mightymizora

[mightymizora]

has this been done before or

#ha remember this #my true gift to the fandom

[mightymizora]

#other! #she’s a composer whose works are known widely #splits her time between being an academic and an adventurer

[mightymizora]

IF YOU'RE TIRED OF HOUSE CATS YOU SHOULD PET A WILD LION!

[mightymizora]

Listen, the greatest greatest compliment I could ever want to read is that it sparked something in your own creative journey! I literally could not be more pleased! Thank you so so much ;_;

Fan Work Friday

I was very generously rec'd by @rowanisawriter (in both senses of the word, what a glowing recommendation!), so I wanted to pay it forward and rec some fanworks as well. I'm not certain who's been tagged yet and who hasn't, but if you have some fanworks you want to shout out, consider this your sign. Go forth and spread the joy!

Fanart:

This piece by @weenwem, I mean, my god, it's firing on all cylinders. The lighting, posing, composition, and brushwork. It's like a romantic era painting, it's so masterfully composed with such clear storytelling of a moment we don't often see in canon (the first meeting between Ketheric Thorm and Minthara). Just. I adore it, go give it some love if you haven't yet.

Fanfic: The Portrait by MightyMizora/HardingHightown ( @mightymizora)

I would like to credit this piece for knocking me out of the writing slump I'd been in for the past few years. My brain felt like it was on fire after reading this, I could not stop thinking about it for the rest of evening. It's such a brilliant snapshot of the relationship between Gortash and the Dark Urge from an outsider's perspective, as well as insight on how Gortash operates as a political player in Baldur's Gate. I want to say more, but I don't want to spoil the experience for anyone who has not read it yet. Heed the warnings, but please give it read.

#!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #this made my absolute fucking day!!!! #thank you so much and thank you especially for the beautiful write up #this piece was so special because it was just something that was from a place of passion #I wanted so much to write an outsider story and thought hey this may have no audience #so to still read things like this?? #so special to me

[mightymizora]

💌 hellooo

What can I even say! Best Fandom Pal, you are such a smart, empathetic person, and an excellent writer, and just an all round top notch human being across the board. I am so pleased to call you friend <3

[mightymizora]

💌

Buddy! Pal! You are SUCH a talent, you have such an eye for details and inference, your writing AND art are both insane (very rude to be so good at both) and on top of that you have been such a delight to get to know over our Gortash illness. <3

[mightymizora]

💌!!

Our neural pathways are linked forever. There's not a thought you've had that I've not been inspired and enchanted by, your taste levels are incredible, and I am so excited for literally all of our interactions!

[mightymizora]

💌

Finally at my desk to do this!

Rowan, bestie, your writing is INSANE, the quality is so consistent and your ideas are incredible and on top of that, you are just so FUNNY and such a delight to be around? Truly reconnecting with you in this fandom has been such a highlight, a true talent and a true pal!

[mightymizora]

Ketheric Thorm from Baldur's Gate 3? 👀

#smash into the fucking dirt

[mightymizora]

"I could kill you like this." Her voice is tender, her touch still mercifully gentle as her thumbs stroke at his temples. He leans his head back against her shoulder as her thighs grip his body and her legs pin his own thighs open. Her breath is hot against his shoulder as her lips hover close to his skin. She bites at his flesh softly and he can’t help but gasp. He should stop her. He won’t.

A commission by the lovely @mightymizora of her Dark Urge, Manva Warhelm, and Enver Gortash.

If you'd like to see more of Manva, please check out A Jeweled and Bloody Hand over on AO3!

If you'd like to commission me, head over to my commission page for prices!

#thinking things #bg3 #enver gortash #the dark urge #durgetash #manva warhelm #cw asphixiation #cw choking

[mightymizora]

[mightymizora]

The sick reality is that many of the renowned academics and writers among Gaza's thousands of martyrs will, in twenty years time, be quoted and memorialised by the same universities and institutions that have denigrated them and enabled their slaughter.

#Palestine #I think about this every fucking day

[mightymizora]

But she will live

For the first time

#her! #bg3 #orin the red

[mightymizora]

You are not supposed to make someone else's suffering all about yourself. That is one of the essential rules of being a Normal, Non-Broken, Non-Evil Person that Mariposa has been painstakingly teaching herself. Yet she cannot help it. As they return to camp, the imprint of Tiefling spikes and ridges still fresh on Shadowheart's skin where they pressed against each other in an embrace, Mariposa mulls over their respective names. And the dead girls they belong to.

Because Mariposa is, of course, also a dead girl's name. A gentle whisper of butterfly wings on the smiling lips of otherwise featureless foster parents, whom she only remembers as raw flesh. As dripping entrails stretched across their little kitchen. As the sequelch of blood that seeped through her silk-ribbon shoes and made her little lace socks wet.

She was not supposed to claim what is not hers. The only reason she started calling herself that — Mariposa, dark wings unfurling from a shattered pod; a hungry butterfly clinging to mangled carrion, mistaking the sweet ooze of dead blood for life-giving nectar — is because the name had suddenly resurfaced in her jumbled mind when she woke up on that ravaged beach. Orin's blade had stirred the murk in her skull, and the long-buried dregs had floated up. They should have stayed dregs; a blurred trace of someone who is even less her than Jenevelle is Shadowheart.

But she is hesitant to shed that name. To let the butterfly fly away. It is still there, nestled on the knuckles of Wyll's hand, extended with an elegant flourish — and not even the slightest tremor of hesitation, fear, or disgust — as he expects her to dance with him. And when he calls her by her stolen name, those dark wings turn to gold.

#oh hey this really got to me #the dark urge #Shadowheart

[mightymizora]

whom the gods would destroy

Gale/Shadowheart, rated E

read here @ ao3

“Do you like it?” She hums. “It’s breathtaking,” she says, and he feels the flush of his pride again. With a small, dry smile, she adds, “I don’t know if I should approve.” “Oh, the curse is still present, of course—just veiled, and at arm’s length. I hope your lady will forbear my meddling this once. It’s not a trick I can repeat often.” After all, he won’t have the chance.

If he's going to leave the woman he loves with no more than a memory, Gale wants it to be perfect. If she's going to fail her goddess for a man, Shadowheart will take whatever comfort she can get.

(For the GaleHeart First Times collection, my take on Gale's act 2 romance scene, and the very early morning after.)

#this is so so so gorgeous #fic rec

[mightymizora]

Monster, mine

There is a beast haunting the city, and there is a tentative reaching of hands across the table. 7k, The Dark Urge/Enver Gortash, CW violence, sexual content, mentions of slavery

From The Histories of the Bhaalian Temple, attrib. Korimand Grey

There are many forms of Bhaal, and all of them inspire dread, from the shape-shifting unknowable to the giant form of the ravaging vengeance, but his greatest gift and greatest curse is that which he grants to his most esteemed and loved, for that is the form of true death itself.

____

There is a beast haunting the city. It is not the first; indeed there have been many creatures that have been subject to this rumour spreading across the fishwives and the sailors through the common folk to the gentry. The Beast of Rivington Hill was merely a shifted Druid, the simple folk of the small town too sheltered to know the difference. Others were sea creatures disturbed from their nest that required simply the right huntsman, or conjured devilkin escaped through portals direct to the hells (he knew them well) or other such monsters brought to this plane by magic. This beast, however, is truly something special.

It has been over a decade since a Slayer has burst through the flesh of a man within the walls of Baldur’s Gate on Returning Day. He was not a direct witness to it sadly, but the panic it wrought held a special place in his heart, tearing open a gash in the side of the Patriars that he could stick his fingers into with ease. It marked the moment of ascent from mere man of the city to something more, the moment of change, of power granted to him via the mantle of Lord, and now it had returned, well. He was not perhaps a superstitious man, but it feels like a promising omen.

The Slayer is a form holy to Bhaal, this much he knows. It is documented in the downfall of Jon Irenicus over a century prior, in texts imported from Amn into the great libraries of the city. He had sought to steal its form, to claim its power for his own, and there are notes on his work, on his methods, that he has annotated as part of his studies for years. It is not so dissimilar, not so removed from the documents he has sifted through at Moonrise, or the book that was sent to him with regards from Balthazar.

That is to say, there is great promise in the form of a tame monster.

Read it on Ao3

#hey guys I uh #I was thinking about this one again #durgetash

[mightymizora]

My 💜

#bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep