̔̄͂̍̿ŏ̸̖͊̀͋͆͆͝͝ṳ̴̡̡͔̝͖̰͆͜.̷̝̪̮̺͍̖͔̋̄̾̈́̎̇́̈͗̏ ̷͕̾̂́̀́̂̄̂̉͝I̴̮͒̑͂̑́̍́̀͋ ̶͚̲̩͈̝̩̓ẅ̵͉̯́i̵̧̤̱̺̮͚̖̒̒̓̐l̵̤̜͈̹̊͊͌͒̕l̵͔̺̘̼͎̤̠̞͙̯̓͑͂͂ ̸̺͎̦̲̩͕̟͂̃̽́̅̽̓k̴̗͎̖̯̹̈͐ḯ̶̧̙̥͈͚̰̪̥̀͒̓̇͛̊͆͝l̸͖̺̫̺̺̱͈̱͑̋̚l̶͕̓̑̚ ̶̦̼̰̈́͒͂͊t̷̡̥̟̤̭̳̉̋̂̂͐͂͠o̷̡̬̟̝̿̅̑̌̏̒͘ͅ ̵̢̹̹͚͍͆̔̿̆k̸̪̟̱̪̞͆̐́̊̀̉̍́̔͝ỉ̷̛̮̜̈́̆̿͌̾̕s̷̡̰͔̯̠͎̯̰̜̮̑͋̔̓̾s̷̟̜̒͑̀́͆ ̷̢̧̘̦̳̼̜̟͌͝y̵̟͐̽o̴̧̧͍̳͖̎̈͛u̷͓̍͋́͠.̷͎̖̺̙̫͐͋̈́ͅ ̸̢͖͙̺̹̫̊͌͒̉̚͝Ì̸̧̡̞͕̲͔̳͖̦̑̏̿̎͋̀ ̸̠̟̻̬͔́ẉ̷̣̲̼̒̽͛̄̓̑͆̽̚i̷̳̪̫̞͇̳͇͈͂̄̅̀̚̕͘͝l̷̤̗͎̽̾̽͝l̶͚̺̘̀͑̀̔̾̅͝ ̵͖̟͖͙̭̭͉̒̉̈̎͜͝ķ̶̛͓͚̱̠͎͕͋̈́͋͂i̵̳̜̭͖͗̉͒̓̐̉͂̆͘͝l̸͖͇͈͂̇́͌͂͝l̵̡̜̪̩̙̘̂͂̀̂̈́̏̈́̂ ̶̠̩͓̀̎͒̀͗̈̍̓̚ͅt̸̛́��͙̒̾͝o̵͙̞͔̤̲̮̅̇̐̍͌̃̅ ̸̨̘̈́̽́̄̒͂̄̒͂͝ķ̸̰̮̱̣͎̪̪̆͜ḭ̸̛̭̖͕̖̪̤͎̮͎̋š̸̛̩̰̦͕̰̿͒̈́̔̈́͘s̸̳̦̺̏̄̈̍ ̶͈͓͖̠̃̅y̸̛̥̙̝̍̽̈́̊̋̾́͑̍ͅͅͅơ̶̢̞̙͓͎̣̳̙͉̊͌̄͐̇ư̷͎̲̼̮̪̝̪͛͐.̸̣̲̳̼͎̪̳̩̭͂̇̾̀̈́̿͜͝ ̷̣̥̜̥͎͍̞̼̻̗͂̃͆̆͘͠I̶̭̅̓̒͐̇̇̓̑́͝ ̷͈͇̫͂̓̇̿̍̅͛w̴̧̦͑̐̽i̴̧͔̘͔̠̠̍̀́͘l̶̢̹̙͔̰̳̘̫̻̱̏́͛̀͠l̵̢̠̤̤̄͌̾̔̕ ̴͉̝̈́̎k̴̲̮̙̻̭͉̲̗̣̬̇̎̑͘͘i̴̪͕̙̪̻͚͔̊l̶̠̟͕͉̪̓̉̾̽̂͝͠l̴̳̲͝ ̴̨͍̜̘̤̈́͊͌͛̉̈͒̓t̸̩̤͎̖̲̔̑̔̑̈́͆̕̚o̶͍̖̺̦͔̿ ̷̨̨̭̠͙̠̗̟͕̯̎͗͐̃͠͝k̴̘͛i̶͓͍̭̻͙̮͍̞͗͗̋̏ş̷͕̟̹̯̊͑́͊͑̐s̵͕̰̓̆̅̑͂̽̕ͅ ̵̫̝̫̜̦̹̼͚̱͗͊̎̎̎͌̒̓̎y̴̧̲̥̱̺̅̂́͋̂̇̉͠ō̶̱̼͍͓u̵̬̥̔.̶̙͈̍̂̕͝ ̸̥͉͕̍͜I̵̫͙͇̘̞͗͊͆̑̒̒́̅̀͠ͅ ̸̝͖̜͚̻̞̣̟̘̂̈́̊̂̍̎͊̄̾ͅw̷̡̘̠̙͕̪̗͈̣̟̌̒i̶͔̱͎̔̑͆̄̎l̷͚̖̰͇̜̯̩̃̎͐͗̓̄͊̽͘l̷̼̳̑̚͜ ̸̨̼̘̣̫̜̀̈́͂͆k̵͔̀̂̽̅̑̎̏̂̉ȋ̸̱̺̟͆̆̇̂l̷̡̛̛̗͖͔̗͇͕͋̿́͊̋͛͘̕ḷ̸̑̽̈́̾̀͊͊̍̓ ̵̲̩͚̝͎̣͕͖͉̓̿t̸̡̂̀̂̌͑͠͠ŏ̵̤̗̭̺̟̍̌̽͂̆͛̇̕͝ ̴̬̭̈̽̎̐̏̽͐̈́̚k̶̛̹̣̦̞̞͒̈͑̔͌̆̀͜͝ì̷̪̗͙̯͛̔̀̈́̅̍͜s̷̟͎͉̖̗̲̮̣̋̄̈́̽͑̀̎̅̀s̵̹͕͇͕̥̘̥̳̭̻̈́̑̈͐̀̐̈̕͝͠ ̴͕̖̱̣̀͒y̷̦̹͖͊̌̓͒̚o̸͚̤̦̺̲̦̅u̶̧̮̲̤̻͚̪̣̞̇̑.̶̣͇̂̔̓͑̃̂̈́͆ ̶̨̢̰̭̪͚̣͎̩͙̾͌̄̆̽͋̓Ī̶̢̛̝͍̭̜͇̜͚̊͑͊̇̒̐̄̚ ̴̡̘́w̷̝̩̋̑̈́͋̊̐͛͜ỉ̵̧̗̼̗̪̱͙̮̙͑̑l̵̘̦̈́̐̇ḷ̵̟̒͑̄͌̕ ̷̧̩̰̞̬̥̮͈͒̇̀k̶̢̢̟̩͋́̏̈́i̵̢̝͍̐̄́̓̈́͋̑̕͜ļ̴͚͍̟̮̟̀ͅl̷̩͙̔͗͌͑̐ ̸̺̊͜t̵͍̅̒o̵̢͍̘̤̩͉̫̩͊͑͒͑̌̀̀͋̃͠ ̶̢̥̰̒̽̀̉̈̀͛k̵̪̈́͆̍̊͘͝ì̶̪͑͗͠s̷͙͉͂̏̍͋̑̚͜͝s̴̗̖͉̋́̇̇̑̕̚̕͝͝ ̸̣͙͙̆͂̓̈́̆ỳ̶̭͝o̴̮̪͍̲̣̠͙̫̮̗͊͐͂͛͗͋̈́̐u̷̟͔͂̈́̌͊͒̄̔.̷̟̀̂͌̉̌̀̕͝ ̴̡̰͈͖̪͓̹̲̽̀̇͜Ĩ̸̱̜̠̑̃͒́̍̚͝ ̷̰͉̜͍̭̱̟̫̀͌̃̓̾͗̓͝w̸͖̭̺̓̋̐͑̓̈̄͠ỉ̶̢͔̫̠̘̟̻͕̑̍͠͠͠ͅl̸̤̓̽̾̔̓́̆l̸̹̪͙͇͔̘̈́̕ ̸̨̜̙̖̝͚̪̅̑ͅk̶̞̊́̒͒͋̿͝i̶̧̢͇̙̫͚̭̥̲̼̒̀͐̎́̑̔l̶̯͔͖̫͔͐l̶̯̭͉̭̝͖͈͈̃̐̔̉̀̀͐͝ ̴̣̉͝͠ț̸̺̝̫̜̣̠̯̀̃́͘͜o̴̡̫͔̺̣̼͖̤̿͆ ̶̢̡̡̘̣̖̲͉̓̅̆̕͠ͅk̵̟̞̇̅̔̌̊́̔̈́͠͠i̸̩͎̠͚̲̮̇͗̌̌̈͋̓͘͜͝s̶͕͓̱̩͈͒̆̃̑͐͘͘͠ṣ̸̠̅́͐̄̓̕͝ ̸̝̻̯̦̲̼̻̓̓̓͛͒͜͝ỳ̴͚̗̻̤̲͆̀̏̌̾̉̌ͅo̷̘̯͇͂̈́̏u̴̡̩͖͖͎̦̒̒̔̋́̐͐͂͆͜.̴̙̮̥̗͈̻͈̞̗̦̐ ̴̧̮̹͍̾͝I̵͖̊̑͋͂̍̄̒̂̍ ̸̨͕̲̳̱̙̼̓̊͒̑̕̚͠w̶̻̦̮͇̿̔͋̊̄͊͆͝î̵̛̗̜͇̈̈́̎̀͒͊̚͠l̵̻̭̿̓l̷̡͚̞̬̄̒͋́̽̕ͅ ̷̡̛͍̼̜̝̄̎͛̓k̸̨̪̗̺̼̳͍͔̈́̂́̈̎͑ị̴͔̱̲͓͇͎̮̫͓̓́͑͐l̴̛͕̗̫̰̗̙̆͛̿̽̕ͅl̸̢̞̳̱̿ ̵̮̮̼̗̰͕̺͚̃̈͘̚ͅt̴̬̞̠̣̣̹̩̲͙̞̅̽̀̑̈́̄͒̆̚ǒ̸̩̔̽̉̕̚ ̶̛͖̫̜̰̜̥̣͕̍̽̐̔͑̇̓͝ͅk̸̳̫̩̆́̍̃ḭ̷̼̩̊̾͒͝͝s̴̻̠̻̙̜͙̐͐̎ͅs̸̡̗̖̾̈́ ̸͉̼̌̀̐́͝ỹ̸̝͚̣̗͉̰̦̜̤͂o̴̧̹͉͋͝ū̸͍̤͍̀͗̀̈́.̴̨̠͚͕͚̮̦̝̻̃͑̕

#bg3 #baldur's gate #musings: rhegan #gortash #rhegan

[lockewrites]

WIP Wednesday

Been working on a bit of a Durge fic :3

It's in 2nd person, but it's not a Reader insert - I loved the idea of feeling like the exposition was being read by Amelia Tyler as if in the game, and it's been so fun to write.

Anyways, here's Rhegan and a touch of Aurella (I'm throwing all my girls in the same universe)

His words spoken through one of his machines echo in your mind, and while they hadn’t yet asked, you know the question strangles the tongues of each of your companions. What was your role in all of this?  You fear the answer, the brief images of your past flitting across your mind hinting at something horrid. And having just learned of the nature of your birth—or perhaps ‘spawning’ was a more apt word—a child of Bhaal involved with the cult of the Absolute: such a combination could have nothing but the most vile of explanations.  “Greetings, my old friend. Orin told me you were on your way here, but I scarcely believed it. Welcome back to Baldur’s Gate.” His voice had been uncomfortably familiar. “Welcome home.” “Rhegan,” Aurella says, her voice low as she touches your arm. “As much as I’d love to see what you had planned for that knife, I don’t think the Flaming Fist would appreciate you playing with it quite literally behind their backs.” You hadn’t even realized, the blade slipping effortlessly between your fingers as you were lost in thought. Tucking it back in your belt, your fingers twist and pull on each other, popping knuckles and stretching the joints a touch too far, the slight pain an attempt to ground you.  Welcome home. Welcome home. Welcome home. 

#bg3 spoilers #wip

[lockewrites]

Susan Abulhawa, from Against the Loveless World: A Novel

[Text ID: “I wanted to be chosen, maybe loved. I wanted out of my life, out of my skin,”]

#aurella emberlin #musings: aurella

[lockewrites]

words by me

#rhegan #enver gortash #musings: rhegan

[lockewrites]

Finding the Grove.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate #tav #bg3 tav #aurella emberlin #serilda emberlin #seeing my twins interacting makes me squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee :3

[lockewrites]

Rhegan, The Dark Urge

A drop of his own gore.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #durge #the dark urge #dark urge #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate iii #baldur's gate #visage: rhegan #I updated her appearance :3 same head in use but changed up the hair and piercings and clothes and makeup #she actually has pupils now xD

[lockewrites]

Durge!Reader being comforted by Halsin

Reader (gender not specified) x Halsin || SFW-ish (slightly violent) || 2390 words AO3

From anon on Tumblr: I feel like theres a real lack of Halsin/durge fics, specifically him helping her after denying to kill, and I think you’d be amazing for this!!

SPOILERS FOR DURGE IN ACT II - wrote the scene Larian denied us with Halsin as our LI :3

You lie on your bedroll, the stars hidden behind the cloth of your tent, the air within suddenly feeling as though it’s not enough to breathe. Sitting up, a wave of nausea roils through you, bile eating away at the back of your throat; each breath in creates a ripple in your gut. You crawl out of your tent, desperate for the open air; your movements are slow as you push to your feet, fearing your stomach will empty itself.

This sensation is certainly not a stranger; you’ve felt it a number of times since waking from the illithid pod. 

The campfire has long since died, and with it is the absence of your companions, each lost in a trance or dreams. You’re grateful for the solitude; they’re aware of your… general situation, or at least as much of it as you know yourself, but they needn’t see you in such a state. 

Your eyes flicker to Halsin’s tent; the druid had quickly drawn your interest upon joining the party. It began solely as a physical attraction; the sheer size certainly was enticing, and his Wild Shape, that very nature spoke to the feral instincts inside you. But his gentle temperament despite the power he holds, both physical and arcane, is an enigma to you, and him extending that soft touch to you, someone who certainly does not deserve it… the interest had quickly shifted to something deeper. 

And for reasons you still couldn’t fathom, it’d been reciprocated. 

Without realizing, you find yourself having approached his tent, your hand reaching to open it. 

“He believes you’ve relieved the weight of his worries, returning him to himself.”

You spin to find a despicable creature standing behind you; decaying skin stretched taut over sharp bones, beady red eyes looking past you at Halsin’s tent. Sceleritas Fel. 

“Such delusions, to think you a savior. As though you aren’t the heaviest burden to wrap around his neck, until he breathes his last, losing himself forever.”

Your mouth pulls into a sneer, and you take a step to block his view.

“You could do so much better, Milady,” the butler says, shaking his head. 

“Back off, you rotten gremlin,” you hiss, your fists clenching. “You won’t touch him.”

He holds his hands up, unphased by your words. “I won’t lay so much as a talon on the elf.” His pointed teeth show in his malicious smile. “I wouldn’t rob you of that delight.”

A sharp pain beats through your head as you stare the creature down; the evidence apparent in your expression. 

“Your clever mind is penning tragedy as we speak,” he remarks, pointing at you. “Your repressed Urge yearns to kill.” His voice drips with something akin to desire. “And kill you will. Tonight, the moment you close your eyes, your favorite person will be brutalized.”

“But I love him.” Your words are quiet, yet they startle you, spilling from your lips of their accord. Are you surprised by the admission? So early in your journey? Or is it that you don’t know whether you’re truly capable of such a thing?

“We all kill what we love most, in time,” Sceleritas replies. “He is so beneath you; his very presence infects the air with a sickeningly sweet stench. His pure heart would be better served floating in a jar.”

With each utterance, bile crawls further and further up to your throat. 

“Halsin believes I’m stronger than this,” you mutter, more to yourself. “He won’t come to harm by my hand. I haven’t even yet told him how I feel.”

“Why not whisper it while you twist a knife?” He smirks. “Or have a love confession be the final words between you.” Sceleritas leans toward you. “It is my duty to ensure you are making the right decisions, Master. There was much disappointment at your reluctance to kill the little Moonmaiden.” 

Your glare sharpens, suspicion growing and nearly pulling a snarl from your chest.

“You could kill this one deliberately,” he explains. “I’m sure it will be considered a great show of goodwill. The tithe could still be yours.”

The pain stabs through your head again, forcing your eyes shut as you grimace. Your instinct gnaws at your mind, and your Urge claws and screams beneath your skin. 

Forcing your eyes open, you speak through clenched teeth. “Perhaps I sate the Urge by killing you.”

“Oh, my dear Lady.” He shakes his head and smiles. “It’s been many a time I’ve had the pleasure of experiencing your malice personally. But my death means little to your father and the Urge.”

The thought of his death at your hand would be satisfying, but you feel the honesty in his words; it would be far too shallow a victory to quiet the Urge.

“I won’t do it.” Your nails threaten to break the skin of your palms. “I will keep him safe. From you. And from me.” 

He tilts his head. “I do not doubt you will act with the decorum befitting one of your rank.” His head dips, giving a bow just as his body glows an eerie red. “Good night, sweet Lady.” 

His body disappears in a moment, leaving you alone with your back to Halsin’s tent. With a deep breath, you will your jaw and fists to relax; the lingering pain offering a bit of comfort as you wrack your mind on what to do. 

You turn, reaching up to open the flap of Halsin’s tent, leaving a dark spot where your fingers touch. A metallic tinge spills into your nose, and you look down to see your hands streaked with blood, spilling from half-moon wounds in the middle of your palm. Without thinking, you run your tongue across your skin, the taste sending a shiver down your spine as your breath wavers. 

Your movements freeze, the Urge rising in your chest, desperate to taste blood spilled from a body you crave.

“No,” you whisper to yourself, as though simply speaking would placate it. “Not Halsin.”

You dare to step through, finding Halsin lying on his bedroll, still deep in his trance, unaware of the looming threat to his life. Kneeling beside him, your bloodied hands hover above his throat; it would be so easy to spill his life with a simple slice of your dagger. 

“Stop,” you plead to yourself, to your hands. 

They move to his shoulders and give him a shake. “Halsin,” you utter, hoping to not wake the others. He doesn’t react. “Halsin!”

He wakes with a start, sitting up and gripping your arms in concern. “What’s wrong?”

Your lips part, but you struggle to find the words. 

Halsin’s hands move to your wrists, turning them to view your still-bleeding hands.

“Speak to me,” he pleads, looking at you with fear and concern, visible even in the dark.

“You’re in danger,” you breathe, not entirely confident your words are loud enough for him to hear. 

His brow furrows. “From what?”

“Me.”

His mouth opens, and you half-expect a lighthearted remark, but perhaps your severe gaze makes him hesitate. Halsin’s grasp slides to rest on either side of your face, his warmth filling you and quelling the nausea still tainting your stomach. 

“Whatever is going on,” he begins, his thumbs brushing away tears that you hadn’t known spilled, “we will get through it, but I need to know what’s happening.”

You blink, his image going in and out of focus. “I… My… My mind isn’t my own,” you cry.

Each word given steals more and more of your energy, leaving your body on the cusp of failing; your vision grows tunneled and red as a headache splits through your skull, the pain unlike anything you’ve experienced before. 

You feel the last of your consciousness slipping, but you must get out what has your heart in a vice grip. You slip from Halsin’s touch, stumbling backward against the tent’s flaps.

“It wants to kill you, and I… I don’t know what to do. I can’t lose you.”

He leans toward you. “You won’t lose me,” Halsin promises. “Our time together has only begun.” He interrupts himself with a heavy sigh. “You’ve shared a touch of your troubles with me, but this is far beyond anything you’ve said. To hold such a burden alone will destroy you. You could have confided in me.”

“I’m…” Even with the absence of any of your strength, you somehow draw further back; your vision becomes nothing more than a blur, the world spinning beneath you, and your throat burns with bile. “I’m sor—” You collapse into the dirt. 

Whatever time that’s passed is lost to you, waking near the dead campfire with your hands bound behind your back and any semblance of control over your Urge gone. Your body thrashes, your wrists twisting and pulling against the rope, its flesh tearing into your own. 

“Calm yourself,” Halsin orders, his voice sounding authoritative, as if speaking to one of his druids. “My magic cannot penetrate what plagues you. You, your will, will conquer this.”

Your mouth tastes of iron; vile desires gather on your tongue, the Urge itself commanding your body. You try to focus on Halsin, your eyes pleading that he sees you’re trying, even if not successful.

“I know you are still in there.” 

His words are soft, sweet… they sicken the Urge. 

You lurch forward, your teeth seeking to clamp down on any piece of Halsin, wanting to tear the meat from his bones, devouring him raw. 

He doesn’t flinch, but his jaw sets. “I’ve handled the most feral of animals. Your fangs are no threat to me.”

The response sends the Urge over the edge, your limbs pulling with all of your strength, no regard given for any injuries caused by their own actions. The rope breaks through your raw skin, blood soaking the binds.

“Easy, my heart,” Halsin says. “Your strength is greater than this curse, and I will grant you my own alongside. You will not suffer this alone.”

You hold his promise in your chest, hoping it blooms bright enough to allow you to express your gratitude. You try to speak, but all that escapes is a harsh growl that tears through your throat.

“A growl means little from a trapped beast,” he remarks. “But you can escape this. I will see you free of this affliction.”

Tears that feel like acid fill your eyes, and you can’t tell whether it’s frustration and anger from the Urge or fear and dread from you. Your body is beaten inside and out, exhaustion’s hands wrapped around your throat. Still, it fights against your bindings, even as your consciousness slips back into the dark. 

“Let your mind rest,” he says. “Your body will soon follow.”

Again, you don’t know how long you’re out, but at some point, you come to. You feel sticky, your clothes clinging to your sweat-slicked skin; your head still pounds, and your stomach still turns, but your mind is once again your own. As your vision clears, you let out a sigh of relief; Halsin remains in front of you, mercifully unharmed.

His gaze holds yours, searching for you. And he finds you. 

Rising to his feet, he steps behind you and cuts your binds; your freed arms settle in your lap, the muscles screaming, and your wrists and hands caked in dried blood. Tentative, you flex your fingers, the maroon stain cracking and falling from your skin.

Halsin returns in front of you and sits back down. His expression is relieved, but as the seconds pass, it shifts to something far more serious. 

“I am overjoyed to have you back,” he begins, “but we need to discuss what happened.”

Your head drops, shame filling you. With a deep breath, you let everything out: divulging the severity of your Dark Urge, how often it haunts your thoughts and dreams, the little creature that calls himself your butler, your mysterious father you’re supposed to please.

Those hazel eyes are hard, his brows pinched; Halsin is deep in his thoughts, sifting through the heavy truth you’ve just shared. And all you can do is sit and wait, anxiety boiling within as you await his response. Will he claim you too dangerous to live? An unnatural being, something that disrupts the world’s balance? Perhaps simply cast you out, banish you from the camp as he’s unable to bring himself to end you? 

Your hands are suddenly gifted his warmth, his own gently caressing yours. He dips a rag in a bowl of water beside him and begins cleaning your wounds, his touch impossibly gentle.

“In all my years, I’ve not come across anything quite like this,” he finally speaks. “But I stand by my words. You will not lose me. And I will not let you lose yourself to this Urge.”

He puts the rag aside and casts a healing spell; the golden glow fills the space between you, and the torn skin pulls back together. Your wrists still ache, still feel some remnant of the deep injuries, but it’s barely more than a pinprick to you. 

His hands remain on yours, but you feel disgusted and have to fight the temptation to pull away. You should be left to rot, ended now to protect everyone around, to protect him.

“I’m a monster,” you mutter, unable to meet his gaze. “I’ve taken countless lives. I don’t even know the depth of my crimes. I’m an abomination now, and I know… I just know I was fully embracing this Dark Urge before I lost my memories.” Your throat feels as though it’s being stabbed. “You should end me.”

Your head is guided up, his thumb under your chin and forcing you to look at him.

“The Urge is a monster,” he argues. “You, the person you are now, is utterly incredible. And having learned just how hard a battle you face with this evil, I am in awe.”

The tears fall from your cheeks, and while you still don’t believe you deserve a single utterance he’s given, you’re grateful beyond what words could express.

Halsin wipes them away, and his hands remain along your jaw. 

“We will free you from this abomination,” he swears, “and your mind, your heart, your soul, will be entirely yours. And you will see just how extraordinary you are.”

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #halsin #baldur's gate iii #durge #halsin x reader #reader x halsin #durge x halsin #halsin x durge #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate #fic: treasures the night bestows

[lockewrites]

I feel like theres a real lack of Halsin/durge fics, specifically him helping her after denying to kill, and I think you’d be amazing for this!!

FINALLY WROTE THIS. Wound up being waaaay longer than I expected. I went in what was probably an unexpected direction, but I hope you enjoy it! It'll be posted here tomorrow, and it's already up on AO3!

[lockewrites]

Wanted to give an update: I'm working on that Durge x Halsin request I got :3

[lockewrites]

I'm going out of town for a bit and won't have access to my gaming PC, so if anyone wants to send me some requests or prompts to work on, I'd greatly appreciate it!!

I'm only accepting Reader!Tav x Halsin or Serilda x Halsin at the moment. Reader will be Tav by default (unnamed but acting as Tav's role in the story), female or genderless, and the class will be kept vague.

#halsin #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #halsin bg3 #halsin x reader #halsin x tav

[lockewrites]

Reader working on a spell with Halsin

Reader (gender not specified) x Halsin || SFW || 1910 words AO3

From anon on Tumblr: I looove your work 😍 I was wondering whether you could write something with Halsin and a druid apprentice reader. Maybe where the reader gets frustrated that they can’t seem to get a spell right and he shows them very hands on? 👀

You’d seen Halsin cast it numerous times, usually to calm or entertain one of the children, and it always brought a smile to your face. Such simplicity, or so it seemed, yet here you sit in the grass, hunched over with a flower in pre-bloom between your fingers, refusing to open at your command. 

“In flore,” you whisper, trying so hard to keep the frustration from seeping into your spell casting, and the result is exactly what you expect. 

A glimmer of magic ebbs from your fingertips and surrounds the blossom before disappearing entirely, the flower just as hidden behind green as it was before.

The bashful flower falls into the grass and you drop your hands into your lap, defeated. You’ve tried casting the spell in as many ways as you could think: one hand grasping the stem, the other guiding the magic; both hands holding it and letting the magic spill free; enunciating very purposefully; whispering and letting your tongue move with fluidity; combining all of the methods you know to cast spells, and still this damned flower refuses to bloom for you.

Asking Halsin is an option, but to ask for help with something so mundane with all the chaos going on felt absolutely silly. 

With a deep sigh and a shake of your hands, as if to be rid of your failed castings from your fingertips, you steel your mind to try again. The flower remains between the blades of grass, and your hands hover just over it as you speak.

“In flore.” 

Again, iridescent whorls spill from your fingers, wrapping around the flower and lifting it just a touch into the air. It wobbles as your magic attempts to penetrate the bud, but just as before, it begins to wane.

“In flore!” you hiss, unwilling to let the magic die. 

It grows brighter for a moment, but only a moment.

“In flore!” 

Your voice is nearing a shout, and your magic surges, tearing through the green coverings and into the petals; the flower you desperately sought to free falls to the ground in colorful shreds. 

“Dammit!”

“Is everything all right?”

You whip your head around and find Halsin approaching with concern in his gaze. With his size, you're forced to crane your neck the closer he gets until he mercifully kneels beside you. His eyes fall on the pathetic-looking flower before returning to yours. 

“I was just…” Your lips press together as you look down at your failure and blush. “I was trying a spell and not having much success.”

His brow furrows a moment before softening as he settles on the ground in front of you, the dead flower lying between you. 

“What were you trying to cast?”

Your gaze flickers between the flower and him, and you let out a resigned sigh. “It’s silly,” you say. “I… was trying to make the flower bloom. Like I’ve seen you do.”

Halsin smiles. “Would you like some help?” he offers.

He holds his hand out toward you, and in a moment, a stemless bud appears in his palm. His other hand hovers over it, and in a soft voice he speaks, “In flore.” 

The green sepals slowly open, revealing layers and layers of blood-red petals. 

“Show off,” you tease.

With a chuckle, his hand waves over his other, and the flower disappears behind green once again. Holding it out toward you, he places it delicately in your palm. 

“Let me see,” he instructs. 

You release a sigh, your shoulders slumping in preeminent defeat as you know exactly how this demonstration will end; it was frustrating enough failing alone, but now to do so in front of Halsin…

The bud remains closed in your hand, waiting patiently for you, just the same as the druid. After a few moments of staring at it, you raise your other hand to hover just over it, mimicking the movements Halsin performed.

“In flore.” 

Your voice is soft but firm, and in a moment, iridescence spills from your fingers once more, wrapping around the bud and disappearing under the sepals. It begins to rise, the magic lifting the hidden flower and spinning ever-slowly. Your chest lightens, a breath of hope filling you. 

Your eyes dare a glance at Halsin and find him staring at you, rather than the spell between your fingers. Heat pools in your cheeks, and you drop your gaze back down to your hands.

Suddenly, the shimmering tendrils escape the flower and constrict around its fragile greenery, leaving nothing more than a pitiful lump in your hand. 

An irritated breath forces through your nose as your hands fall back into your lap. 

“You’re casting the magic well,” Halsin explains, drawing your attention away from the flower, “but you must also reach out to nature itself.”

You must give him a look that earns you a warm chuckle. He reaches out, his fingertips grazing your palm as he takes the bud from you.

“Let’s ignore the flower for now,” he suggests, placing it on the ground beside him. “Close your eyes.”

You do as he asks, letting him guide you without hesitation. 

“Allow your breaths to grow deep and steady,” Halsin continues, his voice quiet and soothing. “In and out.”

“This feels like guided meditation,” you remark, opening your eyes to glance at him.

His fingers brush over your eyelids, prompting them back shut and giving you a lungful of his forest-like scent. His touch leaves your skin tingling, even as fleeting as it was. 

“Sorry,” you mutter, trying to ignore that your face is on fire. 

“In and out,” he repeats. “Feel the wind filling your chest. The very breath of nature accompanying yours.”

It doesn’t quite come naturally to you, focusing on little more than your breath and the wind. You shift your mind to his instructions: ‘In and out.’ His voice, like warm velvet, wraps around your thoughts, and you breathe in time to his words. 

With each inhale, his words become like whispers, and you no longer hear them within but as if carried in the air. They pull through your senses and spread to your limbs.

“Good,” Halsin says. “Now, listen to nature’s heartbeat. The rustle of leaves, the shifting of blades of grass, the calls of wildlife, the harmony of creation existing together.”

Your breath continues steadily as you push your focus outward, seeking out the melodies Halsin spoke of. The wind picks up a bit, rushing past your ears and blocking any minute sounds you’d otherwise hear.

A finger crooks under your chin, guiding your head up; you hadn’t noticed you tucked in toward your chest in your attempt to listen.

“Relax your face,” he instructs. 

His fingers slide down your neck, and you suppress a shiver; his hand stops just under your collarbone, resting against your sternum, and you're sure he can feel your increasing heartbeat. 

“Focus on your heartbeat,” Halsin says. “Nature’s own will find you.”

He removes his hand, and you immediately miss its heat, but you try to ignore the longing and heed his instruction.

He’s certainly aided in making your heartbeat easier to listen to; it pounds, not quite in your ears, but you feel it heavy in your chest. You focus on its steady — and slightly rapid — pumping: th-thump. th-thump. th-thump. 

Some time passes in silence, nothing but your heartbeat; you’re about to speak up, tell Halsin this isn’t working, when you hear the faintest rustle. The wind has stopped, you hadn’t noticed when, yet the rustling grows louder and falls in time with your heart rate. More sounds join in, as though new instruments are being added one at a time to a composition; a bird’s song, trees creaking, a squirrel’s chitter, and… and another steady beat. 

“Excellent.” Halsin’s voice somehow sounds as distant as the birdsong and as close as a whisper in your ear. “You’re breathing it in, hearing it. Now, feel it.”

Your brow quirks.

“Feel nature’s caress against your skin,” he explains. “Feel its heartbeat within your own. Inside and out.”

You return your mind to the symphony of the world surrounding the both of you, inviting it to wrap itself around you. The wind, though nearly still, brushes across your face and arms with the barest touch; it slips through your lips and wraps around your tongue, offering a hint of pine and herbs. You swallow the taste, feeling it settle in your stomach and overflow into your chest, joining your heartbeat with its own. 

The entirety of your body is synchronized with nature’s breath and heart; you’ve never felt quite so… whole. 

A new pulse joins the rhythm; its origin feeling far closer than the ethereal sensations you’re sure are from the spirit of nature itself. Warmth engulfs your hand and guides it forward until it’s flat against Halsin’s chest; his heat seeps through his tunic into your palm. 

“You feel it,” he remarks. His hand remains atop yours. “We are all connected. Existing within nature, nature existing within us, our own beings existing with one another.”

After some moments of simply existing together, he speaks again. “Open your eyes.”

You find him watching you with a proud grin, and you can’t help but return it. 

He releases you and conjures a fresh bud, dropping it into your hand before cupping yours with his. The other hovers, just as it had before, and he casts the spell once again. 

“In flore.” His words are accompanied by faint whispers that were hidden from you before; they seem to ebb from the magic itself, or perhaps are simply drawn to the magic, following it as it disappears into the flower. A moment later, it blooms, this time into a purple peony. 

“What was that?” you ask, a bit in awe. “I heard something when you cast the spell.”

“Nature,” he replies, smiling, his pride seeping into the crinkles of his eyes. “This type of magic requires nature to be an active participant. It’s only successful when the caster and nature exist in harmony.”

“It’s amazing,” you reply, still looking at the flower. Such a simple spell, yet it needs such an understanding of the ways of the druids; you had taken Halsin’s ease of casting it for granted, it seems. 

“Would you like to try again?” 

Halsin watches you expectantly, and you can’t bring yourself to deny him, even now knowing how daunting a task opening a flower truly is.

“Sure,” you reply, giving a shy smile. 

With a single wave of his hand, the flower closes.

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes and trying to recall all of what Halsin walked you through; it doesn’t feel quite as strong as when he guided you, even with his touch still on your hand, but you manage to reclaim some semblance. 

“In flore.” 

Your magic flows forward into the flower bud, but there are no whispers in response, and you can’t help the disappointment that settles within you. Before the spell can destroy this flower, you release it with a frown.

“This was not a failure,” Halsin assures, giving you a gentle squeeze. 

“It certainly looks like one,” you remark with a sheepish chuckle.

“You were able to embrace the spirit of nature,” he counters. “That’s not an easy feat for those who haven’t dedicated their life to such things.”

“Well,” you reply with a blush and a smile, “I had quite the guide. This was… enlightening. Thank you.”

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #halsin #baldur's gate iii #baldur's gate #halsin x tav #halsin x reader #reader x halsin #tav x halsin #alxxiis actually wrote something #fic: treasures the night bestows #does my verbal component make sense? probably not. but goddammit I had to use SOMETHING #also Druidcraft DOES serve a purpose: fanfics.

[lockewrites]

I looove your work 😍 I was wondering whether you could write something with Halsin and a druid apprentice reader. Maybe where the reader gets frustrated that they can’t seem to get a spell right and he shows them very hands on? 👀

This is all written up! Will be posted here tomorrow - has already been posted on AO3 :3