#I still only know that Halsin calls his SO his heart I am going to uselessly hang from his neck in protest over this

[midnightwind]

I feel like I'm 10 seconds and one bad day of insomnia from shot gunning every single Origin run of BG3 just to write down all the pet names the characters use for each other so I can stop losing my mind while writing

#I know Astarion doesn't use pet names so much as calls people catty names until he's in too deep #I don't see Shadowheart or Lae'zel as someone who uses pet names except for like maybe their SO? will have to be more gay for this one #I still only know that Halsin calls his SO his heart I am going to uselessly hang from his neck in protest over this #you gotta have pet names for people sir you're too sweet not to #does Wyll like ever not use a person's name?? I feel like his noble upbringing ruined him for such otherwise #Gale is just the dude who only uses “my friend” and other iterations isn't he #he's so milquetoast (affectionate) #and Karlach /has/ to have a million right?? but I only know Tav's (soldier) and Astarion's (Fangs) #it's almost 7am and going insane and google is useless here #also sorry Minthara you seem really cool and complex but I cannot hurt the tieflings #you are my white whale companion #this has been brought to you by me having Karlach call Halsin Papa Bear because I've lost control of this fic

[autistichalsin]

My case for Halsin x Art Cullagh as a ship

First of all, these are two characters with a LOT in common. Both are intimately tied to the Shadow Curse. Both lost everything because of it: Halsin lost his homeland and Thaniel, while Art lost (temporarily) his sanity and would eventually lose his life to it.

Both care very deeply for Thaniel (and, later, Oliver). Thaniel was Halsin's first friend, who "made (Halsin) who (he) is today", while Thaniel helped Art in the Shadowfell. Thaniel played with both of them. Both of them felt protective- one might say paternal- towards Thaniel. Art tells the player that Thaniel is a sweet soul- too sweet for the Shadowfell- and he can't wait for the player to meet him.

Both are kind, gentle souls with a strong sense of justice and a call to do right in the world- Halsin by fighting against threats like the Shadow Curse and the Absolute, Art by being a Flaming Fist.

The link through Thaniel is strong (and not just in the "Thaniel has two daddies" sense). Thaniel tells Art about Halsin; Art repeatedly says that Thaniel told him that only Halsin can save him, that Thaniel "spoke of little else".

After being comatose for who knows how long, when Art startles awake and calls out for Thaniel, the first person he sees- and the first person to speak to him- is Halsin. Halsin, who instantly kneels to softly, kindly tell him to relax and breathe- a heartwarming way to be introduced to someone (and indeed, the devnotes say, "warm. Good bedside manner.") As soon as Halsin mentions that he too wants to help Thaniel, Art recognizes him, saying in shock (perhaps amazement?) "You're... you're Halsin," before repeating his request that Halsin find Thaniel. Which Halsin instantly agrees to, but repeats that he needs Art's help, and Art gives it.

When the curse is lifted, Halsin tells the player how sad he is to be leaving Thaniel's realm, how he hopes Thaniel and Oliver will stay as a pair because then they can have a friend after he's gone... clearly missing them, but knowing he has a greater mission in stopping the Absolute. What does Art say if you talk to him in the act 2 epilogue? That he feels Thaniel should have someone with him when he wakes, so he's staying. One might even argue that Art staying is the reason Halsin felt so comfortable leaving- sad, yes, but not worried. He knew Thaniel and Oliver were in good hands with Art. He trusted the two halves of his best friend to Art.

Art knows, tragically, that he's going to die soon after. He mentions it to the player, and in the epilouge, he sends this note to the player:

To an old acquaintance, I write to you from the sunny porch of the Last Light Inn. A light breeze blows now and then. People are milling in and out - builders, visitors, the children of all ages in Halsin's care. I can no longer hold a quill, or eat without assistance - a kind friend is transcribing this for me. Thaniel, re-joined with Oliver, has promised to be with me when the end comes, and as our old songs drift on the wind, ever louder, I know I have mere days left. But I do not fear it. If not for your help, this land would still be shrouded in darkness, and I'd still be lost within it. Know that my heart is full and happy, and I am grateful for my last moments. Do visit some day. And if you have time to stop by an old Flaming Fist's grave, I know I'd love to see you. Art Cullagh

Halsin and Art are still in contact. Art lived long enough to get to see Reithwin being reconstructed- by Halsin. Halsin lifted his shadow, Thaniel and Oliver's shadow, and brought Art peace during his last days- including the peace of having his close friends with him as the end comes. And presumably, Halsin himself stays- it's hard to imagine that Halsin, of all people, wouldn't.

They just work really well as a tragic ship, brought together by loss and heartbreak.

Fittingly, that extends into scenarios when one of them dies. If Halsin dies before act 2, or dies when the portal collapses, and the player tells Art this, he is heartbroken- while he frames it primarily in terms of being sad the curse can never be broken now, he must also be sad that Thaniel's friend has been lost, too.

And if Art dies (either because Last Light fell or for some other reason) and the player learns what they need from Art's corpse? Well.... let's just say that Halsin has some VERY strong things to say for someone he barely knows.

Halsin: That is what I needed to know. It should be cause for joy, but... that poor man didn't have to die.

Player: His existence was worse than death. Now he's at peace, and we have what we need.

Halsin: True. But are we still deserving? Only time and nature can tell.

To think that he might not be worthy any longer of breaking the Shadow Curse because a man he barely knows died is.... quite an intense emotion. Almost illogical, and Halsin is an extremely reasonable person. Make of that what you will.

Alternatively:

Player: There was no other way.

Halsin: You can claim it so... but I don't think it will ever be true. Oak Father willing, we will soon lift the curse from this place. But I suspect a shadow will linger here, because of what was done to that man.

Again... these are VERY intense emotions. Understandably so, of course- Art was clearly Thaniel's friend, and he suffered so much only to die. But if Last Light falls, MANY people die besides Art, yet Halsin is focused on him- the only other person he mentions with quite this much grief is Isobel, and even she doesn't get a mention from him here. "A shadow will linger here, because of what was done to that man"? Not "what was done to those people" or even "what was done to Art and the others"? It is.... a very interesting way of phrasing it.

In conclusion: Halsin cares Art A LOT, Art deserves peace and happiness, and Thaniel and Oliver deserve two daddies. Flaming Bear is the ultimate tragic doomed ship and we are sleeping on this ship

#halsin #halsin silverbough #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #art cullagh #thaniel #thaniel and oliver

[dailygale]

Heyo

It's so good to see a Gale blog 💜 I am so done with the slander going the poor man's way for no reason...

We know Astarion has Darling and My Treasure, Halsin goes with My Heart

I'm here with a question, as a fic writer I can’t decide how Gale would call his significant other. Sweetheart, Honey and Love just sounds so weird for some reason even tho I know he is romantic. I am only in Act 2 with him, so I don’t know if there is anything about that in Act 3... I romaced him with a female Wood Elf, so mainly I'm looking for female examples but all is welcome cause I might not be the only one wondering (English is not my first language so apologies for any typos)

I firmly believe Wyll would just go with My Love cause he is the absolute Knight in Shining Armor 💜😭

Gale deserves so much love, and I intend to give it to him or die trying 😤

So I've been wracking my brain trying to remember any terms of endearment Gale uses. In act 3 when you further his romance he does greet you with "Yes, my love?" so that's certainly one but I can't seem to recall him using any others.

I do think he's a classic romantic though and very much loves love and so would use more classic lovey terms as well. Nothing so flamboyantly sweet as, say, Astarion might use but still in that area. So like maybe Dear, Beloved, maybe even Love of my Life if he's feeling dramatic (which he often is let's be honest).

I hope that helps a little xD I guess I didn't offer much. If anyone else has other thoughts they'd be very helpful.

#asks #anon ask #bg3 #gale dekarios #baldur's gate 3 gale #bg3 gale #gale of waterdeep #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate

[fondofcowboys]

here's my very all over the place feelings on certain aspects of baldur's gate 3 as a romani immigrant. warnings for spoilers of course. mind you i have not finished the game yet!

1. i really can't believe there aren't more people talking about the very blatant racism in astarion's questline. im quite sure it's because the game already touches on it, even giving you the choice to call astarion a racist, and also because everytime we roma talk about anything that makes us uncomfortable we're immediately shunned and "well actually!"'d.

the problem is that it feels Extra icky because the man who was the inspiration for the original dracula, Vlad the Impaler, kept romani slaves. this is the ONLY part of vampire history that, no matter how different the media, will always stay relevant for some reason.

castlevania has the seekers, a nomadic group of magic users who pass their history down orally. while they are *mostly* treated well, the first arc of the show literally shows them being hunted out of town for the simple act of existing.

vampire the masquerade... well.. that's an entire other can of racism worms.

curse of strahd has the "vistani", a nomadic group of people who are treated like third class citizens everywhere they go, and are of course, most known for being tarot readers and drunkards.

the vampire diaries have the "travellers", who get called "gypsies" explicitly as a derogatory word by other vampires.

i want you to take any vampire media you enjoy and ask yourself, "is there anti-roma racism in this?". i guarantee you, if you look for it, you're going to find it. for SOME reason, the only thing that stays consistent with all these different vampire IPs, is that romani people are hated and scrutinized at every moment of their lives.

i MORE than understand that astarion's racial insensitivity is part of him. it's part of what makes him malleable by the player. you can help him understand why he's wrong, or you can lead him down a worse path.

i still reserve the right to feel some sort of way about astarion sacrificing fantasy-romani children for power, willingly. don't get me wrong, he's my favourite character, right up there with halsin. which is why i obviously have so many feelings about this.

(yes, the Gur were written inspired by romani people, if you were not aware)

2. the anti-immigrant sentiment is such an inherent part of the story that i did not think was going to stick around for SO long. i dont really have much to say about this, i think i should've expected it. as a fan of dragon age (i know, tragic) i'm quite used to unnecessary fantasy racism everywhere i go, i just hoped it wouldn't be part of the main crucial story.

3. larian studios i am so so so thankful for the halsin romance. eternally. forever and ever. he's my pookie bear and i'm so grateful some extra time was made to create a romance for him.

can i ask you why the hell does halsin want to LEAVE. At The End. i've noticed how much he contradicts himself throughout his questline and i just... I don't know. i've seen some other people complaining about how non-chalantly he talks about being a sex slave and i understand too, but i think it's part of his character to not take the horrible things that happened to him seriously like he does with others. that, or someone at larian took an unknown substance that led them to make halsin Very inconsistent.

with the poly situation, some people are strictly polyamorous! some people are strictly non-monogamous and do not feel comfortable being in a monogamous relationship. i understand the frustration everyone, but that's how halsin is. i dont know if that was the writers' intention, but that's certainly what he comes across as to me; strictly non-monogamous.

what i DONT understand is why he says he only wants you, calls you "my heart", is so fondly and lovingly attached to you, and then he just.... Dips? Whatever. I'm ignoring that part forever. it's not canon to ME!

anyways. yeah. feel free to Engage in some Friendly conversation. emphasis on friendly, for the love of g-d

#ezio.txt #the bear speaketh #bg3 halsin #halsin the druid #halsin #astarion #astarion bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate iii #antiziganism #sorry for rambling but also i have a mouth. i must scream #if you try to well actually me about this i'm eldritch blasting you #fantasy racism #dragon age

[sorcerous-caress]

Okay The dryder minthara fic was amazing. Do you have any stray head cannons about dryder minthara you’d like to share if so go feral please.

I have so much to talk about.

Drider Minthara universe headcanons

Okay so in this universe, each companion ended up choosing the "darker path"

Reader is not Tav or durge, they haven't met any of the companions before and don't know them. Only read about them in history books.

The exact time that passed since the events of bg3 is 100 years.

Gale ascended to godhood and used the orb to create a new lawless magic that worked completely different than Mystra's. It knows no bounds or limits, a church was established in his following soon after to teach and make new wizards.

Astarion became a vampire ascended, he is one of the biggest noble influences on Baldur's Gate politics. He has gathered hundreds of spawns and his worshippers and fanatics are only growing.

Shadowheart became the chosen of Shar, her life-span got extended and she ruled over the temple in the underdark. Astarion is not aware of her people's influence on the city but she is very much aware of his.

Wyll became the new official archduke of baldur's gate. Akin to a king as he got handed all the power his father previously wielded. His view on the world being black and white, good and evil, never changed and only grew more zealous. His original ideals of looking into grey areas were left abandoned. Behind the curtains Mizora offered a new contract to extend his lifespan.

Laezel became Vlaakith's silver sword, handing in Voss's head as a gift. The lich queen shared with her a small section of her power that allowed her to surpass her mortal limits. The sight of her red dragon could steer fear in the hearts of many.

No one knows what happened to Karlach, she seemed to just disappear one day. But her name couldn't be found on the list of those who parted this world, so she is very much alive.

Halsin embraced the shadow druid ways, after seeing the horrors of so called civilised cities who turned its head on the poor and weak.

Lastly Minthara. Who went back to her house in the underdark after handing it Orin's head. Who was surprisingly welcomed back. But her loyalty were still called into suspicion as her sisters demanded a trial. Lolth granted them that. Minthara knew Lolth wasn't done playing with her and that it was a trap yet she still went there and became a drider.

The paladin-wizards that attack reader and Minthara inside their nests are followers of Gale! His magic doesn't get suppressed by the sussur tree.

The bloodrose is a real thing in dnd, larian used it in divinity 2 and i thought it would be cool to make it bloom inside a sussur tree since they're polar opposite flowers.

Maybe i am lowkey giving Reader some form of blood magic.

Also yes, the dark Shadowheart here is almost the same as the one in the dark shart concept. Except there was no Tav this time.

#♡Minthara #♡drider minthara #♡century au #♡Gale #♡God Gale #♡shart #♡Dark shart #♡Astarion #♡Ascended Astarion #♡Wyll #♡corrupted Wyll #♡karlach #♡laezel #♡kithrack Laezel

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

The grove in Baldur's gate – About Archdruid Halsin

[Most of the book is exaggerated stories of heroic acts and sexual conquests with the cherry on top being defeating the elder brain with partner Tav and a series of misfits. Nothing you haven't read before. It speaks of the House of Grief and how it was turned into the grove of Baldur's gate, carefully curated by Archdruid Halsin and his partner. Nothing about it really interests you, until you get to the last chapter. Love and death – chapter written by Tav finished by... The name of the writer is scratched off but you see the first letter of the name resembling a V.]

He had been declining for a while but refused to say a word. I saw it in the way he needed to meditate after every social interaction he had, in the way he became more secluded, in the way he stopped spreading good advice. Time comes for all of us, but I was not ready for it to get to Halsin yet.  One night, just a week after my 350th birthday he sat me down in the backyard. He had lit a fire like he had done so many times, but this time he handed me a bottle of wine. Normally, we reserve alcohol for parties, preferring to drink tea instead. It surprised me, but I instantly knew what time it was. 

Halsin: "My heart, I am tired. I wish to rest my head under the grandfather tree and join my family once more."  

Tav: "My love, you know I will not hold you back. If you are tired, we shall make the journey."  

Halsin: "I had expected a bit more coercion."  

Tav: "Who am I to withhold what you want? Our hearts roam free and nature tells us when we may rest our heads. I am guessing that time is now for you."  

Halsin: "Using my words I see. My heart, if I may be so crude, are you not tired? You have done so much in so little time. I can only imagine how tired you are."  

Tav: "I am. I am more tired than I ever imagined I could be. But it is not my time yet."  

Halsin: "Then I will wait until you are ready. I cannot imagine entering the afterlife on my own."  

Tav: "Are you sure?"  

Halsin: "I think I have never been surer about anything."  

The following is a letter later found under the grandfather tree in the satchel of one of two skeletons laying intertwined. It seems Halsin kept his promise and stayed with his partner until they were ready.  

My heart,   Time has been cruel, more so to you than to me, and she has caught up with us. Though I wanted to lay down earlier, I do not regret a single moment I spend with you in wait for you to rest your head. You were my sun, my moon, my stars. You were the dewdrops on grass and the chirping melody of birds in the trees. Every time I look at you I see something different to love.  My love, with each day I loved you more and deciding I was too tired was the hardest decision I have ever made. Leaving you behind, the mere thought of it, filled me with dread but I knew it would be best for us. Yet, you brightened my days up once more and gave me energy to spend the last years by your side.  Nostalgic as I am, I remember the first time I saw you in that goblin camp. You cared for a dangerous creature more than you cared for the fear of having it attack you. At the time, I did not appreciate that gesture for what it was but after the Tiefling party my eyes began to wander, and I found myself admiring you more and more. Sadly, I could not let the task at hand go and I can only call myself the luckiest man alive for the mere fact that you were still interested in me.  You have given me the best years and I only hope you feel the same.  Now rest, my heart, you deserve it.   Love,   Halsin  

Masterlist

#halsin #halsin bg3 #halsin x tav #halsin drabble #halsin fanfic #halsin baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction

[phoenixpearl-ashes]

Alright, I've had food and gathered my thoughts (though to be honest most of them are still just incoherent happy yells) regarding the new finale party. So here we are, divided by each character below the cut, in roughly the arbitrary order I talked to them in.

Halsin- I was pleasantly surprised he went back to the moonrise region. Less surprised that he chills as a bear a lot of the time, but still delightful. But oh my goodness hearing he gets to settle down and take care of a bunch of kids? Highlight of the conversation. And he gave me a wooden duck! I will treasure it forever. Hug 10/10, one of the few party members not being just dwarfed by my dragonborn durge.

Astarion- Yes I know I arrived with him but I wanted to make sure he was good. As mentioned already I was so freaking happy to see how much he's managed to relax in the six months. And oh my gods him saying six months with Aeranan was equal weight to the literal 200 years of torture? Good gods. Aeranan loves this vampire so dearly. Also, absolutely fascinated by one of his lines saying that we have eternity likely confirming my theory that redeemed durge is still immortal. Which is awesome both for further story purposes and because I would absolutely hate to leave him alone again. Hug was 100/10, fucking loved the zoom in on him just tucked close and relaxed.

Lae'zel- I was incredibly happy to see her, even astrally projected because I royally fucked up her quest last game and she was a fugitive. So to see her this time, not only alive but in good spirits, was incredible. Orpheus remains alive, albeit in mind flayer form, and it seems likely to me that they stay in touch. She's doing amazing as the leader of the revolution. I wanted to hug her very badly, but alas, magic projection says no. Teensy bit sad I couldn't say hi to the red dragons but maybe after the whole war thing is over I can go and visit. ALSO she admitted she missed me so I am feeling so very loved right now.

Karlach- Karlach! I was so happy to see her okay. I missed the chance to hug her because apparently it's a missable dialogue choice so that was sad. But, the fact that she's up here again and there's actually hope to fix her engine!!! I'm so fucking happy about that. I hope they fix her heart and we all get to chuck the old engine at Zariel's head as it explodes. Also really happy she's getting on well with Wyll. She didn't deserve to be alone ever again.

Wyll- The blade of Avernus is as dashing as ever. Absolutely love that he reclassed into ranger and is just massacring devils. Fuck them up Wyll. Also the fact that we managed to keep his father alive this time around and they;re both proud of each other is just. Yes. I don't know if he'll stay in Avernus if Karlach can leave but I hope they stay a dynamic devil slaying duo for as long as they can.

Gale- Ahh he's a professor! So proud of him for not going mad with power and getting to settle down sans death orb. I'm less enthused he seems to still be vying for Mystra's attentions, but hey it's his life. I hugged him immediately because we are magic pals forever and he always looks like he needs on quite frankly. Another 10/10 hug Genuinely love his sincerity all through the game on his care for our friendship, and this portion was no different. Aeranan is going to guest lecture at his class with Astarion sometime and make every student gag at their lovey-dovey behavior.

(Bonus Tara)-I love Tara so much. Fantastic tressym no notes. Absolutely an honor to meet her. I would 100% give her the best place by the fire.

Jaheira- Friendly teasing with her continues as always. Teased Aeranan about the idea of starting a family although quite frankly I'm not sure that would even work given Aeranan and Astarion's...everything. But cute thoughts regardless. Any future kids would call Jaheira auntie and she would complain the whole time and love it. I did promise not to let any of them get into blood duels though. Aeranan's life aside, it was excellent to hear she's doing well and reconnected to her kids, and is getting the Harpers all coordinated on the city restoration. She seems happiest when she's busy, even if it does involve saving Minsc from himself every day or so.

Shadowheart- I'm really glad she's getting to live that free life she was robbed of as a child. Perhaps one day Nocturne can rejoin her as well but in the meantime its a lovely thing to think of her just drifting through the world as she pleases, making some alcohol perhaps, calling on old friends, and simply put, living. Hugged her with zero hesitation as well. 10/10 gave her multiple hugs throughout the evening because she always deserves them. I'm glad she's decided to pick up the responsibility of party planning in future though because Aeranan does not have the social skills to arrange this nonsense every 6 months or so. Well. They'd try for this group.

Minsc- Not even remotely surprised this man had to be portalled in from a jail cell. I was worried for about 5 secinds and them remembered him tearing open a mimic from the inside, so I think he'll be fine. Besides, Jaheira wouldn't leave him to rot in a jail cell, no matter how foolish he was to land himself there. Boo was cute as ever.

Scratch- Happy to see the good boy still doing well. Did not remember to have an animal speaking potion but ah well. Hilarious that the astral prism is a fetch toy now.

Owlbear Cub- Extremely cute and sweet as always. Gave him many many pats. Also arranged for him to live with Halsin. I think he'd be well able to take care of him and was very enthusiastic about the kids loving him. Our little cub deserves a happy and chill life.

Volo- Hilarious that he showed up without an invitation. Probably going to have to sue him for fraud/identity theft/libel at some point but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

Milil- I adore that we had a forgotten music deity as our evening entertainment. Super happy when I recognized him, obliged by playing songs that made me cry before the party was over. Hope I can chat with him again at future parties.

And there it was. A night to fondly remember and a group to return to time and time again. Friends, comrades, and the family Aeranan would always choose.

To us.

#bg3 #bg3 spoilers #Aeranan #halsin #astarion #lae'zel #karlach #wyll #gale #tara the tressym #jaheira #shadowheart #minsc #durge #withers

[thedevilsmemes]

ASTARION ANCUNIN QUOTES ~ BALDUR'S GATE 3 SENTENCE MEME!

"Hello, darling. Don't be shy, I promise I not to bite until we've been formally introduced."

"The tadpole's influence broke his dominance over me, and now I can finally pursue the one thing I've hungered for these long dark years."

"I'll be the last thing the bastard ever sees."

"Given that my choices were 'eternal life' or 'bleed to death on the street', I took him up on the offer."

"It was only afterwards I realized just how long 'eternity' could be."

"By the Hells. Sex, my dear. A night of passion."

"I'm out of wine and flowers, so I hope an introduction will suffice."

"And I wish I was drinking out of the skull of everyone who's ever wronged me. Life is tough."

"I've been waiting. Waiting since the moment I laid eyes on you. Waiting... to have you."

"Yes darling, that's what we call a lie."

"All I want is a little fun, is that so much to ask?"

"Why hello. Welcome to my humble party."

"Oh, we're lying to each other now? Excellent."

"But... you're no stranger now. Just strange."

"I hate it. This is awful."

"Wait! Don't interrupt them. Let me do it. They sound disgusting."

"I don't know, I'm sure a vampire spawn could still rip out your heart."

"My, My. Who knew our friend had so much blood in them?"

"Oh, you're such a sweetheart."

"I'm just glad you're being sensible about these revelations. I was worried people might turn up with torches and pitchforks."

"Although, there's still time."

"I already apologised. What more do you want? Unless you're looking for another nibble?"

"Yes, darling? Do you need something?"

"What in the sweet hells were you THINKING activating that lance, I was right there!"

"Next time? No no no, if there is a 'next time' I'll be the one aiming the all-powerful weapon."

"Although, I do appreciate you trying to fix your mistake, just don't do it again!"

"It's just that I happen to be a... what's the best way to put this? A vampire?"

"Oh my honour, the only thing on my mind, is depraved carnal lust."

"You couldn't wait ten seconds before being an absolute freak."

"Oh, good, puns. Because clowns aren't enough of a horror already."

"What? Was it something I said?"

"Really? - Anything in particular?"

"Now, I can't help but notice that one of us is positively drenched in blood. So..."

"At least the smut peddlers of Sharass' Caress will have a field day writing erotic verse about us when we're both dead."

"Hundreds? Urgh, it'll take hours to kill them all. She/He's right, we should just go."

"Oh? Then what do you want?"

"Five seconds into this relationship and I already want to break up with you."

"Oh the one hand, killing Gortash will be fun. On the other, Halsin can be very annoying."

"The man can't stay quiet about 'enjoying the freedom of nature's gifts'. I bet he'd outlaw clothing if he could."

"Good Morning. Thank you for not killing me the other night."

"Of course, what fun! I'm going to fucking kill you."

"I am. And beautiful - not enough people mention that."

"Hmm. Hmm. Thank you for helping me. It was very kind."

"I can't even tell if any of you are acting strange because you've been replaced or because this group is full of weirdos!"

"So... I was wondering if maybe - perhaps - you might be able to..."

"Can you read what's on my damn back? Please?"

"Well, hello... Looking for a cuddle?"

"What are you? No. We are not jumping down there!"

"Oh - eh - Hello again?"

"Easy now. Let's not do anything Hilarious."

"You have a manner of irresistible desperation about you. I like it."

"I'd trust a devil over a vampire any day. I think he likes us."

"Oh, bravo! Encore!"

"Why she sounds positively demented."

"I love it! let's tell her everything!"

"Don't be touchy. I'm sure he meant 'better off dead' as a compliment."

"I'd shake her hand, but she can still snap me in two, so... probably safest to skip it."

"Anyway, it's a brand new day. I'm sure we'll find lots of people for you to kill."

"I must see this. Don't you dare say no."

"Well, this seems like a lovely little spot. The sense of impending doom aside."

"I suppose it was only a matter of time until [ insert name ] took vengeance."

"For the Lady/Lord of loss, She/He does not like losing."

"Come to kill me again, darling?"

"Guilty as charged. Sometimes literally."

"What? No! Don't you dare! This isn't funny!"

"Huh, thank goodness, I was almost worried."

"Nice as it is, she still doesn't have the best hair in the camp."

"Well, I mean... kind of? It's a long story, honestly."

"You'll get back to me? This is important, devil! When?"

"It's not enough we have a gallery of villains to look out for, but now we could be infiltrated by a shapechanger?"

"But you're serious about this? About... us?"

"Tailor's mannequins? I never figured [ insert name ] for a follower of fashion."

"Well done again on besting Baal and all that. It was very twee."

"You filthy devil. I'm shocked."

"Haha! That's - Oh, you're serious."

"Well, of course we can leave him, it's the easiest thing in the world. We just have to keep on walking."

"Well, at least you purr for me..."

"The thing that will decide my fate forevermore? Yes, it has been on my mind, why?"

"Who knows how long before the others go feral without us there to guide them?"

"Let. Me. Go! - Ah... Hello!"

"No, as much as I'd like to become a Lord, ruling over the Underdark's vampire spawn, we have unfinished business with the mind flayers."

"I'm glad you had your fun then. I am here to provide an endless array of delights."

#baldurs gate 3 sentence meme #baldurs gate 3 sentence starters #roleplay sentence meme #roleplay memes #roleplay prompts #sentence prompts #sentence starters #sentence memes #writing meme #rp memes

[nsfwordwitch]

Kinktober 2023 Day 12

Prompt: Costumes Pairing: Halsin x nonbinary tiefling Tav 1349 Words

🔞Adults Only Blog🔞

“Is this how it’s meant to fit?”

Halsin looks up at Weft as they enter the room, and his heart skips a beat.

“I’m trying to fit in around here, you know, so it wouldn't help much if I look like a tourist who doesn't know which way of their trousers is the front.”

“It appears to fit quite well,” Halsin says, rising from his chair and approaching them. “Perhaps a little, hm, tight in the chest.”

“Really?” Weft looks down at their body, scrutinizing their outfit. It’s a typical one for those who live in druidic enclaves, like where they are now. He’s never seen Weft in something so…rustic. Usually they dress very smartly. Dignified. Buttoned-up. Now, in borrowed garb from one of his fellow druids, which they are nearly spilling out of in places, he finds they are having an effect on him. “I wasn’t sure if the front was supposed to close all the way or if it’s just a la mode to have your tits out around here.”

“Hm,” Halsin says.

Weft looks up at him, a smile playing on their face. “What?”

“What what?”

“What was that little noise about?”

He feels his cheeks get hot. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Is it the outfit?” they ask, stepping closer to him. “Is that why you look ready to devour me?”

“I’m always ready to devour you, my heart. But you’re right. Those clothes are…quite fetching, on you.”

“Interesting.” They press their body to his and he shivers, places his hands on their upper arms. “Who am I calling to mind, then? A young love? Maybe an instructor you had a childhood crush on?”

“No one in particular,” he says, voice a rumble. “Just remembering my hot-headed youth, when my fellow druids and I would galavant through the forest as we pleased, falling in and out of each other's arms. Before the world weighed heavily upon us.”

“Gods that sounds like fun. Even at my wildest, I still had to get up and go to work in the morning.”

“That hardly sounds wild at all.”

They laugh and hook their fingers into the top of his leggings, drawing them forward under his belly. “You wouldn’t think so, would you? How much time do we have?”

Halsin looks out the window of their temporary home. “Until sunset, so an hour or so.”

“Good. Devour me.”

He lets out a sound not unlike a growl and surges to them, guiding them to a wall. Weft melts in his arms, lacing their fingers into his hair. He draws his nose down their neck to their chest, where their breasts are barely contained by their bodice, and buries his face in their cleavage. He tastes their skin, drunk on their sweat and the smell of leather.

Halsin’s hands go to the ties at the front of their leggings and feverishly undoes them. Weft moves to unlace their bodice but he stays their hands.

“Wait, would you…leave the bodice on?”

Weft smiles, broad with surprise. “Halsin, wanting clothes to stay on? I never thought I'd see the day.”

He chuckles as he kneels to pull their leggings down. “My love, there is still so much for us to learn about each other.”

“Alright!” they say. “Keeping that in mind for the future! Ah–” He takes in their half-hard cock and plays at it with his tongue. It grows in his mouth, and he draws on it with increased fervor. His hands move to Weft’s backside, supporting them against the wall. He makes a small noise when the tip of their cock hits the back of his throat.

“That’s more like it,” he says after pulling off them. He looks up at them, admiring his lover in the soft light of the evening sun. They smile down at him.

“Don't leave me in suspense, beloved.”

“Of course not.” His hand travels between their cheeks and he massages at their entrance. “Would that I could take you back to those days. You would have thrived.”

“Oh? Would you have gotten possessive, to see me having my way with the lads and lasses and whoever else?”

He hums and presses his nose into their thigh. “Hardly. I'm sure I would have competed with the others for your attention. And done anything you asked, most likely.”

“Halsin,” Weft says with a laugh, “how is that different from now? Oh—”

He draws his tongue across the skin at the top of their thigh, making their cock twitch beside his cheek. “If you had asked me to, I would have gladly let another man take me, for your pleasure. Or made your favorite young lady come thrice before you graced me with your touch.”

They release a breathy laugh as he traces his nose across their stomach. “My preferences are already so clear to you, beloved, I’m a bit embarrassed.” 

“So I would have won your favor?”

“Without a doubt. And what if I was the one pursuing you?”

“It would have been a short game.”

He takes them in his mouth again and they sigh in pleasure. He slips a first and then a second finger inside them, and they moan. As he pulls off and on them, again and again, they say “I would have been hard pressed to resist you, I think, but I would have enjoyed putting you in your place, too. Young, brash, cocky. I would have been delighted to play with you. Oh, yes, darling.”

Their grip on his hair tightens and he moves faster, the fingers in their ass swirling. When he feels them tense, he pulls off, letting their seed fly across his face, catching him from below his eye down to his chin. They gasp to see him, and he grins when they hide half their face with one hand. “You’re mad,” they sigh, blushing deeply. “Let me clean you up.”

He lets them pull him standing and they drag their tongue across the skin of his face, making him shudder. They smile at him, so fondly. “That would have won you my favor for sure.”

“And what does your favor entail?”

Their hands are on his leggings, loosening the laces. “Permission to fuck me, obviously.”

He growls and dives for their neck, lips locked to it as they pull out his cock. When it springs forth, he lifts them by the bare thighs and presses them against the wall. They gasp and scrabble for purchase, their hands gripping a door frame and shelf. Halsin maneuvers his hips so the head of his cock is aligned with their hole, and pushes in.

“Yes,” they moan, “gods.” His fingers dig into their thighs as he moves in and out of them, and he watches their stomach flex to stay upright. Their breasts shake as he thrusts into them, their whole body trembling around him. They cry out in pleasure, their voice filling him with pride. “Gods you’re huge, fuck, fuck me.” Stars burst in his head to hear them, and he pounds harder. He comes with one final thrust and a shudder, and just manages to slip out of them before they both collapse to the floor.

Halsin lays flat on his back, panting, and Weft drapes themself on top of him. They breathe together in contented silence.

When Weft notices how little light is left outside the window, they rise and retreat to the bedroom with their leggings. “There’s towels back here, right?”

“I’m sure,” Halsin calls back. “Check the wardrobe.” After a moment, Weft returns, fully dressed once again, and crouches beside him. They wipe his crotch, making him shiver, and then smile as they tuck him back into his clothes and lace them back up.

“It’s such a pleasure to me,” they say, “that you’ve lived so long. With the life you've led, I feel like I’ll never run out of presents to unwrap.”

He draws his hand down from their stomach to their crotch, and on down their thigh. “And I have the pleasure of unwrapping you.”

“Ha! You sure do, old man.”

#r-18 #baldur's gate 3 #kinktober 2023 #halsin #halsin baldur's gate 3 #oc weft

[amatres]

tagged by @turbulentpumpkin43 to fill out this relationship graph! here's balaerra's, she is doing so well in everyone's perspectives as you can see

i'll tag @fuckitwebhaal and @commander-lariel, for any of your ocs! no pressure tho! and anyone else who would like to!

here's the blank version!

Relationships somewhat more elaborated on under cut

Astarion: The toxic codependent relationship where they destroy each other bc they love each other and don't know how else to go about it of all time I think. What more needs to be said lol. The lamer versions of the Briarwoods for Baldurs Gate. Seriously though, the two found each other a safe place and fell in love without realizing it, and even much to Astarion's surprise Balaerra is a much more tender lover than he expected from the outset. Unfortunately they both believed power would keep them safe, and because of that they damned each other to eternity and killed over 7000 people for it.

Gale: They are just friends :) Gale had romantic feelings for her, for Some Reason, so that is part of my canon now. My man, I hope when everything is over you like. just live your life in peace never thinking of her again bc even if she only has good intentions for you, she will still destroy you. I do think he'd be stuck between his lingering affection for her, while also the horror at who she ended up being, for a long time.

Halsin: He propositioned her as well, which I am still perplexed by but I must contextualize it to make it make sense. So in my head, he saw the good she did in the Shadowlands (even if she was doing it out of anger and spite), and not only admired her for it but believed he could help keep her on that path. Unfortunately that is not true, and I'm sure later on he'll mourn her for what she was while probably helping whatever adventurer comes along to put an end to her with a heavy heart. Balaerra for her part thought he was nice and found his insights interesting, even if she didn't agree with him all too often.

Jaheira: Allies of convenience. Similar to Halsin, Jaheira saw the good Balaerra was possible of but unlike him saw much earlier how far she was slipping. 'I mourn the person you were before all of this' indeed.

Karlach: Childhood friends, Balaerra was the one who suggested Karlach work for Gortash so many years ago, believing it was helping her. Then Karlach went missing and Balaerra ended up in her own horrible relationship with her teacher. They want each other to live so badly, but they both die in the end. Karlach physically, Balaerra in every other way. With Karlach dying, I think that's also the last shred of Balaerra's former life that dies with her, and it's just the eternity she is tied to with Astarion afterwards.

Lae'zel: Besites 💕The two of them get along so well it's hilarious. They share similar pragmatism, as well as ride or die attitudes once they are closer, and Balaerra very easily signed a devil's contract just because Lae'zel asked her to. I'm pretty sure Lae'zel will leave for the astral sea in the end, so what thoughts she could have on Balaerra's further decay would never come to pass I think.

Minthara: Balaerra killed her, so there's not much to say unfortunately lol. Calling Balaerra being a half drow an 'impurity' hit too sore a nerve for her, so she had to go.

Shadowheart: Another complicated one! Shadowheart trusts Balaerra a lot, and it was at Balaerra simply asking if she was sure she wanted to do it that had Shadowheart change her mind and go against Shar. All the more heartbreaking that even though Balaerra had such a positive influence on her, at the same time Shadowheart has to watch as Balaerra and Astarion slip beyond the event horizon to their own traumas.

Wyll: Interesting as well, the two aren't the closest of friends but I believe Wyll saw promise in her, and Balaerra admired his strength despite all he endured. She pushed for him to be free of his contract, bc he would never be safe if he stayed in it. Similar to Jaheira, I think he would mourn who she could be while being disgusted with who she became at the end.

#tag game #balaerra (oc) #ama plays baldurs gate #ship: you will always be hungry #'it's complicated' in that they saw her maybe becoming a better person only to very strongly nose dive at the last possible moment #so they're just kinda. 😶🧍‍♂️ #sorry for the messy hand drawn arrows lol. and for it taking so long to make this i kept staring at the wall bc of last nights gameplay lol

[tieflingtareon]

My love, are you the devil? (Oh, call me a devil)

Chapter 18 | Words: 5.6k

Summary: Astarion found himself often surprised by his heroic companion. He had one goal. To become the favoured companion of the group, to earn the Tieflings loyalty, to make Tar'eons strength his own. Yet Tar'eon isn't like the usual target of his manipulations. Despite his naivety, he does not seem gullible. There is something very wrong with their 'leader' to begin with. Astarion isn't sure if he wants to control it or eradicate the threat it posed. But can he really do either when Tar'eon himself seems so...unwaveringly kind?

That devil is getting into his head, while others get into Tar'eons. He doesn't appreciate not having the upperhand after years of being at the disadvantage. He will find a way to make him see.

He is the one he should be listening to. Astarion would make it so, no matter the means.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50668558/chapters/127995079

"I truly appreciate your help, Tar’eon. Thanks to you...I can make amends with an old friend, and hopefully lift the curse off this land." Halsin bowed his head to Tar'eon, hoping his gratitude was as potent as it felt in his chest.

"It was a rough day, I won't lie, but I'm glad to know we saved both Cullagh and Thaniel from the curse. Neither deserved to be further tormented." Tar'eon smiled weakly. He was beyond tired, bruised and tender, but it had been a good distraction.

It took his mind off Astarion. Astarion who still hadn't come out of hiding when he left. Karlach assured him she'd look for him, but Tar'eon feared the worst. Feared he had left, for good. He knew Astarion - he would find the road to Baldur's Gate with ease, and live in the daylight until he found his own way to kill Cazador. He was a survivor at his core. He withstood two hundred years of torture; if anyone had the strength, the willpower, or the intellect to defeat Cazador, even alone, it was him.

He hadn't been able to find Astarion himself, but he had found the owlbear cub, and it seemed he and Scratch were becoming quite good friends. It was one good thing. It didn't ease the ache in his chest though, feeling like a permanent bruise to his heart. He wasn't sure if it would ever heal, if he was honest. He had ruined everything. Pushed him too far. And now Astarion was gone.

"You look tired." Halsin frowned and hesitated before he stepped closer, his hand glowing with a gentle whisper in his baritone voice. His magic graced over him, and he could hear a waterfall distantly, the peace of standing in a meadow overcoming his senses. Where Shadowheart's healing was like a powerful wave, seeking out wounds like arrows to a target, Halsin's was a gentle stream, travelling down from the top of his head to the tips of his toes.

Every ache seemed to ease, even the one in his chest, if only for a moment. He realised he had closed his eyes and opened them once more, sparing Halsin a smile, this one much more sincere even if small.

"Thank you."

"I know our initial meeting was...not ideal. I feel I am yet to be forgiven, but you have been generous nonetheless, helping me. You brought my friend back to me. And hopefully, once Ketheric is gone, you will bring peace back to these lands as well." Haslin's smile was gentle, and Tar'eon found himself returning it.

"I don't think I'll ever forget. But I think I'm ready to forgive." He offered graciously. "We could use all the allies, and friends, we can get."

"A smart choice. Very leader-like of you." Halsin chuckled. "You would have made a fine druid."

"Perhaps in another life." Tar'eon shrugged and sighed. "I'm exhausted. Thank you, for the pick me up, but I think it's time I hit the hay."

"Do not let me keep you. You mentioned travelling west, back towards Moonrise. Something tells me you will need your strength, should things go unfavourably."

"I've been told I have quite the silver tongue. May it bless me when I finally face the Absolute." Tar'eon mused and bowed his head, a small tilt of his right horn before he took his leave. "Do get some rest, Halsin."

"I will certainly try." The druid hummed, and that was that.

He made his way towards the stairs, pausing momentarily to note that Gale was chatting with Wyll once more by the barrels of wine, a bright light flickering in his palm. They couldn't have been back more than an hour, but the pair looked freshly washed, Gale's hair still damp against the collar of his tunic.

"A simple cantrip - please, go ahead. I would love to see your magic. Even if you are not studied in the way of the Weave." Gale sounded teasing, voice fair lighter than Tar'eon was used to, and Wyll shook his head, an amused look in his eyes. He raised his palm up and closed his eyes, whispering a spell under his breath. There, was a mimic of Gale's own white light, flickering like a flame being guided by the wind. It was noticeably larger than Gale's own, and the wizard seemed to notice this, narrowing his eyes at the smirking warlock.

"You're doing that on purpose."

"Perhaps just a little." Wyll grinned, nodding to the wizard to continue his little lesson. Indulging him. Gale shook his head but was smiling nonetheless.

"You have talent, at least. It earns you a little arrogance. Now, repeat after me; Ah-Thran Mystra-Ryl Kantrach-Ao."

"Ah, a tongue twister. I delighted in those as a child." Wyll chuckled, not looking overwhelmed in the slightest as he stared the man head on, almost in challenge, repeating his words in a bold, proud fashion. Though, moments later the self-satisfied expression on Wyll's face changed. Shifting from confused, to shocked, before it settled into something pleasant. His smile was softer now.

"Very good." Gale looked proud, voice warm and sweet like tea and honey.

"It is...sweet?" Wyll was looking at him like he had given him a precious gift, something he hadn't realised he wanted, or yearned for. "In both scent and essence. I never would have thought..." His voice held an uncharacteristically wispy lint to it, like he was a million miles away, lost in thought.

"Every ounce of the Weave is more beautiful than you would ever be able to comprehend. Even now, after so long connected to it, I find myself in amazement. Magic is my everything; and yet it still marvels me. Surprises me." Gaze's dark eyes held a brightness to them as he spoke, so obviously delighted by Wyll's success in connecting to the Weave as well, if just a minuscule amount, a sparkle twinkling in his gaze. Tar'eon hadn't had the pleasure of seeing such an expression from the man before. "It means the world to share it with another."

"It means the world to experience it again. I don't think I've made a real connection since...since before Mizora." He admitted. "I suppose I forgot how."

"One never truly loses their connection once they have it. Your pact, Mizora be damned, may have given you magic of an eldritch nature, but it is still magic nonetheless. You've made magic that is seen as evil into something good. Something useful. Not many people dare to defy such odds."

Wyll huffed out a soft laugh, looking bashful at the praise.

"I miss the magic I once had, I won't lie. I could...weather storms, break light through the clouds - I miss it." He suddenly looked sad, remembering what he once had. "But I do not regret. I never will. I use this power she gave me for the right reasons. I would never compromise on that. People may see a devil now, but I will always be the Blade that swore to protect them. I hope others see that in time."

"Your merry band of heroes are all people talk about from what I've heard. Do not fret over your image in their eyes. I see you perfectly clearly, my friend, if that counts for anything."

"It counts for a lot." Wyll smiled, his eyes fond as he gestured to the wizard. "Please. Continue. I find your lesson quite...fascinating. Allow me to travel the Weave with you. You have the makings of a great teacher."

Gale guffawed out a laugh, a hand on his chest.

"Flattery! If I am the teacher, then I declare you my favourite student." He crossed his arms, looking rather fondly at him as he nodded to the man. "Now, I want you to picture in your mind the concept of harmony. As true as you can."

Gale watched Wyll with anticipation, like he was itching to see the results of his teachings as the swordsman closed his eyes, his brows pinched at first as he thought, before they smoothed, looking both sad yet peaceful. Melancholy. Whatever he was thinking about, it caused a faint surge of power, a sphere of purple light growing before it dispersed into almost a fog, a string of something weaving around the pair.

Tar'eons eyes widened. The Weave itself. He'd never seen it before. He held the rail of the staircase tightly, unable to move as he watched it in fascination.

Wyll looked shocked, yet delighted all at once as he turned his head from side to side to follow its path, his red eye reflecting it's faint purple glow in the low light of their not-so-hidden hideaway. Gale laughed, light and impressed as he admired it like one would a lover, with intricate care and appraisal.

"You did it. You're channelling the Weave. How does it feel?" Gale grabbed Wyll's attention back with his words, the horned man taking a moment to shake his head in amazement.

"Magical." A laugh punched past his lips like he couldn't quite believe what was in front of him. "Sensual, even." He admitted, raising his hand and watching the magic slip through his fingers like soft fur.

"That it does." Gale breathed. There was a moment of compatible silence between the pair as the Weave seemed to envelop them, drawing them closer with Gale's shifting of a foot, and with Wyll's gentle lean, his weight on one side of his body rather than centred like it usually was.

Then there was another moment, where they looked at each other, and Tar'eon found himself feeling like an intruder on a moment he shouldn't be a part of. Like he'd stepped into something quite...intimate.

"I...I didn't think..." Gale suddenly sounded so unsure, and Wyll's weight shifted to his other leg, growing back the distance between them that had been there previously. "Sorry, I wasn't expecting..."

The Weave seemed to evaporate around them, the quiet moment broken, and Wyll cleared his throat. Gale looked around, something mournful in his expression.

"There it goes..." He murmured, seemingly to himself.

"I apologise. I was...simply caught up in the moment. I find myself doing that a lot. Misinterpreting others intentions. Please, banish the memory from your mind, if only to save me the embarrassment." Wyll was attempting to smile, but it was obvious he was hurt, and perhaps even a little ashamed to have been so forward in such short time.

"It is a pleasant image, do not think me so callous as to...think otherwise." The small, polite smile on Gale's lips dissolved, that previous sparkle in his eyes fading. Dark eyes regained their haunted visage. "It was...most pleasant. If we had met earlier, it would have been most welcome, too. But I'm afraid I...I am not one you'd want to consider such things with. I cannot be what you desire, not in the present time, nor future. My mission from Mystra comes before anything else. Even...even things I may desire just as much."

"You speak a lot of your mission, yet I haven't a clue what it is." Wyll pursed his lips.

"I think it better if you don't know." Gale took a step back, arms behind his back. "Goodnight. I...I enjoyed sharing a moment of magic with you, Wyll."

"As did I." Wyll sighed, turning to the back door and stepping out into the night, not returning the wizards parting farewell. Gale stood there for a long moment, looking hollowed out. Like he was standing before Kelemvor's scales, awaiting judgement. His shoulders sagged with a soft sigh, his left hand holding his right wrist behind his back.

"This is for the best. For everyone's sake. They'll thank me one day." The wizard said it out loud like he was trying to convince himself, and Tar'eon hid further up the steps of the staircase as Gale turned and made towards the opposite staircase, towards his own room.

Tar'eon shook his head sadly at the pair. He'd watched them for much too long; breached their privacy in a way he shouldn't have dared, even if they hadn't noticed him watching. It had been so nice to see Gale shine so brightly, even if only for a couple minutes, and to see Wyll smile so warmly at another...

Tar'eon had feared the wizard wouldn't open up to them, especially with his promises of a short journey, a temporary partnership. His heart ached for Wyll, advances rejected twice during the blossoming of them, for Gale, wrapped up in some unknown mission that seemed to haunt him. He hoped Gale would flourish alongside the others during his time with them, that perhaps...he'd put himself before his mission, whatever it was. It was obviously taking it's toll on him, whatever his Goddess had ordered of him.

Tar'eon did not follow any particular God or Goddess, he had no patron to follow the instructions of, so he couldn't understand it, not really. He simply wanted Gale to see the end of this journey alongside them, to be free of his tadpole and to return to Waterdeep, or wherever he wished to go.

Tar'eon let his head fall back against the wall before sighing and dragging himself up the remaining stairs.

"Now if you really want to make a good steal, you must always flatter the wealthy before sinking your sticky fingers into their pockets. You little ring trick is nothing, and hardly worth the effort. Instead, make a scene. The wealthy care not for party tricks, but they do care about their precious cloaks and doublets." Tar'eon paused at the top of the stairs, the familiar sound of that voice bleeding the tension from his body. The relief was so sudden, so potent, he thought he might cry, but all he did was exhale raggedly, watching as Astarion moved a gold piece between his fingers, flipping and snatching it in a swift movement, only to reveal it to be missing.

The children were crowded around him, listening to his advice with rapture, some piled onto the floor while Astarion sat on the couch with Mirkon and Arabella, the former tucked into his side. Astarion had his arm along the back of the couch, allowing the action but not acknowledging the young boy's closeness.

"Tar'eon wouldn't be happy with you, encouraging us to steal." Mattias remarked, smirking anyway. She was looking over Astarion, like she was trying to find the gold piece he'd hidden away.

"Tar'eon can complain all he likes." Astarion tutted. "He doesn't have the skill to pickpockets like I do. He's simply jealous." The vampire smirked, reaching down to tuck a curl behind Mirkon's ear, pulling the gold piece out from behind it, eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Woah..." Mirkon looked at the coin in awe, placing a hand over his ear, like he might find more. "I didn't even feel it. How did you get it behind my ear?"

"He didn't, it's a magic trick, Mirkon." Mattias rolled her eyes. "A simple sleight of hand. A good one at that."

"Why, are you praising me, little darling?" Astarion placed a hand to his chest, smirking like he had won a debate. He flicked the coin off his forefinger with his thumb and Mattias caught it quick, looking at Astarion with wide eyes before she tucked it away in her pouch. The vampire simply chuckled.

"It's getting late, and I can smell that you lot have not washed in a tenday. Go! Bathe and put yourselves to bed." Astarion shooed the children, looking as haughty as ever. Mirkon looked up at him shyly with a mass of coiled curls half covering his eyes.

"Um...will you tell us a story before bed, Mister 'Starion? Maybe one of your adventures?"

"Absolutely not." Astarion gave the child a deadpanned look. "I am not your doting saviour, nor your storybook hero. You are all much too old for bedtime stories, harpy bait."

Doni grunted at Astarion's callous answer, scowling at the vampire when Mirkon ducked his head, looking embarrassed for even asking. Even Mattias was glaring at him, as much as she poked fun at Mirkon herself on the daily. Silfy looked as crestfallen as Mirkon was.

With all the withering glares and sad puppy dog eyes on Astarion, he shifted uncomfortably and crossed his arms, refusing to give in. It lasted all of five seconds before he broke, groaning and throwing his arms up.

"Fine! Fine, I will read you a bed time story. But only after you have washed yourselves. All I can smell is dirt and ash. Go, before I change my mind." Mirkon and Silfy perked up, looking delighted as they both scrambled onto their feet and ran off, Mattias smirking like she had won this time, Doni following after her and the two boys. Arabella was the only one left, sitting on the couch beside the vampire.

"You act mean, but you're not cruel. Not really." She smiled. "Can we have a story about dragons? Mirkon likes dragon stories."

"Oh, get lost, little thief." Astarion scoffed and shooed her without answering her question. She continued to smile anyway, getting off the couch, and like she could sense his presence, she turned to look at Tar'eon.

"You're back!" She ran up to him and hugged him tight around the waist, Tar'eon placing a hand on top of her head and smiling softly before he looked up to meet Astarion's startled gaze. The vampire quickly stood, standing tall, looking as elegant as ever, even if he swayed on the spot.

"I-" He started, before seeming to catch himself. "Welcome back."

"You're still here." Tar'eon hadn't meant it to come out the way it did. Breathless. Filled with the fear he had felt at the idea he was gone. So much relief in just three words.

"I...Well, of course. Where else would I go? It's positively dreadful out there." Astarion deflected, avoiding his eyes. Arabella let go of Tar'eon and looked between the two men. She smiled to herself, something small and secretive.

"I'm going to wash up. Astarion's going to tell us a bed time story tonight."

"I heard. His stories will probably be a lot more creative than my own." Tar'eon chuckled, ruffling her hair. He knew his voice wasn't really suited to the embellishments that children liked, even if it was soothingly low.

"We'll have to wait and see." Arabella laughed and went off to join the others. Leaving the two men alone.

It was silent a long moment, neither making a move to breach the uncomfortable tension as they stood, a few broad steps apart. Tar'eon rubbed the back of his neck, remembering he was still covered in soot and remnants of shadow monster vestiges. He cleared his throat.

"I...I think I'll go bathe also. After the children are asleep, perhaps we could...talk?" He asked, hopeful.

"Yes." Astarion agreed quickly, looking much less confident than he usually did, playing with the ruffles along the neckline of his bed shirt. "I- yes. We have...I have something to tell you. But it can wait until they're asleep."

"Good, good, I...I'll come join you in their chambers when I'm done." Tar'eon gave a tight smile, ignoring the ache in his chest as he disappeared into their room. Anxiety festered in his gut, but he refused to let it consume him. Whatever Astarion had to say, he would know soon enough.

And he would take it in stride. No matter his response.

****

When Tar'eon finally joined them, he was happy to see all the children were in their own beds. Mattias and Silfy were sharing one as sister and brother, Silfy cuddling his sister close. Doni was clutching onto his stuffed bear, wearing away at its paw pad as he listened to Astarion speak. Arabella's auburn hair was loose from her ponytail, hair still wet against her pillow, and Tar'eon sat on the edge of her mattress, beckoning her silently to sit up so he could dry her hair with his towel, slightly damp from drying his own a few moments before, the dark strands now pulled back into a low ponytail.

Mirkon was looking up at Astarion with pure rapture as he wove a tale about a group of adventures slaying a dragon that was as black at night, holding a stuffed lion that looked even older than the boy hugging it. Mirkon had managed to weasel himself against the mans side again, his curls spilling over onto the vampires thigh.

As much as Astarion had protested, he was good at telling stories. Perhaps it was from all the practised lies he'd told over the course of his life. The cadence of his voice helped too, managing to both enthral the children while lulling them to rest. By the time he concluded his story, Mattias, Silfy and Doni were well and truly asleep, and Mirkon looked ready to drop off himself.

Arabella's hair was as dry as it could be, and Tar'eon whispered a soft incantation to dry the towel, warm and fluffy before he ruffled her hair once more, draping it over her pillow so she wouldn't have to sleep on the cold wet spot.

"Will you tell us another story tomorrow...?" Mirkon asked sleepily, and Astarion quirked a brow, smirking a little as he slipped off the bed and crouched beside it. He scratched his nails through the young boys hair.

"Sleep now, or you will not have the energy to convince me, come morning." He said lowly in a honeyed voice, the boy drifting off near instantly like he'd been enchanted to do so. Astarion stood, a hand on his hip as he slid his eyes over all the children, as if counting off the sleeping babes. His eyes landed on Arabella and Tar'eon, the tiefling pulling the blanket up over the young druid sorceress who smiled at him, turning on her side and closing her eyes.

"Goodnight, Arabella."

"'Night, mister..." Tar'eon waited until her breathing evened out before he dared to move, going to each child's bed and tucking them in so their blankets wouldn't fall off in the night from their tossing and turning.

"You spoil them too much." Astarion said softly, not wanting to wake them. "They'll get used to it, you know."

"They don't have anybody to care for them to begin with, Astarion. Doni may have a guardian in Rikka, but the others - they don't have anybody but each other. No parents, no uncle or aunts, no grandparents - they don't even have their little leader anymore. Mol is in the wind, lost...If I can give them just a little bit of comfort, make their day a little brighter through all the grief that follows them like a plague...I will." Tar'eon meant every word. If he did not fear the danger the journey ahead would bring, if he did not fear his own self, he would make a home for them, perhaps in Baldur's Gate. He would provide them with the guardian, the family, that they now lacked.

Astarion sighed. He was such a bleeding heart. When had he started to like that about him, rather than begrudge him for it?

"Come on, now. You make too much noise, clomping around. I'm not telling them another story tonight." Astarion ushered Tar'eon out, and Tar'eon found himself smiling a little. Astarion hadn't said no to a bedtime story tomorrow. The vampire blew out the candle by the door and closed it with the softest click.

He didn't look at Tar'eon for a moment, staring at the children's door.

"I...Oh Hells, if I don't tell you now, I know I never will." Astarion sighed and took Tar'eons wrist, guiding the man to follow him to their shared room, needing the privacy. His previous anxiety rushed back to him, standing in the middle of the room as Astarion closed the door behind them, crossing his arms and seeming to ponder his next few words.

"...I think- I know, we have to talk." Astarion began, but still looked nervous. Tar'eon tilted his head at him, trying to decipher where this was going.

"Are you alright?" He hadn't seen him the entire night or day. He wondered where he had run off to. If he'd done more damage to him than what was repairable.

"Oh yes, I'm fine, I just..." Astarion shook his head ever so slightly, those usually narrowed eyes round and wide, more vulnerable than he had ever seen him. More upset than he allowed Tar'eon to see him when together. "...feel awful."

Tar'eon stepped closer, but Astarion placed a hand out to ward him off, to keep the mere few steps between them as he tried to collect his thoughts. He wanted to say his part before Tar'eon either forgave him, the bleeding heart he was, or decided to toss him to the shadows.

"Look, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan - seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you'd never turn on me." Astarion tried to laugh like it was funny, to break the tension, to avoid crying. His voice wobbled more than he liked though, strained.

"It was...easy. Instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in." It was all he could remember, all he knew how to do. "All you had to do...was fall for it." And that's where it had all fallen apart. Because Tar'eon had. And Astarion had been stupid enough to get caught up in his own game.

"And all I had to do was not fall for you..." He smiled bitterly, cursing his past self for putting him in this predicament. For allowing himself to feel something for the first time in two centuries. To feel for someone. He thought Cazador had stripped him of even that, if he was honest.

He caught Tar'eons eyes, so hard to read in the moment.

"Which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart." Something shifted in the air, the confession a weight off his chest even if he could feel himself trembling from the anxiety of baring himself before the man in a way he wasn't used to. To think, he could bare his naked body and feel nothing, but to bare his soul...it felt close to torture. He would know. He knew of torture intimately.

"You-...you're incredible." There a breathless aspect to the truth, despite not needing to breathe in the first place. He watched Tar'eon, the softening of his expression, the sadness in his eyes. He probably felt bad, making Astarion open up like this in order to apologise. He was the type to feel guilty when presented with something he admitted to wanting.

"I want you more than anything."

"You deserve something real." Astarion hated how rough his voice sounded to his own ears. "I want us...to be something real."

Astarion had said all he needed to. The ball was in Tar'eons court now. Whatever he decided...Astarion would accept it. Whether he sent him away, or declined his offer, so be it. But he hoped. He hoped for Tar'eon to say yes. To say he felt the same, even still, knowing he had lied to him.

"I...I want nothing more, Astar." Tar'eons voice was soft, like he feared being any louder would break him away from this dream. "I just...I have to know. The nights we spent together...did that mean anything to you? Did it- did it mean as much to you as it did me?"

"Of course they did!" Astarion was quick to assure before he stepped back, leaning against the door with a soft sigh. "That's the problem. Or, part of it."

Tar'eon stepped closer, but Astarion did not ward him away this time, did not stop him.

"Being close to someone - any kind of intimacy - was something I- performed to lure people back...for him." The him in question didn't need to be named. Astarion shook his head. Karlach had said he needed to be honest. Tar'eon deserved his honesty, even if speaking about the subject made his skin crawl. "Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels...tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust and loathing."

Tar'eon did not touch him, but his presence still felt like a balm to the ache in his chest as he spoke. Like a welcome caress that didn't leave his stomach roiling. He resented himself for being disgusted to begin with, the desire to have a normal relationship with intimacy so strong it felt like a hand around his windpipe.

"I don't know how else to be with someone...No matter how much I'd like to."

His eyes slipped shut as Tar'eons hand gently touched the side of his face, the heat of his palm burning through the chill of his skin. He reached up to hold the warmth there, turning his nose into his wrist, listening closely to the strong, gentle beating of his heart. It didn't feel like expectation, or like wanton desire, a coaxed flame.

It felt like love. He wasn't quite used that feeling.

"You know how I feel. You know I care for you. Deeply." Tar'eon whispered, his thumb smoothing along the skin beneath his eye. Admiring Astarions expression. The yearning. He thought he'd been the only one.

"Really?" Astarion opened his eyes slowly, pale lashes framing red eyes as they turned upwards to meet his. Looking for reassurance.

Tar'eon didn't bother telling him in words, in action. Instead, he closed his eyes and allowed the tadpole to reach out to Astarions, opening his mind to him for the first time since they met, completely voluntary. He had to be careful, not wanting anything unseemly to peak through the rush of adoration. He didn't want Astarion to see the urges, the darkness. He wanted him to see how bright he was in his eyes. How beautiful. How easy he was to love.

He let the intensity of his feelings ride through the pulsing waves of the connection, letting images flutter into Astarion's mind. Memories of his smile, his laugh, the way he basked in the sunlight with his books, and the way he glowed in the moonlight with his pale complexion. He showed him the way his red eyes reflected the flames of their campfire, the stark white of colour of his hair in daylight, the silvery-grey in the night. He thought about the way he looked with his bow, poised to strike, and his elegant fingers wrapped around a dagger; and then those same fingers with a needle pinched between them as he weaved thread through fabric.

He even let himself show Astarion at his worst, the glimpses of his anger, his hunger for power, his bloodlust; all conflicting to Tar'eon, objectively ugly, but loved just as much as the beautiful parts.

He wanted Astarion to see everything he loved. The occasional kind words, the cadence in his voice, his faux cruelty he played into for his own amusement. His sheer willpower, and the instinct to survive. His ability to coax Tar'eon away from his dark thoughts with his presence alone. He even admired the refusal to submit to humiliation tactics by Raphael, and the refusal to submit to Cazador ever again despite the terror his old master induced in him.

More than anything, he adored his wide, fanged smile, and the rounded softness of his eyes when he was truly happy. In the moments where he seemed to forget the decades upon decades of torment, and was simply a man again, enjoying the simple pleasures of life.

When Tar'eon opened his eyes, the connection dying down to a whisper, and then nothing, he saw Astarions own eyes closed, a soft pinch between his brows as he tried to reconcile with the image of himself he'd never seen before. He was seeing himself through Tar'eon, through his eyes, and it was more beautiful than he could ever imagine his reflection in a mirror to be. Terrifying knowing, but beautiful.

He opened his eyes, looking up into the tieflings, unsure if he'd ever be able to pick which was his favourite colour when both were so captivating.

"You...you are full of surprises, aren't you?"

"You've told me that before." Tar'eon smiled softly, achingly gentle as he caressed his cheek, his hand falling down to his side. Astarion grinned, baring the fangs Tar'eon loved, feeling a rush of giddiness he wasn't used to associating with anything other than a good kill.

"Honestly, I have no idea what we're doing. Or what comes next." He grew sombre, but his smile remained as he gently took Tar'eons hand in his, soaking up the warmth and encasing it with his other. Tar'eons hands were calloused, unlike Astarions who only held a coarse bump on his middle finger, on his right hand, from years of holding a quill before his turning.

To think, the one with a gentle heart had such rough hands, while the one who had been without one for two centuries, had hands as soft as lilies.

"But I know this?" He squeezed gently. "This is nice."

It was the only nice thing he could remember having for himself. He never wanted it to end.

Tar'eon threw his arm around him, drawing the vampire closer as a burst affection filled his body, the need to express it overcoming him. He enveloped Astarion in his arms, his face buried into his shoulder, and his lover seemed surprised. Slowly though, his arms came around his waist in return, tucking his nose against his neck. Tar'eon didn't mind the chill. He welcomed it.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there, with Astarion in his arms, but it never felt like it would be long enough. So he held on, and let Astarion decide when it would be over. After a minute of silence, soaking in the contact, the vampires fingers curled into the back of his nightshirt, clinging to him, and Tar'eon smiled.

He'd stay there a century, if that's what he wanted, and he'd consider it a life well spent.

#astarion x dark urge #astarion x mc #astarion x tav #astarion x male tav #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfiction #astarion bg3 #bg3 tav #astarion #bg3 fic

[omgkalyppso]

📚 ⇢ what's the last thing you wrote down in your notes app? 

🌿 ⇢ give some advice on writer's block and low creativity

Thank you for the ask! (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)

🌿 ⇢ give some advice on writer's block and low creativity

I do like that post that's going around that says Do It Bored. Because creativity can feel illusive, but forward motion is forward motion. And wrt writer's block, having other projects to explore can only take you so far until you're overladen with WIPs in my experience. One of the better pieces of writer's block advice for me is that your problem is 10 lines ago, or w/e. I'm more accustomed to cutting out whole sections and paragraphs, and my god it hurts to write 300 words and instantly be like Wait No but it happens. Put the words in another notes document, you might need them again, and move on.

Work that I feel doesn't have to be to my own standards, and can just exist, is easier to finish. Because it doesn't need to be the most beautiful, poetic, insightful, or even the most grammatically correct piece of writing on the pile. Sometimes you just have to write a guy standing still, or lying on his back, in the case of my recent Shahid fic.

Trying to convince myself the same for my next bg3 wip I've gone back to. That it doesn't have to be to my own standards, it just has to be done so I can enjoy writing the next thing, which I want to do.

📚 ⇢ what's the last thing you wrote down in your notes app? 

#1 below the cut: Okay so the actual last thing in my notes app is that someone in a discord server asked what your oc's tinder profile would be, and this is as far as I got (some not oc's). Because this is so humiliating, I'm sharing more.

The second last thing is blocked dialogue that turned into the Shahid fic.

#2 below the cut: The third last is blocked dialogue that will either never see the light of day or need to be completely rewritten between Étoile and Halsin. I'll share Halsin's first line / maybe the only one worth keeping.

The fourth last is blocked dialogue that is becoming my swtor fic.

#3 below the cut: The fifth last is blocked dialogue that may or may not become a fic between my oc Determination and bg3's rolan.

#1

Étoile: Looking for long term casual flings or partners. Faedolyn: Opinionated Av Claude: Lorenz: I am looking to fall in love. Must be willing to have a first date within 4 days of initial message to keep from wasting each other's time. 6'2 Hilda: Sylvain: Attention Deserves Healthy Distribution, and I will shower you in mine. Spontaneity. Seduction. Silliness? Let's share a drink and a laugh, and maybe something more.

#2

Part of me feared that you would return to Astarion and either of you would decide I was … too much. Regardless of whether you would continue to have a more … open relationship. I am presently relieved that is not the case. Although I admit my anxieties yet linger. It is no thoughtless habit that I have chosen to call you my heart, Étoile.

#3

Determination: I've come to say goodb— Rolan: Please stay. Determination: Rolan. Rolan: There have been several occasions where we were parted, where if it had been the last time, it would have been fine. We were strangers, or you thought I was an ass or I thought— Far less of you than I should have. Determination: Rolan— Rolan: Please. These past few weeks have meant the world to me. If you go back to Reithwin you will be taking my heart with you, I know it, and what good will I be here, with no passion to apply to magic, to life— Determination: You exaggerate— Rolan: Minna, please. I … I won't be able to rest, worrying you're unsafe. I won't be able to concentrate, imagining — Mystra preserve me — imagining another taking you to dinner, holding your hand, stroking your hair. Determination: I greatly enjoy your company Rolan, but for now, my passions lead me away. I can serve my God and her daughter. I can help a village in her name. I would not ask you go leave the Tower. Rolan: That's not fair. Determination: If the temple in Baldur's Gate has need of me, then I will return. Rolan: I— Determination: Don't. Rolan: I'm happy for you. Determination: I wish you meant that. Rolan: I am! I do. It's just that I've come to be so fond of you that I am losing myself. But I'll find the pieces. I will … be fine. Determination: You will. Rolan: Minna— Determination: Goodbye, Rolan.

#long post #ask to tag

[elisende]

Dark Gift

Characters: Halsin/OMC, Halsin/Ketheric, Wyll, Shadowheart, Volo  Rating: E Words: 3404

After a night of passion, Halsin and Langoth return to camp to find their companions have also made the most of the night's revelry.

But something is bothering the ranger and finally, he asks his lover Halsin about his past with the enigmatic Ketheric Thorm. There is always more to the story...

“Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness.

It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.”

Mary Oliver, The Uses of Sorrow

They did not sleep that night, the night that forever afterward Halsin would call their wedding night, only half-joking.  In silence as deep as the sky’s blackness, they watched the stars wheel and fade.  Held each other tightly on the stone table as the celebration in camp raged and then dwindled.  Listened to the small sounds of rustling animals and the first sweet notes of dawn’s chorus.  

“My favorite time of day,” he told Langoth.  “There’s no match for the dawnsong of high summer.  The finest symphony ever composed.”  

The ranger smiled, distantly.  “It reminds me of the first time,” he said, his voice so soft it was nearly below hearing.  “I had never experienced anything like it--like you.”

The morning light caught Langoth’s long, chestnut hair, gilding it, bathing his face in a warm golden glow.  Halsin’s breath caught in his throat.  He had been awestruck by the youth’s beauty that first night in the High Forest.  Just as he was now.

“Nor I you,” he said.  He took Langoth’s face in his hands and whispered roughly, uncouthly, “I want you again.”

The elf leaned into his embrace, breath hot on Halsin’s neck.  “Then take me.”

Halsin growled and straddled him, looming above the slighter man, his broad shoulders blocking the rising sun.  They were both still bare from the waist up and he raked his fingers down the ranger’s chest as he bent to kiss him ravenously.  Langoth gasped at the mingled sensation of Halsin’s rough hands and plunging kiss; his hips rose to brush the front of the druid’s pants, finding him already hard.  He ground up against him in slow, firm strokes, provoking a groan from deep in Halsin’s throat.

“You don’t realize what you do to me,” Halsin gasped.  “Gods.”

The youth just smiled as though he knew precisely his effect on the druid and pulled Halsin’s muscled ass closer to him and thrusting faster, harder.    

The feeling of Langoth’s own desire pressing and stroking against his own was nearly enough to finish him.  But before that could happen, Halsin grabbed him around the waist and flipped him onto his belly, jerking down his leather breeches as the elf moaned beneath him.  The birdsong around them was in full throated climax as he plunged into him, feeling the elf’s sublime tightness barely giving way to his thick cock.  Langoth exclaimed, in both pain and pleasure, as Halsin thrust mercilessly, driven by blind need.

“Langoth,” he murmured; he knew how his lover enjoyed hearing his own name on Halsin’s lips.  The ranger cried out in response and Halsin pulled him closer, wrapping his muscled arm around his chest.  In contrast to last night, his peak was building slowly, inexorably, like a wall rising stone by stone.  

The rising sun struck the table, bathing them both in an orange glow.  His lover was beautiful beneath him, his strong back rippling in the soft dawning light.  Halsin tracked the muscles with his hand and then slid it down below to stroke his member.  The ranger gasped, thrusting eagerly against his touch, and they moved as one.  

Langoth’s breath quickened, shoulders faltered.  As he felt his lover come, Halsin himself lost control; with one thrust, and then another, he finished, gasping, on the elf’s back.

The chorus had abated and the sun’s rays had mellowed.  Langoth sat up beside him, leaning close.  “We should get back before the others wake,” he said.

“I do hope Astarion hasn’t waited up for you,” Halsin said.  He didn’t even try to suppress his laughter, though he knew it was unkind.  

Langoth was more circumspect but a ghost of a smile played on his lips as he said, “I’m certain he had no shortage of other entertainments last night.”

No one stirred at the camp when they returned--no one, except--

“The hero returns!  Ah, and the wise and mighty king of druids, Master Halsin!  I’ve a new stanza to celebrate your victory, good sirs, only I struggle to find a word that rhymes with ‘muscular,’ and I feel I would be derelict in my sacred commission as bard and poet if I failed to mention Master Halsin’s particular, ah, physical qualities… and allusion simply doesn’t suffice, I don’t think, when it comes to his spectacular form!”

He thought he heard Langoth mutter, “It’s far too early for this.”  But it might have only been his imagination.

“Druids do not have kings,” Halsin explained to Volo, for at least the third time since they had met last week.  “And you needn’t talk about my, er, form.  Though I am flattered.”  

“Of course you and I know druids don’t have kings,” Volo said, as though Halsin were being quite stupid.  “But we need to remember our audience doesn’t have the sophistication required to understand the ‘first amongst equals’ principle espoused by the druids, et cetera.  Oh!  It’s so obvious.  ‘Muscle,’ singular--rhymes with ‘tussle.’  Perfection!”  Volo strummed a chord on his lute with a fervor that was frankly alarming and Halsin instinctively looked around for an exit.

“Right, I need to wash,” he said, heading for the river.  “Goodbye.”

“I also need to see to a--personal matter.  Gods keep you, Volo,” Langoth called behind his shoulder.  “I will remember how you left me out in the cold just now,” he added under his breath, even as the corner of his lips twitched.  Halsin’s heart lurched pleasantly and he turned his gaze back toward the rushing water of the Chionthar, already slipping out of his tunic.  

“I would aid you against any enemy in the deepest dungeon of the Underdark,” Halsin said.  “But you’re on your own with the bard.”

They bathed together in the rushing stream, Langoth capering on the rocks and diving into the deep pool under a cataract as Halsin watched.  The water was cold and bracing and Halsin couldn’t resist enjoying it in his bear form; there was simply no comparison to experiencing the icy rush of the river running through his thick fur.  He changed back once he emerged, dripping, onto the shore, Langoth close behind in his smallclothes.

“Someone was up late,” a smooth voice teased.  The Blade of the Frontiers emerged from his tent, wearing a lopsided grin and little else.  He had a bowl of streaky, grayish gruel that looked distinctly unappetizing.  But then, a human would eat nearly anything.

“Ah.  Did you... enjoy the celebration?” Langoth asked, color rising to his cheeks.  But then, from behind Wyll, the haughty cleric called Shadowheart emerged from the tent, cheeks even redder than Langoth’s, if it were possible.  Her lips were still stained purple from last night’s cheap wine.  Halsin’s head nearly throbbed in sympathy. 

“Evidently so,” Halsin remarked.  The young people were so obviously uncomfortable that he almost laughed.  But then he remembered his own tenderness and shame in his youth and his heart softened for them.  “Gods, but we’ve earned some respite, have we not?  And much still lies ahead.”

The others eagerly seized on this line of discussion and a profusion of enthusiastic, if stilted, comments followed about battles fought, foes defeated, and speculation of those still to come.  Halsin enjoyed seeing Langoth with his companions, his earnest expressions, the innocence of his words.  Finally, the young people extricated themselves from their rhetorical bondage and all sauntered off in different directions, Langoth grabbing his elbow as they went.  

The youth didn’t want to let him out of his sight and this, too, was touching.  He had all the hours of the day for his lover, whose face was a song of which he could never tire.  In contrast to Volo’s forced rhymes.

They laid their clothes to dry in a sunny spot by the river and Halsin rested beneath a friendly looking ash tree and closed his eyes.  He asked its name with a minute scratch of his thumb against the bark and it answered; a name that sounded like the rustling of acorns against one another in the mellowness of autumn.  A lovely name, one he committed to memory.  Halsin sighed, the sun warming his chest, grateful to be alive on such a day.  

“Are you just going to meditate now?”  Langoth’s voice came from leagues away.  Halsin opened his eyes.  “Only… I had a question.”

He regarded Langoth, ready for nearly anything.  

“You said before that you had defeated Ketheric but it seemed as though perhaps you knew him, once.  Do you--is there...?”  

“‘Is there more to the story?’ you mean?”

Langoth bit the inside of his cheek, mustering his nerve.  “Well, is there?”

Halsin leaned back against the ash who was named after a sound of acorns rustling, feeling every year of his five centuries.  “There is always more to the story,” he said.

“Tell me,” Langoth said softly, looking at his hands.  He sensed the story was troubling, and he was not wrong.  Halsin thought Langoth was probably rarely wrong when it came to troubling things.  They whispered to the secret wound he carried in his breast, like calling to like.  Halsin sighed.

“Of course I shall tell you if you wish to know,” he said.  And yet, even as he spoke the words, he was unsure if he should.  “It all began in Waterdeep,” he began.

*

Have you been?  Magic runs through that city, and I feel it in my marrow whenever I cross into its wards.  The city was built on a mountain of mithral, on the ashes of a forgotten citadel of Illefarn.  Ancient seams of blood and magic run beneath it.  You can hear it, like a ringing in your ears.

There was some reason for me to be there, but I barely recall it.  All I now remember is him.  And what came after, of course.

I spurned the inn, as I always do.  Too much comfort has always seemed suspicious to me, as have affections exchanged for coin.  Yet there is precious little nature left in Waterdeep, so I took my repose in a graveyard, under the open sky.  The only place in the city where one could find a tree.  

They were sad and lonely, those trees: a weeping willow, a scrawny, leafless box, and a twisted old yew.  The yew had gone mad from loneliness--yews are prone to madness in any case, but this one was particularly ill.  Perhaps that is why the priests of Shar claimed this particular graveyard for their rituals.  The yew had seeped its poison into the very ground and it was a dark and morbid place.  Full of shadows.  Now I wonder if the sick yew wasn’t in some indirect way the genesis of all that’s happened since.  

I watched them under the cover of a glamour so that I seemed to their eyes like a stone gargoyle warding a tomb.  They were initiating a half-elf and his terror carried on the wind.  I could smell it.  He was barely grown, undernourished.  His voice was strong though, and surprisingly deep, like the low roll of the tide coming in from the sea’s depths.  

I’ve been alive long enough to learn not to cast easy judgments.  Shar and her dark worship--what were such things to me?  Was it so different to swear oneself to the Dark One as it was to the Lady of Pain?  Or the Lord of the Dead?  But something in this ritual chilled me.  

It felt as though… this dark ritual had meaning beyond its meaning.  My mother had the gift of foresight and some little of it passed to me.  I cannot see the future as though I were watching a play, as she did.  But I can often sense danger, or tidings of happiness to come.  It’s kept me alive, more times than I can count, this gift.  And now, it filled me with dread.  The dread of a hundred kingdoms falling.  A dread worse than mere death or danger.  The dread of a coming apocalypse.

The half-elf turned and even in the gloom of the moonless night, I recognized his face.  For my mother had shown me this face when I was a boy, in the final moments of her life.  She met a violent end--but that, I will speak of another time.  I had believed she showed his face to me because he was my destiny.  But perhaps she showed me because he would be my doom. 

In my shock, the glamour slipped.  Only the half-elf saw me.  And I recovered so that when he turned back I was once again disguised as senseless stone.  

Perhaps that would have been the end of all if I had left it alone.  But destiny carves a path before itself, one we mortals are incapable of altering.  Such I have come to believe, though perhaps only as means to absolve myself.  

They completed their ritual by draining the youth of his blood, to the point of death.  And many do die.  But the half-elf did not, and Shar claimed another acolyte to her worship.  How peaceful he looked in that moment, on the precipice between life and death.  They bore him off on their shoulders into the night, leaving me with mad yew and my own dark thoughts.

The very next day I sought the Temple of Shar.  It’s no simple place to find, even in permissive Waterdeep.  Her worship is outlawed and her followers jailed when discovered.

You may well ask why I troubled myself.  Why I could not leave well enough alone, as the humans are wont to say.  I was compelled by both curiosity and dread.  

It is a strange thing to say aloud, but the image of the half-elf’s face was all I had left of my mother and even as it repelled me, I also felt closer again to her somehow in finding him.  I had to know the meaning behind it, to recover even this small remnant of her memory.  If you have lost someone, perhaps you understand my meaning.  

It took some days and many false turns but in the end, I located their temple.  Simple chance finally led me to the right direction--or destiny carving its path before me, take your pick.  

If I was worried about what I might say to the half-elf when I met him, I needn’t have, for he recognized me immediately.

“The gargoyle of a druid I saw,” he said, by way of greeting.  “So you weren’t a vision from my Dark Lady, after all.”

He always spoke like that.

I answered that I had seen the ritual, and feared for his life.  I asked how he had come into the service of the Dark Goddess and he told me his story.  It was a brutal, tragic tale, and he told it without remorse or sentimentality.  When again I pressed him--why did he devote himself to Shar?  He answered that none other had claimed him, only the Lady of Loss.  As though his life were simply a ripe apple falling senseless from a tree.

In my pride, I thought that by removing this youth from Shar’s faithful would heal him, that I could restore the balance to his soul.  That I could heal him.

I took him to the Emerald Grove.  The power of that place is ancient, its healing magic is more powerful than you ken.  Not just Silvanus’s power, though that resides there too.  I believed the grove would restore him and would avert the darkness that lay ahead.  

In how many legends to mortals hasten along the very events they sought to prevent?  Well, here is another.

For a time, I believed that Ketheric was healed.  The light returned to his eyes, the blood to his flesh.  By day, he walked the forest with me and I taught him such that I know: more than most will learn, but still precious little compared with the forest’s immensity.  Every tree is a world unto itself.

And I loved him.  Desired him.  Claimed him.  It blinded me to the truth.  For Shar would not be so easily forsaken.  She was jealous of her supplicants and for Ketheric she had great designs.  

I believed he had left Shar behind in distant Waterdeep.  In Ketheric, I thought I saw my destiny to bring him back into the light.  

Only arrogance and perhaps lovesickness can explain why it took me so long to realize why the forest grew darker over those seasons.  Parasites thrived and the trees fought silent battles within the buried paths beneath the earth.  Plants that once were allies became bitterest enemies and starved each other out, poisoning one another’s roots.  Pestilential insects devoured the warring plants.  Even the water was tainted, sickening creatures and the druids in my grove.

Kagha saw the truth first.  And if perhaps you wondered why I allowed her to stay, here is the reason.  Because Kagha’s heart may be as hard as ironwood, but she is unflinching in the face of the truth and I--well, now I know that I cannot always trust my own judgment.

She unmasked Ketheric, finally made me see, but by then it was too late.  He had seen the power of the grove, and he desired it for himself.  For his Dark Lady.  Ketheric escaped my judgment and Kagha’s wrath but I knew he would return.

Three years passed and in that time, Ketheric became a force.  More than a mere man.  He was a legend and followers flocked to him, drawn to his power.  More than power; his absence of fear.  For since that night that Shar had taken him, I had never once witnessed him frightened of anything.  That was the source of his terrible charisma, I believe, why people followed him into madness and marched to their deaths on his order, with happy hearts.  That they, too, could be so fearless.  

He took the Temple of Selune first.  The priests there fought hard and long but Ketheric would not be thwarted and his forces seemed limitless.  The stories are still told of the terrible butchery committed in the Shattered Sanctum, and I will not repeat them.  

They rode out from the Shattered Sanctum to terrorize the country.  That is when we first spoke of the Rite of Thorns, for there was no question of protecting the surrounding land from Ketheric’s army.  Then the Harpers came.

I could tell you all manner of stories about the long history of the Harpers and the Emerald Grove, but those romances only imply the true foundation of that ancient alliance: one born of dire necessity against unassailable darkness.   Which is all to say, the Harpers and the Druids have joined when all seemed lost.

So it seemed to us then.  With the power of the Shattered Sanctum and an army of faithful, Ketheric completed a dark ritual, one that required a fountain of blood sacrifice.   The Shadow Curse.  A plague on the land and all that lived there, committing their souls into bondage to Shar.

He completed the ritual and cast the land into darkness before I could finally end him.  I held him as he died, and he looked just as he did on the night in the Waterdeep graveyard.  At peace, finally, in the arms of his Goddess.  The only one he ever truly loved, I still believe.  

That fight nearly took my life.  As for the others, I marched them to their graves.  Of all the druids and Harpers who fought on that day none survived.  A handful of Ketheric’s dark justiciars escaped, scattered.  Of those, all have fallen to madness or early deaths.  

Only I now remain witness to the horrors of that long night.  

*

Halsin found it hard to hold his lover’s gaze for shame.  Now he knew of his failure, his blindness.  He would scorn him, as Kagha had: weak, arrogant, feckless.

Instead, Langoth took his hand in his own, kissing his rough knuckles.  Forgiveness so sublime, so unexpected that his eyes pricked with unshed tears.  

“You did what you could.  And we will end the curse when we reach Moonrise Towers.  That I promise you.”

Halsin closed his eyes.  “Thank you.”  In the wood a thrush sang, as though to remind him of something he had long forgotten.  Something like hope.

#halsin #bg 3 #baldur's gate 3 #fanfic #halsin/omc #bg 3 halsin #wyll #shadowheart #langoth

[timeforelfnonsense]

Mistress Wit

Wyll x Criella

Rating: T 

Ao3

With Patch 3 out now, I decided to make another bg3 oc to romance Wyll! Dafni will still be the main character so to speak of my bg3 writing with Criella serving as a secondary protag & member of the party in Sunshine and Starlight. She and Wyll will also be getting their own little collection with Dafni & Astarion serving a similar role! However, as my writing is pretty ship centered you wouldn't really need to read one to enjoy the other!

                                                     Prologue

Criella brought her hands above her head, fists pounding against the transparent shield that kept her snuggly trapped in the mind flayer pod. If she could just find a weak spot…

Ah-ha!

It was faint but, Criella spotted a hairline fracture in the upper right portion of the glass. Perfect. Her tail dipped into the worn leather bag strapped to her thigh seeking her tinker’s tools. If she could just find her mallet she’d be able to shatter the glass and free herself from her confines. She reached for the top of her head, pulling her goggles over her eyes. With one precise strike, the mallet made contact with the pod’s lid. What had started as a single small fracture now spread across the whole surface in a spiderweb of spits and breaks. Carefully, her fingertips traced the somatic symbol needed to cast a gust cantrip.

“Ventus!” With the command spoken a small tempest broke free of her palms sending shards of glass flying across the clearing.

Her boots hit the ground with a soft thunk, the collateral of her escape crunching beneath her feet. She scanned her surroundings nose wrinkling with repugnance. This was definitely not Waterdeep. She’d crashlanded in some sort of hinterlands located god knows where. She brought her fingertips to her temples rubbing away the tension with little circles. She needed to locate civilization and quickly. It was only a matter of time before the dangerous effects of the tadpole squirming behind her eye would manifest.

She dug around her bag until her hand found its target. A spyglass forged of brass, runes of her creation glowing across the tarnished cylinder. Pushing her googles back up, she pressed the scope to her eye looking out into the forest. Her mind tingled, the Spyglass of Clairvoyance reveling a small settlement nestled in a nearby grove. It was no city of splendor but it was a lead. The only one she had anyway. Perhaps, whoever called the grove home would be able to point her towards the nearest healer if they didn’t have one of their own. Her body ached from the top of her horns to the tip of her tail. Even if they couldn’t see to the parasite they could ease the discomfort of being crammed into a pod had caused.

----------

Criella sat atop a traveler’s chest, her tail flicking idle from side to side. The groves healer had just set out alongside a mercenary band just recently. Meaning her only choice was to doodled among the druids until their Master Halsin returned. She let out a huff of air, blowing away a stray strand of straight, lilac hair from her eyes. If someone were asked to rattle off a list of locations they might find Criella Wit of Waterdeep, a druid’s grove would certainly not have been among them. She’d never been one for nature’s charms. Given the choice between a bustling market or a quiet glen, Criella would have picked the crowded walkways and noisy rabble of the city to the glen every time. At least she was among kin. All around her other Tieflings mulled about weary faced as they set to packing up what little they had. Criella’s gloved fingertips tapped out an anxious rhythm on the side of the chest. Criella knew better than most that right and wrong could be terms with objective definitions. But turning out helpless refugees and children? That was wrong by every definition. She had sat in Zevlor’s quarters discussing the events that lead his people to take refuge among The Oak Father’s servants. They had come from Eturel originally- Collateral damage in the wake of post-Decent xenophobia. People who had once been treasured friends and neighbors became easy scapegoats for the suffering Elturel’s people experienced in the hells. Her grip on the chest tightened. Were it not for the black leather gloves her pointed fingernails would certainly have left a mark on its suede surface. Well, if the druids weren’t going to help she would. She pulled out a well-weathered note pad and nub of charcoal. She could adapt her design for the Protector canon with relative ease. She’d have to find a way to streamline and simplify it given her the groves appalling lack of anything metal. What she wouldn’t do for steel and iron! Perhaps their smith would have some to spare though she doubted it by the state of his forge. “What are you drawing?” a tiny sing-song voice asked. Criella glanced up from her work. A little tiefling girl of no more than 10, was staring owlishly over the edge of her notebook. Criella’s lips quirked, tuning the book so the girl could get a better look at her scribblings. “It’s a diagram of an Eldritch Canon. I’ve made hundreds of the things but today I’m working on one just for you and your friends. To keep you safe.” She explained, tapping the tip of her finger to the sketch, “It’s sort of a… a mechanical cleric! If anyone gets hurt on the road it might be able to help.” “You can make that?” The child whisperer reverently. “I can make anything.” Criella winked, “Just give time and the right tools.” “Could you teach me?” She asked, her lower lip quivering ever so slightly, “I want to be able to make anything! I want to help! I’m not good at fighting or sneaking like the others maybe I’m good at making things!” Criella let out a chime of warm laughter. The little girl’s eyes were full of wonder and optimism despite all she and her kin had endured recently. She’d too had been more interested in tomes and tinkering as a girl. While her peers were swinging sticks and imagining themselves as knights and guardsmen, little Ella would climb the tallest tree in the yard and name it Blackstaff Tower. “Well I can’t teach you how to make everything in just one day but, I can show you a few things.” Criella brought her hand to her lips, sharp teeth tugging the grove from her left hand. With a heartfelt smile she extended her hand to her would-be apprentice, “They call me Misstress Wit of Waterdeep but since we are friends, you can call me Criella.”

Wyll walked the length of the makeshift training ground. Adjusting postures and offering up every word of tender engorgement he knew. The tiefling children had been ecstatic to meet a ‘real-life hero’, bombarding him with sweet, curious questions the moment he stepped through the gate. After such a warm welcome teaching a few sparing lessons while he waited for Halsin to return, was the least he could do. These children had already witnessed more than many noble old men would in their whole lives. They should have been chasing frogs, enjoying their childhoods without fear. Not training for battles they couldn’t win. Despite the cheerless nature of his thoughts, Wyll put on his warmest, bordering on a fatherly grin. “Not bad! Not bad! Now, remember not to keep yourself so open.” He instructed demonstrating his instruction for a little boy with rusty hair, “Like this.” “Keep it up little one. You’ll be a fine warrior one day!” A lovely voice called. The gentle, golden timbre belonged to a statuesque tiefling woman. Wyll’s heart sputtered a bit when her soft silver eyes fell across his face. A dazzling smile on her rose-petal pink lips. Walking beside her was a child- Nalia, the little girl with a missing horn. He’d invited her to spar but she’d only blushed and ran off. “Wyll! I look at what I made!” Nalia shouted dragging the pretty-pink woman along behind her. When she reached the ring she pulled free a small metal gadget no bigger than her palm. The steal contraption glowed with a soft purple light. It’s slivery surface marked with an inscription: Be Brave, scrawled in infernal. “Aren’t you clever!” He said crouching down to admire her handiwork, “What is it?” “It’s an eldritch canon!” She rolled her eyes as if it were the most obvious thing in the world The woman stifled a giggle, covering her grin with the back of her gloved hand. “Is that safe?” He asked cocking an eyebrow at the smirking beauty. “Yes! think of it as a mechanical cleric, Wyll!” Nalia said winking at her companion, “I’m going to be an artificer just like Mistress Wit!” “That’s right!” Wit nodded, “I think you’ve done enough work for today apprentice. Go on, take the rest of the day off...” As Wit trailed off a strange feeling began to unwind in Wyll's mind. The sights and smells of an unfamiliar harbor city danced across his senses. He could almost feel the sea breeze on his face. He saw a workshop so organized and meticulous it reminded him of his time with The Fist. He felt the uneven surface of cobbles stone under his feet as he tore after a thief, tears stinging at his eyes as the hooded figure mad off with the last project he and a half-drow woman had planned before she left. Lastly the memory of being confined to a pod and dragged to the hells. Wit blinked back at him dazed. Her slender nose wrinkled, her lips turned down in a worried grimace. “We should talk.”

Criella sat across from the Wyll at a shabby picnic table, poking at her gruel with a wooden spoon. The old woman had called it vegetable soup but remind her too much of the oil she used for in some of her machines to be palpable. “Not much for stew eh?” He teased taking a long sip of his bowl, “You haven’t spent much time in the wilds, have you?” “I am I that obvious?” she giggled, “I’m from Waterdeep- I’ve lived there all my life. Not much work out here in the woods for someone in my line of work.” Wyll tilted his head, bringing his chin to rest along the top of his knuckles, “Oh? And what is your line of work Wit?” He hadn’t heard of her? How strange. She was something of an arcane darling back home. If you asked someone where to inspired spellwork or magical mending. If they had any sense they would give you one answer: Wit and Wander. Well- Just Wit since Zoria had left for Neverwinter with her new wife…. “I’m many things; wizard, artificer, genius. Take your pick.” Wyll chuckled raising his tankard in approval of her assuredness, “Impressive.” “And what about you Wyll?” She said playfully, “Let me guess? You are a soldier. Mercenary? No, you are too upstanding to be a sellsword.” “They call me the Blade of the Frontiers.” He stated with a proud nod before continuing “Monster hunter. Hero. Protector of the common folk.” “The Blade of Frontiers? Now that’s a name!” She whistled, “And I thought Misstess Wit was a clever epithet! Now tell me Blade- How did you find yourself aboard the nautiloid?” Before he could respond the sound of a war horn rang out across the grove. Zevlor sprinting past them as shouting about a goblin siege at the front gate. Both adventures sprung to their feet as panic spread among the refugees. “Alright Blade.” Criella purred pulling her storm canon from the holster at her hip, “Let see if you live up to the legend.”

#bg3 oc #Wyll #elf writes #bg3 early access #Criella Wit