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flymmsy · 5 months

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(flag: pregnancy, angst)

Durge who was pregnant with Gortash’s child pre-tadpole.

Durge who didn’t realize until just before the crowning of the brain. They’re terrified of what this means and how it defies Bhaal, but also (to their own personal horror) they are…happy?

Durge who smothers it all down and tells themself they’ll decide how to deal with this after the crowning because they cannot be distracted during the raid. But, of course, their mind is reeling.

Gortash who senses something is off as they are preparing for the raid. He’s snappier than usual because so much is riding on this, and a part of Durge desperately wants to tell him but knows it isn’t the right time.

Durge who is surprised to see ‘Gortash’ during the raid when they knew he should be taking a different corridor.

‘Gortash’ who gets attacked by a mind flayer in front of Durge.

Durge who saves ‘Gortash’ and is overwhelmed with a burst of emotion. Against their better judgment, Durge blurts out that they’re pregnant.

‘Gortash’ who is, of course, Orin, having a thousand thoughts race through her mind all at once.

Orin who did not actually intend to kill Durge in that moment, who was really just trying to mess with them by turning into Gortash. But now, faced with this revelation, her mind spins. It is the ultimate betrayal of Bhaal- the creation of life instead of the destruction of it. The one exception to that rule was to create more Bhaalspawn - but this child would be of Bane. It is unforgivable.

Orin who only realizes what she is doing halfway through tearing Durge apart.

Gortash who never knew about his child.

#durgetash (flymmsy's version)#tempted to write this full length paired with a saucy breeding kink beginning what a rollercoaster #also I think this explains why Orin scrambles as Chosen #because her betrayal of Durge was more spur of the moment #no time to think things through #I imagine Orin ensures the baby would not be a problem #even after Durge is dead #enver gortash #durgetash #orin the red #durge #the dark urge #bg3 #bg3 headcanons #tw: pregnancy #flymmsy sibling relationships

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thywheelof-fate · 5 months

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I know you said you will not elaborate but pls elaborate I just know that if I was Durge seeing Ketheric being such a dedicated father when mine is...yeah the worst I would collapse.

Ketheric: lol,i betrayed shar for some quasi-god to have my daughter back and even if she hates me idc I still have her letter in my pocket all the time. Bhaal: *order your sister to kill you,even when you were like doing THE plan to make him powerful again*

ok ok I will elaborate just for you, beloved anon

To Durge, Bhaal's- and therefore a father's- love is something not freely given, something used to justify pain and hurt and suffering, something that seeps into every cell they have and chokes them out.

Then there is Ketheric- who loves his daughter deeply, despite her hatred. A man whose love grasps at forgotten echoes and wants to hug that little girl, not choke her. Ketheric, whose morals are based around his child, who has a child that he does not bend and break around his morals (he wishes she were by his side, but that is because she is his own).

A man who frets. Who worries. Who grieves. Who does this without expecting that child to pay back the debt of raising them.

Seeing this would tear them apart, but they wouldn't be able to articulate why. They'd assume that Thorm is too soft, too weak, too unambitious. Still part of them grieves. Still part of them wonders.

And then there is Enver- whose love feels like Bhaal's, but there is something else, too. A sense of respect, of admiration that is not a one way street. Suddenly it is not so bad to choke, so long as the hand wrapped around their throat will caress their face afterwards. Enver knows they like it. He can see it in their eyes, feel it in the tips of his fingers that were scorched by hellfire and betrayal when he was still a child. He sees Bhaal's love and forces his own over it, smothering it as much as he could.

Love and power and lust blend together. The power part is key: Enver still has a bit of control over them, or at least he likes to pretend to and the Dark Urge allows it. They admire him, so they must admire the way he treats them, no? That's how it always has been with Bhaal.

They worship Bhaal, so they must worship the way Bhaal treats them. Bhaal loves them, so Bhaal must love the way He treats them.

So, in summary. Seeing Ketheric causes Durge to acknowledge and work through their daddy issues a bit. Seeing Enver causes Durge to acknowledge their daddy issues and also spiral deeper into them, thanks to some crossed wires.

#rahhh this is a little rough but you get the idea #the dark urge #enver gortash #ketheric thorm #durgetash #the dark urge x enver gortash #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #asks

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alpydk · 19 days

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Cabinet of Oddities (Part 21)

This is all written now so I'm going to be putting out the parts over the next few days. Expect some angst, humour, and tears over the last 9 chapters...

Summary: Fuck Mystra.

Ao3 Link

The following day Nana’s face beamed with happiness in the most unlikely of locations. The route to Kethric had been dark and the walls lined with the veins of the mind flayer tendrils which smothered the tunnels. “I could hold your hand and fire an arrow with the other. Pew pew.” She’d barely taken her eyes off Gale since their night together, and the two had traversed together closely as if the rest of the party had ceased to exist.

“You could do that, but might I suggest a better alternative? I hold your hand and then a simple mage hand conjuration aids you in the firing of your arrows.” He gave a playful smile and she tittered lovingly.

Shadowheart sighed. “Is this what we are going to be travelling with now? Save it for when we reach the city at least.”

“You can talk. We know what you’ve been up to with Karlach. Hey, maybe we could do a double date!” Nana’s eyes lit up at the idea. “We could get fancy clothes and go out for the night.”

Wyll cut in with a serious tone, breaking the mood. “Everyone, I think this is it.”

In front of them stood a large fleshy seal, its binding almost appearing to be stitched into position. It opened with a squelch and Nana’s face scrunched up in disgust. “This place is gross.”

“Shh.” Shadowheart hissed as the door opened.

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Nana stood looking at the distant figures, the chosen of the dead three. She could hear whispers in her mind, and a faint itch under her skin like that of something trying to get out. A changeling? Why do I feel you here? Bhaal’s chosen. So that’s who you were. Did you choose it like she has? Or were you used, like me?

“Look at that crown…” Nana barely heard Gale’s voice as he spoke, the murmurs of Thomas plaguing her system. How are you here? Get out.

Gale continued to speak but it was as if his voice was a distant echo. She could only feel the creeping fury, the hunger for the kill. She clenched her eyes shut and tried to focus on the words, trying to shift the intrusive thoughts that kept creeping into her mind “...If only I could…” Listen to him. Do not allow yourself to be controlled again.

“But I can’t…This is it. I must do as Mystra commands.” The words caught Nana’s attention and she spun on her heels to confront him. She tried to shake the lingering rage, but it spilt over into her words,

Her tone was short, and she knew it was not the pleasing words of love she had spoken to him the previous night. She wanted to tell him to choose her, to choose love but had little time to react to the disdain that tumbled out so freely. “No. Fuck Mystra.”

Gale was taken aback by her expression, a mixture of anger and confusion on his face. “But I have no choice. Whole worlds hang in the balance.”

“You always have a choice. But for once choose your fucking self.” Nana turned to face away from him. She didn’t want him to experience the violent thoughts that were so close to bubbling over. She didn’t want to see the look of hurt and guilt on his face. Stop it, Thomas! Leave him alone.

Once Kethric was alone Nana began to approach him, the others following behind. She relinquished herself to the dark urges remembering very little of what occurred shortly after, only the sensations of satisfaction as the blood spilt. Oh, how I’ve missed us.

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The battle ended with the death of Kethric, the avatar of Myrkul. Gale had resisted the detonation of the orb, not on hearing Nana’s words but on the look that Shadowheart had given him, one of deep concern for him as a good friend. They would’ve died alongside me. He’d fought the battle thinking only of the survival of his comrades and as Myrkul fell, he felt the wave of physical and emotional fatigue hit him. He focussed his mind on the crown he’d witnessed hoping to move on quickly from near-death experience, hoping he would not have to face the guilt of what he had just put them all through. It would have been so easy.

He watched as Wyll gathered up the stone from Kethric’s armour, as Shadowheart cleared the blood from her spear, as Nana stood staring at the spot where the chosen three had vanished. He slowly approached her, placing a reluctant hand on her shoulder. “Nana…”

“You almost…” She was quiet, refusing to look up at him. “I love you, but don’t ever do that again.”

He saw the deep sadness and hurt in her eyes and pulled her into his arms. She stayed there for some time before they left the mind flayer tunnels and returned to the Shadowlands. He didn’t have the words to explain any of what had happened, choosing instead to try and encourage her and himself with information about the crown. He wondered how much she heard as he spoke of the Netherese artefact, of what it could mean to them. Each time he would glance over at her, but she would seem distracted, clearly as tired as he too felt. “...shopping.”

She lifted her head, having missed what he had been talking about. “Huh?”

He took her hand in his, touching the blemishes of skin rubbed away from her bowstring. “It’s not particularly important at this moment. We’ll discuss it further after we have both taken some well-earned rest.”

--------------------------------------------

Nana barely slept that night. She had hoped the battle would have been enough to wear her down and yet her mind raced. She’d been lying next to Gale for some time and yet the touch of his skin against hers had infuriated her. Don’t die, please don’t die. She knew he would have detonated the orb if they hadn’t changed his mind and the idea of his death turned itself over and over. She wanted to shout at him and call him selfish for not thinking of her, of not believing in himself but knew at the same time that this was all ridiculous. That he was lying right next to her, and she loved him, that he was alive, and he wouldn’t leave her. Sweet little mask… She quietly crept from the bed making sure not to wake him and wrapped his purple robe around herself, leaving the room trying to find some place where she could find a semblance of peace.

She moved to the docks near the inn where she watched the ripples in the water. The shadow curse was slowly fading and the world around them was revealing small details she had not noticed before. She watched as the lanterns seemed to glow brighter than before and a subtle breeze had started to blow the ragged flags that hung from the rooftops.

“Fuck Mystra? That’s what you went with, darling?” Astarion approached her with spring in his step. “Wyll was kind enough to tell me everything and it seems I missed all the drama.”

She looked up at him, the rings under her eyes obvious for all to see, a vivid bruise settled on her cheek. “Astarion, this isn’t a good time.”

He took a seat next to her ignoring her words. “Fuck Mystra… Gods, Gale’s face must have been a sight. We’ve all thought it, love, but to say it out loud?”

She brushed her hair from her face. “It was wrong of me. I shouldn’t have-”

“But you did.”

She felt the annoyance as he interrupted her. Why does he always show up like this? Maybe we could kill- Shut up.

“I know I’m one to talk, but you seem much paler than normal.” Something inside her did not want the concern. It scoffed at the sound of Astarion’s voice, and she bit her tongue at the comments she wanted to offload.

She sighed deeply, denying the voice of Thomas that hissed to her. “Do you ever just get the feeling that no matter what you do you can’t escape your past?”

“All the time, darling,” he said.

The two spent some time in silence, looking out over the water. Nana was appreciative of his company and for once he kept his comments to himself.

---------------------------------

Gale packed his bag, placing the journal to one side. He’d considered placing the letter inside it for Nana to find at a later date but now that the time of his expected demise had come and gone, he felt this was unnecessary. He tossed it into the nearby fireplace watching the flames devour it from the centre out. There would be no more need for such letters anymore.

He peered over to Nana who lay sleeping on the bed. He’d felt her come back shortly before the sounds of the tieflings left, waking the rest of the inn, and yet somehow, she had not noticed. He chose to let her sleep, collecting up the journal and his pack and sitting in a nearby chair to read.

More things I’ve learnt about him.

He’s strong. Stronger than all of us

He’s brave, He says what he believes and stands by it

He has a good heart always wanting to help others

He knew about me for longer than he lets on

He never judged me

I’ll miss him when he leaves.

Gale took out a quill and ink from his bag before dipping the nib lightly and adding to the list. The ink flowed without hesitation onto the page; You are his moon and star.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 gale #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale bg3 #galemance #bg3 fanfiction #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #fuck mystra #every comment helps

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truly-sincerely · 3 months

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Dark Star Falling (part 5 of ?)

“You can’t even be cross with me. My brain’s a wreck and it’s not like you know where Bhaal’s temple is either,” Darling’s voice cuts thru the silence without warning. He turns in his chair to look at them but they’re already on the other side of the table from him, pulling a different chair out. The guards all stand stock still, waiting for his command.

“You look–”

“Yeah, I know,” they wipe at the blood spatter on their face with an equally bloody glove, but it’s already dry. “We just got back from Avernus. Anyway, I actually did find the temple, I just don’t know how to get inside yet. I know where to go to get inside, but then something came up and one thing led to another…”

“Where’s your friend?,” he asks.

“Rifling thru the pockets of the dead patriars in your throne room,” they reply. Astarion is at the Elfsong, complaining about getting briefly killed by a devil to anyone who will listen, but Gortash doesn’t need to know that.

“I seem to recall you saying you wouldn’t return empty-handed.” Darling tosses a helmet onto the table. Gortash raises an eyebrow, “That’s not a netherstone.”

“It’s a souvenir,” they say with a smirk. He picks it up and turns it over in his hands. Darling swings their feet up onto his desk, heels crumpling a map of Baldur’s Gate. They are wearing different boots than their first late night visit. Some other fashionable changes, as well, but it’s clear that they want him to notice the boots.

The helmet and the boots are from a matching set. He knows, because the boots were in his footlocker until recently, and the helmet was, as far as he knew, still where the boots should’ve been before he’d stolen them a long time ago. In fact, those exact boots had been indispensable in his original escape from that place. Did Darling know? They hadn’t known before they lost their memory, so how could they now? But watching them, he can tell from their demeanor that they do. It hangs in the air for a moment.

“You went to the House of Hope. Impressive, of course, but not what you ought to be spending your limited time on.” He tosses the helmet back. “Wouldn’t your immense talents be better spent saving the sword coast from the impending rampage of our naughty elder brain?”

“I’m on a journey of self-discovery. What’s the point of saving the sword coast if I lose myself in the process.”

“Since when are you a poet?”

“I’m a bard, Enver.” For a moment he can’t breathe, hearing his name from their lips. He manages to smother the feeling as they continue, “There was this sweet girl in the druids’ grove. A tiefling like me. She played the lute and we played together and I tapped into the weave and I’ve been doing psychic damage to everyone I meet ever since. Don’t give me that look. I’m still a killer. My talents are still immense.”

“You were a paladin of Bhaal,” he offers.

“No kidding,” they flare their nostrils and laugh. A different laugh, or, has he ever even heard them laugh before? “I get the impression I was a hammer and all of my problems were nails.”

“You were magnificent.”

“I still am,” they say, their mouth pulling to the side. Their gaze drifts to the arbalest on the table. His stays on them. “I was scared at first, and angry. I had to learn how to talk to people. I needed different skills. After the lobotomy. After the worm. With a different… partner. Partners. So now I’m a poet.”

First - Previous - Next

#dark star falling #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #durgetash #durge #gortash #probably gonna continue this scene #I had to restart the house of hope cuz Raphael was kicking my ass too hard and I need Gale #but then I started writing during a break #and here we are #I was like is this IC for gortash usually he does a lot more talking #but then I remembered that in game I am a blankslate protagonist who can't have real opinions about things #so in private #Darling kind of rolls over Gortash and I'm okay with that #did some edits on feb1

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theknightartorias · 5 months

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oc ask: desire & fear for riele

desire: What's one thing your OC wants more than anything in the world? Are they open with that desire? Why or why not? What would they do to fulfill it? whether he admits it to himself or not, whether he even lets himself be conscious of it or not, all he's ever wanted is a family, a home, a sense of belonging, a life he can choose for himself. and it DOES take a long time for him to feel safe enough to even entertain these thoughts that he kept smothered for so long, because to do otherwise was to face bhaal's ire. and when the choice comes to continue living under his father's lash or die--well, he chose to die than be forced into that life again. (thank u PEEPAW WITHERS for coming in clutch) fear: What is your OC's greatest fear? What do they do when confronted with it? Are they open with their fear, or do they hide it away? given how he was forced to kill at least one of his foster families (and i headcanon it happened a few times, every time bhaal using it as a way to assert his ownership over riele), he's terrified of getting close to people lest he be forced to hurt them again. (i think this is why he was able to get close to gortash--with bhaal's alliance with bane, and as bane's chosen, gortash was off limits for the murdery stuff LOL.) he holds onto this fear even post-amnesia because the trauma from his childhood was still buried deep in his mind, so he's very closed off to everyone until astarion starts his manipulative seduction scheming LOL (they end up being emotionally constipated and mutual pining around each other for way too long smh) thank u for the ask!!! 😊

#edeer #oc: riele #these are such good durge questions aaaaaaa

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recitedemise · 11 days

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you awake to gale's hand trembling on your chest. tonight makes it twice in a tenday. he seeks your heartbeat, any and all of what bhaal ripped away with the cruel casualty of gods from both of you that day. guilt lashes your heart worse than your dread father could have accomplished. he didn't know where to strike.

ao help the lord of murder had he.

"just a bad dream. i'm right here. see," atop your chest, your hand comes to rest, capturing gale's between your palm and the slow, steady pace of your harrowed heart, "that's your doing, gale. you keep it alive."

It wasn't that long ago. Even ten summers, he imagines, would leave it ghosting and all too near. There, Gale had witnessed your death, watched as you bled a springtime slaughter. Every gasp had been shuddering and every croak had rung loud, and every crashing of his heart had sounded like a choir, a funerary bell toll in a church at night. You had crumpled at the altar, wrung pale and phantomish. And there in that moment stood smothered in grief, Gale felt inside him his very soul die--to rot and corpse and wasted dreams.

He sees it now. His fingers tightly curl.

And when your voice in his head hums a pained 'I love you,' Gale, through his tears, blinks awake.

Oh. Alive. That sound... It's so remarkably, impossibly pretty. The wizard breathes, stirring to behold you for all your worth. Your words fill his bones, billowing like hearth-song or the stirring of dawn. Your legs are carded tenderly, your hands tangled on your chest, and in more ways than one, you're both inconceivably corded. Gale, the dear thing, croaks a laugh. "With your charms--" it's wet, raw, and warm "--I wager you could nearly stop mine." Gods. "There's no world you could go where my heart wouldn't follow." To every layer of hell and those unknowable places... Leaning in, Gale noses desperately at the curve of your neck. "But if it's all the same to you, it would like to enjoy you here for a great deal longer." The wet of face presses on your skin.

#MINDHALLOW #ASK.#Me remember u telling me wish's last message wifid to gales brain #so fucked up #IM SO..#gale waking up a bit misty eyed and just wanting to hold him close like he cant be torn away that way #oh.ohdjsj. :))

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