#i killed the goblins in baldurs gate *looks away*

[ncteez]

HI HALLOWEEN HON I LOVE U AND UR SO CUTE AND CAN I HOLD UR HAND PLEASE THANKS 🫶

for a second i was like who tf is this stranger asking to hold my hand then i saw that it was u and i am currently extending my hand and forehead for u

#ily i miss u #i stg ive been gone for a while and ;o; everybody changing their users got me so confused #homerunhansol #goblinvern #JKFHJDSK #GOBLIN VERNON LMAO #i killed the goblins in baldurs gate *looks away* #[mail] #:D

[leemacher]

You're Enough For Me | Astarion x Gn!Tav!Reader

Summary: Shortly after making it to Baldur's Gate, a moment alone with Halsin reveals how he truly feels about you. In talking to Astarion, you realize the true extent to which his time with Cazador affected him, and his relationship with you. OR In which you and Astarion have a conversation about you rejecting Halsin because I don't like that you can't bring that moment up unless you imply that you said yes to Halsin

Word Count: 2,343

Content: fluff, slight angst, mentions of sex, Astarion's trauma, established relationship

Sliding down a tree trunk to sit, resting against it, you didn’t even begin to take in the river before you. Instead, you closed your eyes for the first time in what felt like days. Listening to the river rushing by you and the birds chirping around you, with a deep breath in your muscles began to relax. 

For once there were no goblins or shadow monsters to watch out for, there were no cultists trying to kill you or the gods chosen to deal with, and no one needed saving. In that moment it was you and the calm, peaceful world around you.

Unfortunately, like all good things, your perfect serene world melted away at the sound of light footsteps behind you.

“If you're here to kill me, bargain with me, or ask for a favor, come back tomorrow. I’m taking the night off.” At your voice, the footsteps abruptly stopped, and instead came a laugh that you would know anywhere.

Astarion moved to stand next to your sitting form, leaning up against the tree on his side. “Darling, if that was your attempt at intimidation it needs some work.”

You found yourself chuckling with a light smile before looking up at him. “Maybe you can teach me.”

He hummed, casting his eyes towards the river. Taking the moment to admire his features, as you often found yourself doing in moments like these as of late, you couldn’t help but wonder how you had gotten lucky enough to be involved with someone like him. No matter how often you knew he thought himself unworthy of your affection, or any affection really, you felt the exact opposite.

This man who had been through so much, fought for so long, had chosen you. Astarion’s past was one both of you battled nightly, so while you didn’t know all of the little details, you knew enough to understand how deeply his time with Cazador affected him. How much of himself he had lost. The idea that what little of himself he had left he was willingly given to you sent shivers up and down your spine every time you thought about it. He chose to be vulnerable with you, he was open with you, eventually, and he could find safety and comfort in your presence. You were definitely the lucky one.

“C’mon, love.” His voice brought you out of your thoughts. By the look on his face, you could tell he had been thinking of the same things.

Grabbing his hand and pulling yourself up and towards him, the two of you began your walk back to camp. Tomorrow you would finally reach the city, and all of the chaos and stress would fall right back onto your shoulders. Tonight though? Tonight you were going to lie down, curled into Astarion’s side, and have the best sleep you’ve had since this nightmare had begun.

 Filing back into camp after a long day of wandering around the city, you couldn’t help but feel joy when you saw Gale making something over the fire out of a few ingredients he had bought during the day. It had been a while since any of you have had food that didn’t just consist of whatever animal you had come across during your journey.

Setting your things down, the first thing you noticed was that most of your companions hadn’t come back yet. Only you, Shadowheart, Gale and Halsin had had their fill of the city it would seem.

While sorting through the items you had bought and… well, not bought, a hand landed on your shoulder and you jumped in fright. Whipping around you came face to face with Halsin, who had a guilty look upon him.

“Sorry, I did not mean to scare you.”

Laughing it off, you shook your head and pulled yourself together. “It’s fine, Halsin. Is there something you needed?”

He nodded, then. “I’d like to talk to you about something actually.” Nodding for him to continue, you watched as the man who stood strong in the face of everything you had faced together became somewhat nervous, though no less serious.

“I never quite realized how burdened I was, until I met you. The threat of the shadow curse, the politics of the grove.” He trailed off for a moment before regaining his words as you tried to figure out where this conversation was leading. “I was forgetting who I was, but you lifted the fog. Thank you”

You smiled, softly. It seemed everyone in camp had a habit of thanking you for things they did all on their own, albeit with a little support. “I wouldn’t claim to be responsible for all of the things you’ve accomplished, but you’re welcome nonetheless.”

At your words, he laughed lightly in what seemed to be disbelief. “You’re too modest. I wager you don’t even know how extraordinary you truly are. But I do.” Your heart felt as if it had stuttered in your chest. He wasn’t implying… Was he? “I have lived a very long time. I have taken many lovers. My heart does not stir lightly, but it does now.”

Oh. He was. A thousand thoughts swam through your head. Thoughts of Halsin and the moments between the two of you at the party after the grove, of the feelings you had felt grow slightly at his willingness to risk everything, do anything, in order to remove the curse over the shadowlands and restore Thaniel to his former self. “What are you saying, exactly?” Your words came out in a shocked breath, no doubt picked up on by the man before you.

“I want more than to fight by your side, or to sit around a campfire with you.” His hands reached out slowly and hesitantly for yours. “I want to lay with you under the stars and feel your skin against mine. And I think you feel the same way, but tell me I’m wrong and the matter can rest. I do not wish to sour our friendship, but I have to know if it can be something more.”

With a slow sigh, you closed your hands around Halsin’s, thoughts ultimately landing on Astarion and the connection the two of you shared. “I won’t lie and tell you that I don’t feel as you do. Your kindness and resilience in all we’ve faced has allowed you to grow on me in a way that I never thought possible.” You could see the deep breath Halsin took in, and knew that even if you did not share in his desires as much as he did, it would hurt you just as much. “But, I’m with Astarion. Mind, body, and soul. Had we met under different circumstances, or had things gone differently, I may have indulged in such sentiments. But I can’t, and truly no matter how I feel towards you, I don’t want to.”

Your hands clutched his tighter, determined to let him down as easily as you possibly could. Halsin was a great man, and he deserved great things. “I know that if I wanted, you would be okay with sharing. The whole ‘as nature intended’ thing,” the two of you shared a laugh. “But Astarion means the world to me, and even if he was okay with it, I wouldn’t feel comfortable sharing myself in that way with someone else knowing that it is his heart I live for.”

Slowly, an understanding smile appeared on Halsin’s face, and his words made the weight of guilt and sadness fly off of your shoulders. “I understand. It is true that I would never ask for you to leave Astarion, nor would I have held you without his consent, but I understand my ideals are not for everyone.” He paused for a moment, squeezing your hands back before releasing them fully. “I am happy that you have found someone you wish to share yourself with in that way. Thank you, for allowing me this moment.”

“Of course, Halsin.” He nodded in goodbye before making his way back over to his tent and slipping inside.

The moon rose quickly, and a fire was kept going by Gale. As all of the others began filing back into camp, excited from things bought and people met within the city, you still could not get your conversation with Halsin out of your head.

Quickly getting up from the fire and grabbing one of the two bags Astarion carried, you brushed your hand against his with the intention of holding it, giving him the opportunity to pull away and smiling brightly when he fully slipped his hand into yours. His tent, as always, was welcoming and warm. Filled with tattered books and the finest blankets and pillows he could get his hands on up until this point, it was no surprise when he pulled out a very nice looking quilt and matching fluffy pillow set that had no doubt cost a fortune, if he even bought them at all.

You sat down, watching as he moved his newly procured items to the exact spot he wanted them in. Chuckling lightly in an almost nervous manner, you disrupted the quiet in favor of getting what happened earlier off of your chest. Not that you had done anything wrong, but it still felt odd for him not to know, given all the things he did know about you due to the many nights spent watching the stars and talking about anything and everything you could. “You wouldn’t believe the conversation I had with Halsin today.”

Your voice came out low, meant for the two of you only, and you watched as Astarion froze for a moment before bursting into laughter. “I was wondering when you were going to ask me about this.” Your confusion was clear as day, and in voicing this, you were only left more confused. “I guessed! The man can’t stay quiet about ‘enjoying the freedom of nature’s gifts’. I bet he’d outlaw clothing if he could.”

Letting out a laugh at his impression of the local druid, Astarion smirked to himself before continuing to move everything around so that his tent was just right. “Wait, so, you’d be okay? If I…” You trailed off, uncertain.

“I’m happy for you to have as much Halsin as you wish, far be it from me to hold your hunger against you. I just have one question, before you go off with him-” Your mind began to spin, as light as the conversation seemed to have been, he hadn’t even given you a chance to tell him what truly happened. He had no doubt that you said yes? “This isn’t because… We haven’t… In a while? Is it?”

His pace in readjusting his belongings finally came to slow down as he said this, intently watching you for a reaction.

“What? No!” Astarion let out a small breath of relief, and before he could continue with what he was about to say, you cut him off. “And slow down, for gods sake. I told him no.”

Astarion’s facial expressions shifted so fast you could barely keep up. “You... said no?”

Nodding, you let a soft smile take over your features. You reached for him, pulling him down towards you and forcing him to sit in front of you. “I said no. I told him that even if you were comfortable with it, I wasn’t. Because I only want you.”

You let your words sink in, holding onto both of his hands and waiting for some kind of response. “Oh. I mean,” he paused. “Oh.” 

“Astarion,” you reached your hand up and placed it lightly on his cheek, forcing him to look you in the eyes. “I need you to listen to me, very carefully.” His eyes widened slightly. “Sex? Doesn’t matter to me. If we never had sex again it would be okay with me, so long as we were still together. Holding your hand, kissing you, cuddling, just… just talking with you, existing with you, is enough for me. Because I’m not with you for your body, or even your face, even if it is a really really pretty face. I’m with you because of you, because of who you are and the way you make me feel. Your smile, your laugh, your wit, those pesky morals you’ve been developing recently,” you let out a giggle. “Sex with you would be great, if and only if you are comfortable with it.”

It was silent for a moment, before Astarion finally spoke up. “And what if I’m never comfortable with it.”

The waver in his voice was almost enough to make you burst into tears at that very moment. “Then that’s okay.” You brushed your thumb across his cheek. “I love you, Astarion. That’s why I’m with you. I choose to be with you because I am in love with you. Sex has nothing to do with that.”

His eyes fluttered close as you spoke those words, his head leaning ever so slightly into the palm of your hand. 

After a few minutes of silence between the two of you, you spoke again. “I’m going to go head out to the fire and get a nice spot ready to eat with the rest of them. Come and join me when you’re ready.” Shifting to get up, you planted a soft kiss onto his forehead and lightly brushed your fingers through his hair before stepping out of the tent and leaving him to process the moment you two had shared.

You sent smiles to your friends as you took up your usual spot around the fire, thanking Gale as he handed you a bowl of freshly cooked soup. Eventually, you felt the familiar hands of your partner slide around your waist and pull you onto his lap.

Setting your empty bowl aside, you smiled at the faintest sound of an “I love you” lingering in the air, so soft you almost didn’t hear it. You whispered it back and laid against him, relaxing into his arms.

#leemacher #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #astarion fanfiction

[trulycertain]

Been thinking about Astarion and his disapprovals when you help people. I think that yes, it's partly about envy that no-one was there to help him, but also about choice and control. (BG3 is always a game about autonomy, after all.)

So hear me out: back in the pre-turn days, Astarion was a magistrate. And if Baldur's Gate is anything like our medieval and Renaissance eras? He would've had to sign off on some pretty damn awful punishments. (Look at how he talks in the Justice test about how one has to punish thieves, and the Early Access bit where he talks about how killing Arabella would be too harsh for her stealing... they should've cut off her hand instead, the "proper" punishment for thieves and what he would've sentenced her to. He handed down an edict bad enough on a Gur tribe that he was essentially murdered in revenge.)

So how do you justify this to yourself? Well. He had money, societal power, and pretty privilege - this is almost certainly why Cazador chose him, too - and was kind of crap at empathy. And we know he likes seeing people get their comeuppance, likes seeing them taken down a peg. So he carefully ignores all the ways he's been lucky, all his privilege, and pretends he got there all by himself. He goes, "They had a choice. There's always a choice. They weren't helpless. They should have got a job, not begged, or stolen. They earned this. They brought it upon themselves. I'm simply serving them the consequences. Don't look at me like that." (I think this also ties into that later-retconned part about him giving prisoners to vampires. They're just criminals, after all, the same way the Gur are cutthroats and goblins are trash. They chose this life. They chose not to matter.)

So then he falls painfully from privilege, and gets the full horrible buffet of helplessness at Cazador's hands. He "resisted least" - see, surely there's a way to be punished less if you just do the right things, if you say the right things. The spawn who resist are doing it wrong. They made their choice. (He ignores that he's never the favoured spawn, ignores the pliers coming out again, and tells himself this.) If he can say that, he can pretend he still has control - and he so desperately wants control. His old self-justification has been turned up to eleven by the trauma of Cazador.

And suddenly... tadpole. He's free. He's also, as said, traumatised. He tells himself he's never going back to Cazador - look, Cazador can't compel him, look, he can walk in the sun, look, he's seducing Tav. He knows what he's doing! He's in control! The tadpole just being luck? He can't afford to think about that. Luck can change. Which means Cazador, and everything else, no matter what Astarion does or prepares or succeeds at, can happen again. He's helpless. But no. No. He's not some helpless damsel in distress - his first meeting with you was mocking the very thought!

But look. These people are showcasing their helplessness, almost proudly. And it's horrifying. And they keep saying familiar things - they're saying things he's said, in his more vulnerable moments. And Tav keeps saying things like, "They had no choice - we have to help them." But of course these people did. They got themselves into this situation, they can damn well help themselves out of it.

Because if they didn't have a choice... then neither did all the poor bastards he sent to their deaths or horrendous punishments over the years. Neither did those he brought to Cazador. Neither will all the spawn he's going to sacrifice in the ritual. Neither did he. All that separates them from him is luck, and luck can change. He's not in control. The thought is horrifying, so he pushes back against it. "They're weak, pathetic [...] We are better." Even as he approves of getting Wyll out of the pact and getting Mayrina away from the hag, even as he wants Lae'zel to "break her chains", because he feels a kinship with them. Even as, in a rawer moment, he tells the story about being locked in a crypt and tells Tav not to judge him for what he had to do for Cazador. If he stops to examine that too much, he'll panic. Cognitive dissonance is a hell of a drug. So move on, keep desperately snobbing.

He keeps trying that even when Tav meets his siblings and treats them with empathy (empathy that confuses and horrifies him). "They lured thousands to their deaths," he tells Tav. "I doubt Baldur's Gate will miss them." Or him. If they had control, he had control too. Life before turning taught him that if you're punished for what you've done, with cruelty or with death in a ritual, the punishment implies you still had a choice. He vacillates wildly between victim-blaming and talking about them as helpless unfortunate sacrifices while he tries to get his head round this. Even while, as Tav insists on saying, all that separates him from them is a tadpole. His victims are "criminals and brothel-goers," he tries desperately to tell Tav later - look, they deserved it!

The breakthrough is when he finally admits that the spawn are "the innocent, idiots, and the unlucky." Just like the others whose chains you've helped break, through the acts (his approval slowly starting to turn round on some of them, as this realisation creeps up on him and gains speed). Just like him - he was unlucky. (Which means he didn't deserve two hundred years of enslaved misery, and the people on this journey didn't deserve what happened to them, either. Which means he deserves to be treated with kindness, and so do others.) He can turn from that, and keep desperately scrabbling for control with the ritual (he can command others! He'll "never have to be afraid of anyone, ever again"), or he can stay a spawn, and accept that.

The kind of control he wants is an illusion. You can never truly control others without losing yourself in the process. All you can do to change people is decide whether to help - to reach out and hope they reach back. He's seen this time and time again with Tav, saw it even before he woke up in the ground. It's just that finally, he's stopped outrunning the thought and accepted it. Sometimes he still backslides, sometimes he still sees those who hurt him in the ones Tav wants to help, sometimes he's still rather an arse... but he's starting to see it now.

#Astarion #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #Meta #There's a lot of headcanon in here too but eh #ie me rambling

[taki-yaki]

Sorry if this is random or comes at a time where you already have a lot of requests, but how do you think Astarion would react to a Tav who has to take care of/raise their younger sibling and has been trying to get back to them in Baldur's Gate the entire journey?

Hi anon, dw I don’t have too many requests atm. I usually get around 2 or 3 at most, sometimes they take a while since I’m usually trying to think of ideas for requests or just busy doing irl things.

But the idea of Astarion having to deal with a Tav with a younger sibling is unique. Also since I’m the youngest sibling in my family, I’ve got some personal tip bits to add.

Astarion x Tav w/ Younger Sibling Headcanons

Astarion usually thought charming another for protection was nothing but a simple task. Go in compliment them, say a few of his favourite lines and then his protection is secured.

But having to deal with your younger sibling is a factor he had not accounted for. Not that he had an issue with you having a sibling, but more of the fact of how much they intervened.

Whenever it seemed you had some time to yourself in the late evenings, when your sibling was ‘presumably’ asleep, he would attempt to make some moves on you, whether it was with some flirting or teasing. When it seemed that he would make some sort of progress with your relationship, the little imp would seemingly appear from nowhere to start asking all sorts of questions.

“What are you doing?, Can I join in? Why do you have white hair, Why are your teeth so sharp?”.

He would try and keep his distance from the child early on. Choosing to forget the last time he was near a child, forced to be reminded of the monster he was that night. The shouts of battle and the screams of the children he dragged away. So why would this one see him as nothing but a heroic adventure after all he only killed a couple of goblins with ease.

When the child discovers that he’s a vampire, along with the rest of the group. But rather than running away in fear, they seem to only be more fascinated by him. 

Of course, they make for a great night's entertainment, with the antics they get up to either blabbing on about the gossip they picked up or saying who they think is your new crush. Being perceptive of others. 

“I’ve heard Tav has been talking with the wizard man”

“Hmm and what have they been saying little one, will you lend me an ear?”

“Some stuff about how strong the strong red lady is, they think she’s foxy, but she doesn’t look like one”

Snickering to himself over the naive comments that they make.

The only moments of peace that he gets with you are when he’s out with you away from camp to help with fights. Leaving the child at camp with Halsin or Wyll to keep watch over them often. 

However, during the fray of one battle, a shrill voice pulled Astarion out of the chaos of battle. The little brat had snuck outside of camp mainly from all the stories that Karlach and Wyll had told them probably, wanting to see their older sibling in battle for themselves.

As they attempt to run over to their sibling, a Gnoll attempts to strike them down, seeing them as nothing but an easy target. Still, he didn’t know what came over him at that moment, either it was to atone for what he did for those gur children or just a gut reaction, he quickly rushed between them, taking the brute of the hit and protecting them, before swiftly knocking the gnoll out.

After the dust had settled, checking them over for any injuries, Tav approached Astaion, 

“I didn’t expect you to be the heroic sort after saving my sibling from doing something so stupid. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Well I can be surprising at times darling, if anything happened to the brat, then you would have been glum about it” before turning his head aside and muttering “And I didn’t want you to see you sad is all”.

Soon after that event, the tyke would badger him even more, seeing him as an idol of sorts. At first, he is miffed by this. But soon leans into it after seeing them attempt to mimic his roguish ways, teaching him how to lockpick chests among other things, which would lead to him being scolded by Tav. 

Although he would find their antics to be bothersome at first, he would eventually learn to grow a soft spot for them and a great deal of respect, with the patience you have for them, even when they’re troublesome, it reminds him of his “siblings”, even when they would give you grief, they would still be there to help in any way they can.

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #bg3 #bg3 astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion headcanons

[alicelufenia]

Testing new ways to recruit Minthara in Patch 6 - Part 2 (KO without being temporarily hostile)

The first part of this series taught me a lot about the changes to Minthara's recruitment conditions. I was fully expecting it to simply be easier to keep her temporarily hostile, but now that we know that any knock out condition will suffice

This means it's now possibly easier to recruit her than ever before.

For this next test I tried fighting her the old fashioned way, how lots of people may have done it and how I had hoped it would work from the start; talk to her at the goblin camp, reject her command to raid the grove, and knock her out as a result, regardless of whatever hostility level the game mechanics say.

What sentence will always start a fight? - "Hey, wanna start a fight?"

I even made sure they were able to hit the wardrum too, the bane of many an honor mode attempt at a Minthara recruitment.

And look at that, it still worked!

Also she didn't bug out this time, so inviting her to kill the guards together worked just fine.

One thing to note, if you do it her way of slaughtering your way out of the prison, you'll aggro the rest of the tower. You wanna sneak out the doors to the dock, and there's a path that will lead away from the tower. After returning to camp with Minthara and maybe even a long rest, the tower's aggro should reset.

LMAOOO

I'm glad I finally get to witness this special pairing. Ultimatum? Never heard of her.

THIS IS THE SECOND TIME HER CAMP CLOTHES GLITCHED OUT IN THE LEVEL UP SCREEN

Also it wouldn't be a Baldur's Gate 3 patch that introduced new and innovative bugs to our favorite spicy elf. Apparently this is what she says in lieu of whatever appropriate narrative reaction should have triggered. Spoilering this out cause I don't wanna drop big spoiler bombs on unsuspecting people.

Anyway, that's it. I get the feeling I may not have to do any more testing than this. The previous methods of knocking her out should still work, the game has just extended that courtesy to any time she is knocked out.

I still think it would be cool if she disappeared after being reduced to 0 hp during the grove battle, like in the Daughter of Lolth mod which people used prior to all this. I dunno I feel no companion should be completely missable in this game. Although, this means the two people most likely to recruit Minthara without looking anything up are now both people playing an evil route, and those playing a pacifist good guy tav who always tries to knock enemies out instead of killing them. I look forward to the first time someone finds her at Moonrise Towers and it comes as a complete surprise. But I should wrap this up now.

Final Verdict: Recruiting Minthara by KOing her by initiating a fight via dialogue at the Goblin Camp - WORKS!

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate iii #bg3 minthara #minthara #minthara baenre #minthara bg3 #nightwarden minthara #minthara good playthrough recruitment #I suppose the only thing left to test would be grabbing Halsin and going on a killing spree through the whole camp #I'll leave that to someone else #for now knowing these methods all work makes me very happy #Minthara fans things may be looking up for us? #I jest. I'll have to do another playthrough to get my Alurlssrin fix #ah well

[spookyjuicefiction]

Violets & Plums: Astarion/Tav, Part 4

A/N: Look at me updating and not completely abandoning a work! I literally have no plans for this chapter I'm just gonna freeball it and hope it gets where it should go. I read a really sad Ascended Astarion fic last night that I want to flush out of my brain by rambling on and on with fluff

Also Astarion and Shawdowheart are besties and helping each other work through some trauma

Masterlist Part 3

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

Astarion emerged from trance sluggishly, feeling unusually well-rested. No nightmares clung to the backs of his eyes, and he was so warm.

He froze, suddenly alert.

He was never warm.

But she was.

His eyes snapped open and he took in the scene. The room looked stark in the morning light that cascaded through the skylight above; the previously flickering candles melted to stubs that dripped over the side of the bed table. And, of course, there was her. She took up most of the bed, her arms akimbo and hair splayed messily across the pillow. Her mouth hung open slightly, and she snored a little with each deep inhale. She was still shirtless; he took inventory of each scar and freckle dotted across the expanse of her skin. His limbs were tangled in hers, and he couldn't ignore the extra heat where his leg split hers open. Fuck.

They were so wound together that she stirred at even his slightest movement; he was trying to angle his morning excitement away from her hip.

"You better not be trying to get out of this bed."

Her voice was thick with sleep, eyes still closed as she yanked the blanket back up over their shoulders.

He chuckled awkwardly, unsure of what to do. He couldn't remember the last time he woke up in bed with someone. At once the warmth was both suffocating and intoxicating; he wanted to nestle back into her so badly, but he felt exposed and vulnerable in the sunlight. He tried to deflect.

"Darling, we have a very busy day today. There are so many goblins to kill! I should think you'd want plenty of time for your breakfast."

"I can have breakfast any day. I likely won't get to share a proper bed with you again until we reach Baldur's Gate, and I intend to enjoy it."

Astarion grinned in spite of himself. "Very bold of you to assume I'd jump into bed with you again. You must think you're quite the cuddle."

Smiling, she finally opened her eyes and looked into his. His stomach flipped at the expression they conveyed, all sweetness and sleepy desire.

"You wound me. And here I thought we had something special." She let out an overly dramatic sigh. "If you'd rather room with Gale in Baldur's Gate, I suppose I can understand. Just give me some time to get over it."

He was too weak to resist her. Her charming playfulness, her nudity, and her gentle hands on his shoulders were a heady mixture that his conscience simply couldn't contend with. He succumbed to the warmth, closing the distance between them with a hungry kiss that left them both a little breathless.

"If my only lodging option is Gale in the future," Astarion told her seriously, "I'm taking a page out of Lae'zel's book and swearing off beds altogether. I refuse to be the first person that dies in a Netherese orb explosion."

Giggling, she stroked his cheek and replied, "I swear to never make you bunk with Gale if you admit that I'm the best cuddle you've ever had."

Astarion rolled his eyes with exaggerated exasperation and she playfully slapped his cheek lightly, still giggling. "You bastard."

"Very well," he sighed, leaning forward and nuzzling his nose to hers in a way so a nauseatingly sweet he would certainly punish himself for it later, "you are the best cuddle I have ever had. And it's not even close." For once in his life, Astarion was telling the complete and entire truth.

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

The saccharine mood from the morning cuddle hung over them both as they strapped into their armor, packed, and headed to the dining area to meet the others. Astarion felt he hid the giddiness better than she did by nodding stiffly to the table at large and heading to the corner to sharpen his daggers in solitude. Tav, on the other hand, greeted everyone with unbridled enthusiasm that had the entire table raising their eyebrows. Very subtle, Astarion mentally chastised her. But even he had trouble committing to the thought, warming at the idea that he might be the cause for her smile as she sat down and dug heartily into her breakfast. Mine.

It didn't surprise him when Shadowheart fell back to walk in step with him on the way to the goblin camp once they set out. She seemed determined to dig up gossip on whatever was going on between he and Tav.

"How was your evening?" she asked innocently. Astarion shot her a knowing look, and she chuckled.

"Lady Shar would be ashamed at my lack of subterfuge," she remarked. "Although I'm not nearly as bad as you and Tav."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean." Astarion's tone aimed for dismissive, but even he couldn't hold back a smile when Shadowheart snorted in return.

They walked in companionable silence for a while, and Astarion found that he did not entirely dislike the cleric's company. He wondered if she considered him a sort of friend, the way Tav did.

"Can I ask you something?" he surprised himself by asking her quietly.

"Sure," she answered, sounding a little surprised as well.

"You surrendered your memories to serve Shar. Do you ever..." he wasn't sure how to ask the question that was on the tip of his tongue. "Are there times that you sort of.. clamp up? Like there's something you can't remember, but it... paralyzes you?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he felt Shadowheart regard him. After a beat, she answered, "yes."

He looked to her now. Her fingers were brushing the black spot on the back of her hand that she claimed was an "old injury that acted up from time to time". She continued, "it sort of feels like my brain is resetting. Like I should be able to remember something, but it's blocked. It makes me feel..." she searched for the right word. "Afraid. Outside of myself."

"Hmm," Astarion hummed in reply. He found that he wanted to confide in her further. "It happened to me last night, when Tav and I... I became afraid, quite suddenly." He frowned at the memory. "I feel... ashamed."

"Astarion, if there is anyone who would never judge you, it's Tav," Shadowheart reminded him gently. "But I'm sorry that happened to you. And I'm sorry for whatever memory caused it." He felt her hand touch his wrist, and she gave him a little squeeze. In response, he lightly bumped his shoulder against hers.

"What a mess we all are," he sighed. They were approaching the edge of the goblin encampment now, and the pair dropped to a crouch in unison.

"Well, luckily there are plenty of goblin skulls to crush as therapy."

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

"What kind of a name is Priestess Gut, anyway?!" Astarion yanked Tav behind a pillar as a flurry of arrows launched their way.

"That's what we all call you behind your back." She was panting as she chugged a quick healing potion and wiggled her fingers, willing electricity to buzz between them. The grand hall of the old Selunite temple was a mess; the group had managed to schmooze their way in and take out two leaders, but a guard had caught Karlach cracking a scrying eye against the stone wall and alerted the whole camp to their trickery.

"No no, that's what I call you after you pig out on sweetrolls after supper," he shot back through gritted teeth as he yanked arrows out of a dead body nearby. She shot him a wicked grin as the sparks between her fingers began crackling even bigger.

"Hang on, I've just had a thought!" Astarion plucked up a carafe from the ground nearby and flung it around the pillar, covering the ground with water. "Alright, sweetness, light them up."

She happily obliged, sending a current of pure electricity through the line of goblins in a chain reaction. The pair whooped excitedly as they ran forward, trying to catch up with Wyll and Lae'zel ahead.

"Watch out!" Shadowheart's panicked scream hit them too late; an arrow whizzed past Astarion's face. Looking up, he saw they'd missed a guard in the rafters, which he took out with a rapid arrow from his own bow.

"Little shit," he cursed, "come on-" but Tav had dropped to the ground next to him, slipping through his fingers as he tried too late to catch her.

"No, gods damn it, NO!" the rogue arrow was poking out of her shoulder, just above her heart. Her eyes were blinking rapidly as blood soaked her jerkin. Panic seized his heart as he tried to drag her out of the center of the room; the fight between Karlach, Gale and the last leader, Minthara, was spilling dangerously close to where Tav had fallen. Shadowheart was on the other side of the room shooting off shield spells, and Wyll and Lae'zell were rushing forward to join the fray.

What the fuck do I do? Tav was losing consciousness, and he needed to get her out of the way.

Suddenly, he remembered the ring Gale had pressed into his hand a few days before and the conversation that had ensued:

"Gale, what in the hells am I going to do with a Misty Step Ring? I don't even use magic."

"You have fey magic in you, Astarion. You never know when it could come in handy. Just hang onto it."

Astarion threw his arms around Tav and tried with everything in him to channel the power of the ring.

"Come on, fucking faerie magic," he grunted. I have to save her. He let out a scream as a white hot feeling crashed through him - and then they were gone.

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

What if she's dead?

The question wouldn't stop ringing in Astarion's ears as he paced outside the door to the room in the temple they had deemed as the hospital ward. He didn't quite know how to feel about the question. Only days ago he swore he wouldn't have cared if Tav had fallen off a cliff, but now... everything had changed. When was the last time he'd lost someone? Someone that mattered?

"It was quick thinking, mate," Wyll said for what must have been the third time. The warlock was cleaning a scrape on his leg on a bench along the wall. "You did everything you could."

Astarion picked up a piece of rubble from the ground and threw it as hard as he could down the hall. He hadn't done enough. She could be dead.

Belatedly, it occurred to him that he hadn't once been distracted by her blood as he tried to stopper the wound. It almost unnerved him that the frenzy of his thirst had been overpowered by his panic over losing her. He wanted to smack his skull against the wall. His confusion over his suddenly strong feelings for her flavored his fear of losing her with extra nausea.

Finally, Shadowheart appeared in the doorway, wiping her bloody hands on a rag. "She's alive," she assured him quickly, assessing the pure panic in his eyes. "She's lost a lot of blood and will need some time to recover, but she'll pull through."

Astarion thought his knees might give out. "Is she awake? Is she in pain?" he tried to peer over the cleric's head to get a look into the ward. "Will it be alright through the night?"

"I promise, Astarion, I've done everything I can." Shadowheart looked exhausted - depleted, even. He wanted to hound her further, but he knew she was telling the truth. He hadn't forgotten their tender conversation from earlier in the day, and he was grateful to her for that and for tending to Tav.

"Can I see her?" he asked in a small voice. Shadowheart nodded, stepping out into the hallway and holding the door open for him. Astarion understood - this was the changing of the guard for the rest of the night.

He moved into the dimly lit room to take up his post and nearly shuddered at the sight. Tav was laid stiffly out on a table in a way that reminded Astarion of a body at the morgue, covered by a loose piece of cloth. Her tangled hair was pushed back over her head, and her forehead and upper lip were glistening with sweat. He hesitated for a moment before stepping back in the hall, asking Wyll to keep an eye on her for a few moments.

He returned to the tableside with a bucket of warm water, his bergamot soap, a sponge, a comb, and a clean set of loose clothing. He spent the next hour gingerly scrubbing the crusted blood and dirt off of her pretty skin and gently working through the tangles in her hair. He sat at the head of the table and worked the strands into an intricate braid pattern that he hadn't realized he even knew how to do. Hair-braiding was an intimate act amongst elves; he briefly wondered whose hair he might have braided before to learn this design. He was glad that he didn't remember; he wanted it to be only hers.

When he had finished cleaning her, he sat and watched her for so long that he lost track of time. It felt as though he was trancing - thoughts seemed to come and go before he could catch them. They were tiny things, inconsequential. A vicious master, a putrid dungeon full of rats, a squirming parasite digging through his skull. An infernal tattoo. An army of cultists marching on the city. It didn't matter now, he knew. As he looked at her, he at last finally, calmly accepted the seismic shift in the cosmos. The center of his universe now lay on the table in front of him, dancing between life and death, the axis of the planet spinning unknowingly around the core of her being. He was but a tiny moon in her atmosphere, helpless to her gravitational pull. Perhaps it was time to stop resisting. With a sigh, he settled into orbit.

A dim light had begun to creep through the dusty windows when she finally stirred. A groan of pain, followed by a thick swallow. Astarion was at her side in an instant with a water skein, tipping it to her cracked lips. She swallowed and coughed lightly, blinking up at him.

"It smells like shit in here."

He chuckled, tucking a stray hair behind her ears. "My apologies, madam. I'm not sure I can wash away, what, months worth of goblin piss in one night? But I can certainly try if it should please you."

She huffed out a laugh that made her wince, tenderly bringing a hand to touch the wound area. "How bad is it?"

"Shadowheart says you'll live," he smiled at her crookedly, "though I had my doubts. You looked quite poorly."

"You must be disappointed she was right," she smirked up at him, although he thought he caught an unguarded flash of uncertainty. If she only knew what he now understood, she would never doubt his devotion to her. But how could he even begin to explain it?

"Not in the least," he all but whispered. Leaning down, he ghosted a kiss against her lips first, and then to her forehead. "Don't scare me like that again, please."

"Then don't forget to check the rafters next time." Tired as she was, her eyes were full of adoration as her hand clasped around his.

#astarion fanfic #astarion angst #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion fluff #astarion #fic wip

[the-eldritch-it-gay]

The joyous din of the party was distant as Wyll sat by the riverside. Wyll hadn’t strayed too far from the camp, but the celebrations and singing felt miles away, a lifetime away.

Against all odds, Majexatli had managed not just to save the tieflings, but also save Halsin, take down the goblin leaders, talk Kagha out of the Rite of Thorns, and have the title of Faithwarden bestowed upon them. They were a hero. Wyll couldn’t think of anyone more deserving of a celebration in their honor.

Wyll had helped, certainly, and he couldn’t have been more honored to be by Majexatli’s side. They were a competent leader, a skilled warrior, a sage druid. He had done his best to help them at every turn, help the tiefling refugees in any way possible. But even as he had been teaching the tiefling children how to defend themselves, when he first saw Majexatli, there had only been one thing on his mind. 

Karlach. 

The violent devil he had spent so long hunting, the monster he had sworn to cut down. The one he had traveled to Averus to kill, only to discover she was only a young woman tiefling, a victim of Zariel, forced into servitude. She was no more a monster than he was.

He didn't regret sparing her. He would do it again.

Yet—

His dreams were still haunted by how close he had come to killing her. When he closed his eyes, he could still feel the hellfire burning his skin and his soul was dragged through all the levels of hell. Every time he caught a glimpse of his reflection he was reminded of it all, that he was nothing more than a devil’s puppet. Every time people looked at him, all they saw was his worst.

Wyll never regretted his pact, how could he? How much good has he done because of it, he saved Baldur’s Gate, saved countless people. He couldn’t regret it. He was the Blade of Frontiers, a monster hunter, protecting the innocent with the powers granted by Mizora. He had sworn to only ever hunt monsters and devils.

But how many were just like Karlach—

A twig snapped behind Wyll and he couldn’t help the way his breath hitched, his heart fluttered in anticipation. Perhaps it was selfish, to think that they would leave their own celebration just to see him. He couldn’t ignore that hope though, as much as he tried.

Turning to look where the noise came from, though, that hope vanished.

Stood a few yards away was a wolf, large with dark brown fur and yellow eyes trained on him.

Fear shot through Wyll for a moment, freezing him in place as his mind raced. He was unarmored, unarmed. He had left all his equipment back at camp, he wasn’t even sure how much magic he had left in him after a full day of battle.

Before Wyll’s mind could race much any further, Wyll saw the wolf lower its head and whine.  

Majexatli, Wyll realized, a warmth spreading in his chest. 

The other day, he had seen them wildshape into a wolf while fighting the gnolls on the risen road. It was a form they rarely took, at least for as long as Wyll had known them. 

For a moment on the battlefield, he had wondered what their strategy was, why that form. Often they chose something larger, a bear, a rothé, something that could shrug and walk off arrows and stabs.

His questioning didn’t last long, when a gnoll cornered him and out of nowhere the wolf jumped at the gnoll’s throat, tackling it to the ground and biting down with a jaw powerful enough that Wyll heard the gnoll’s spine crunch.

The wolf before him now looked worlds different from the one he saw with bared teeth and blood-soaked fur. Its eyes were wide and curious, fur clean and soft, though its right ear was still missing, skin raw from where a gnoll had torn it off. 

The wolf padded closer to Wyll cautiously, and Wyll let out a chuckle.

“I had hoped you wouldn’t notice I was gone,”

It was partially true. Some deep, selfish part of him hoped they would come looking for him. He shouldn’t have hoped for it, shouldn’t be glad they left the celebration. 

The wolf whined again as it approached, and mid-stride it was consumed by a golden light. In the blink of an eye, Majexatli was by his side, sitting next to him on the rock. They weren’t quite touching him, but Wyll could feel the warmth radiating off them, melting away the chill of the night. He had to stop himself from leaning into them.

“You were the first person I looked for, of course I noticed,” Majexatli said, adjusting their bad leg with a slight wince.

“Really? I mean— ahem, I’m honored,”

It was hard not to stumble over his words around them.

“Are you alright?”

Majexatli looked over at Wyll, briefly meeting his eyes before returning their gaze to the river. They rarely made eye contact; seeing Majexatli’s green eyes focused on him, even just for a moment, almost made his breath hitch. This close, Wyll could see the worry on their face, the lines on their face more pronounced as they looked out at the river.

“I’m deeply proud of you, a touch less so of myself,” Wyll sighed, joining Majexatli in looking out towards the water, “In truth, I don’t feel in a festive mood and didn’t want to cast a gray cloud over the night.”

Majexatli was silent for a few moments.

“I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?” 

You coming to find me already means the world.

“It’s alright, you needn’t worry. Any other time and I would love to join you in celebrating, but…” Wyll let out another sigh, “I’m a devil. I love the people from the grove, but I unsettle them deep down. As I seem to unsettle everyone nowadays.” 

“Wyll, that’s not true,” 

Majexatli’s frown had deepened, the sight almost hurt to see.

Wyll almost wanted to be honest, tell them the truth. I’ve likely killed innocent people. People used to look at me as a hero but now all they see is a monster. He couldn’t bring himself to say it, though.

“Come on, you don’t want a devil at your party. Claws will pop the balloons, you see. And the sweetcakes don't taste half as good as raw eggs with this blasted forked tongue,” Wyll smiled, trying to make light of it all, trying to keep Majexatli from seeing through him to the truth. 

“You’re no more a devil than any of us,”

In appearance, perhaps. You don’t know everything I’ve done for Mizora. And I chose to be this way. I wouldn’t change what I did. I would make the pact again if given a chance to do it over. I don’t regret it. I don’t. I can’t regret it.

“If only half the world had half the heart you do,”  Wyll said softly before he could stop himself.

“Wyll…”

They sounded so earnest. 

“Ah, but I’ve taken up enough of your time,” Wyll bit back the selfish urge to keep them here, to lean on them, to tell them everything, “You have a party to return to! Have a dance, enjoy the music. I’ll be back to my old self in no time,” 

Wyll patted their shoulder with a smile. He half expected them to leave immediately, that the moment he finished speaking, they would nod politely and be enveloped in golden light as they returned to whichever form they felt suited them.

In the time Wyll had known them, he had learned enough about them to know they weren’t particularly social. Majexatli preferred silence, solitude, being surrounded by nature rather than engaging in small talk or comforting others. 

Even in the river, Wyll had noticed their tension, the faint edge in their voice, the way they kept their distance. He knew they didn’t mean him any ill will, it was just as they had said, they were unused to being around people. They were a druid that spent their time in the wilds far from settlements, it was understandable, even the kindest druids in the Emerald Grove had seemed slightly awkward around outsiders. Perhaps Wyll should have turned down their invitation—

Wyll pulled himself from his thoughts as he realized Majexatli was still sitting there, looking down, fidgeting with their sleeve, or rather, something in their sleeve. Wyll saw the faintest glint of something silver between their fingers.

“I… I came out here for a reason, you know,” 

“Oh?” 

Majexatli shifted slightly, perhaps by accident, perhaps coincidentally, their knee touching his. The playful retort that had been on the tip of Wyll’s tongue died at the sudden contact, heart skipping a beat.

“I did,”

They fidgeted again, moonlight once again reflecting off something by their side. Wyll paid it no mind though, regaining his composure and smiling.

“And here I thought you had stumbled out here by accident, perhaps all the wine has gotten the better of you,”

As much as he was teasing them, looking at them, he could see their lips faintly stained red from wine. With the amount of bottles he had seen at camp before he left, he shouldn’t be surprised that they were likely a bit drunk. The thought hurt, somehow, the idea that what fueled their care for him in this moment might just be the wine talking—

“I’m afraid I’m quite sober,”

Perhaps it should have struck him as strange. Surely they were lying, exaggerating. He hadn’t seen them drink before, perhaps they handled their alcohol better than most.

“Is that so? Surely then you must have been looking for somewhere quiet to relax and I’ve intruded on your solitude and quite ruined your whole evening,”

Wyll was only half joking, trying to hide the fact that he was nervous, second-guessing himself. He scanned their face intently. Surely he must have misread the signs. 

“I wasn’t looking for solitude, actually,”

Majexatli shifted again, just barely, the hand they were leaning on moving over just enough that they brushed Wyll’s own hand. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see they were clutching something tightly in their other hand.

After a moment, Wyll slowly moved his hand over Majexatli’s. He was almost afraid, worried Majexatli might get spooked and bolt like a cornered animal. But they stayed, half turning towards him, eyes wide.

“I—It’s a long shot, but- maybe you’ve grown fond of me. Gods know I’ve grown fond of you.”

He heard Majexatli’s breath hitch.

“I think I do, have feelings for you that is,” Majexatli said slowly, occasionally flicking their eyes over to meet his.

“Then we share a similar affliction, though I can’t say I’ve earned the honor,” Wyll let out a half-laugh, “The Blade hasn’t really lived up to own reputation, I haven’t even managed to kill a single devil,”

It was true—Majexatli hadn’t seen the best of The Blade. They saw him nearly kill an innocent woman, saw him get dragged through the hells in punishment, saw the tight grip Mizora had on him. What must they think of him? If his patron punished him for being good and he hadn’t been punished like this before.

Majexatli pulled back slightly, and Wyll braced himself for rejection.

“You don't need to be the Blade of Frontiers, Wyll,” Was what Majexatli said instead, looking almost hurt, “You’re more than just the Blade,”

“The Blade is my best self, some days I even live up to it,”

Majexatli was quiet for a moment, eyes distant, face stony. What Wyll wouldn’t give to see them smile, relax, feel at ease. They looked far older than they were, aged by a constant stress and frown that seemed unfitting of a druid. As the quiet carried on, Wyll couldn’t help a gnawing guilt, that he was only adding to their stress, adding unnecessary layers to an already awful situation. Majexatli could be celebrating and drinking at a party in their honor, but instead, they were at Wyll’s side, looking more melancholy than ever.

“Does it hurt?” Majexatli asked eventually, breaking the silence.

“I— pardon?”

The question caught Wyll off guard, he wasn’t even sure what they meant. 

“Having a title you feel you aren’t living up to? Does it hurt?” Majexatli continued, “Is the Blade who you are, or is it a role, a front, character, boots you can never fill that contain some ephemeral worth?”

“What brought this on?”

Majexatli looked up at the stars above, they opened their mouth to speak but stopped themselves, tail flicking at their side.

“What happened in the Grove… with Kagha, the way she named me Faithwarden,”

Wyll wasn’t too familiar with druid customs, but he had been able to sense that it was something meaningful. He saw the surprise on the other druids’ faces as Kagha named them Faithwarden, placing the quarterstaff in their hands that radiated a faint golden light.

“I hear it’s quite an honor, you deserve it, for all you did at the Grove. I don’t know much of Silvanus, but you seem to honor his teachings well,”

Majexatli almost flinched at his words.

At their reaction, their visceral disgust, something clicked in Wyll’s mind, a puzzle piece falling into place. As enigmatic and stoic as Majexatli was, all of the little slips in their mask were compounding. Their discomfort in the Grove, their unusual coldness towards Calnys there, their seeming contempt for Wyll’s congratulations and mention of Silvanus…

“I don’t care for the title,” Majexatli said, then added, almost inaudible, “Not this time,”

There was something just beneath the surface, just out of reach.

“This time?”

For the briefest moment, he felt his tadpole twitch, flashes of images in his mind. Pale hands braiding dark curly hair. The feel of fine robes with delicate elven embroidery. Butterflies in stomach, kneeling before an older half-elf before a crowd of druids. 

With a pang of guilt, Wyll wondered if he had probed their mind without meaning to. 

“I just... I need you to know that I care about you, Wyll. I would care about you if you weren't the Blade, I would care about you if you weren't a hero. You matter to me as a person, not a story or title,”

Majexatli’s hand found Wyll’s, warm and calloused, squeezing gently, earnestly, desperately. They had turned to look at him fully for the first time that night, meeting his eyes directly, searching for something. 

This was a different Majexatli than Wyll had seen before, unguarded in a way that felt more intimate than bathing with them in the river the other day. Wyll leaned in closer without realizing.

“I—I’ll try to remember that, but I’m not sure what I have without the title,”

“You’re enough,”

Majexatli still held Wyll’s hand, looked in his eyes, leaned close to him. 

“In another life, I can imagine courting you properly, dancing in ballrooms,” Wyll said softly.

Wyll would have given anything to see it, to live it. To get a chance to lead Majexatli and glide across the dancefloor with them. To see what Majexatli would look like well-rested, well cared for. For them to see him as he used to be, some version of himself more worthy of their affection.

There was a flash of something across Majexatli’s face, something unreadable. They regained composure quickly, face softening as they brought up their hand to cup Wyll’s face. A faintly metallic smell hit Wyll, subtle enough to barely register.

“I don’t have another life, just this one, where I met you,”

Some skeptical part of Wyll had wondered if it had all been a ploy, that Majexatli simply craved intimacy with anyone and he was just romantic enough to fall for it. There was no way they meant what they said, there had to be some hidden motive, and yet—

Majexatli’s calloused thumb stroked his cheek with such tenderness.  

Hells. 

Wyll could court them in this life, even if he was a devil and they both had tadpoles in their heads and the Absolute threatening them at every turn. As much as he wanted it to be perfect, as much as he wanted to take his time—

Wyll leaned in, slowly, cautiously, half expecting Majexatli to stop him. Instead, they closed the distance, pressing their chapped lips to his softly.

The kiss lasted only a moment, Wyll’s hand finding their waist as he kissed back, Majexatli still cupping his cheek with a gentleness he hadn’t seen them show before. He had to stop himself from clinging to them and kissing back with the fevered desperation he felt, trying to chase the warmth and safety he felt in their arms.

“I—well, then,” Wyll started, cheeks burning hot as he pulled away, “Erm, you've got a party to get back to. After all, tonight is about you.”

“Of course. Goodnight, Wyll,”

Majexatli nodded with a faint smile, standing up and immediately being consumed by golden light as they once again assumed their wolf form. They trotted off towards the woods, towards camp Wyll hoped. 

As they disappeared in the treeline, Wyll realized a taste lingered on his lips. 

Not wine.

Blood.

#eldritch it speaks #salam plays bg3 #oc: majexatli #i should make a wyll/majexatli tag at some point #anyways! my own imagining of the tielfing party scene between Majexatli and Wyll #i hope I did okay with writing from Wyll's POV it seemed right to focus on him in this #this took me too long and I had to remind myself writing it bad is better than not writing lmao

[parkkiablah]

Peaceful for once - pt. 2 (Zevlor x Tav)

part 1 part 3

(Just Zevlor comforting tav after they had a nightmare!)

You probably had barely slept more than an hour when you woke up again. The nightmare you just had made you sit up straight in bed while letting out a short scream.

'Hopefully not loud enough to wake the others', were your first thoughts as you rubbed your face.

Your skin sticky with sweat as the nightmare didn't bring the peaceful sleep you were hoping for.

Your life hadn't been easy since you were on the Nautiloid but the pressure you felt lately to get ready for the worst fight of your life was getting unbearable.

"Are you alright?", you heard a sleepy voice say closeby.

You instantly knew who it was just by his voice alone, no matter how sleepy he sounded.

"Just a nightmare. Sorry for waking you, Zevlor."

He was still sitting on his bed a few meters away, his feet on the ground like he was ready to jump out of bed if you needed him to.

"It's no problem at all. If you want to talk about it, I'm right here.", he said quietly.

In the dark of the room you were glad for your darkvision, as you otherwise would never have the opportunity to see him like this. His hair messily hanging around his face and just seeing him without his heavy armor was something you barely saw before.

Even on the other days he kept his armor on as long as he possibly could and you thought it was just part of him being overly cautious and being ready in case someone attacked us.

The shirt he was wearing to sleep hanging loosely around his shoulders, revealing parts of his skin. Some of the typical tiefling ridges visible for your eyes as well as a scar reaching across his collarbone.

"I don't think its worth talking about it, it's not the first time I've had it.", you responded honestly.

You had similar nightmares for a while now, all related to you not being able to save your friends from whatever enemy you were fighting at the moment.

"Even more of a reason to talk about it if it's not the first time you had it." He wasn't wrong, but you felt silly for being so bothered by simple nightmares.

You let out a heavy sigh as you looked down at your hands.

"I know it's just a nightmare, I just can't help being affected by it. Most of the time I see any of my friends die as I was unable to save them. Tonight it was you who died on my dream, so talking to you actually does help right now."

You weren't uncomfortable telling him, yet it still made you feel weird. Just the thought of him dying in front of you is something you didn't want to experience.

"I'm glad to help with something as simple as talking.", he said, a smile on his face. "You know I owe you my life not just once, you never failed at saving me for sure."

"You give me too much credit for that, I was never alone when I was helping and you were not the only one I was trying to rescue."

"Stop being so humble. You could try saying you just killed the goblins to save Halsin in hopes for a cure, but you definitely didn't just stumble across me back at Moonrise towers. I know the others did tell you about me failing to guide them to Baldurs Gate safely, yet you chose to save me anyways. And yet with all of that you still apologize for simply waking me with your nightmare."

His eyes were on you while he was speaking and you know he was right.

Ever since you met him back at the grove you knew he had a good heart and you kept looking out for him.

Of course you grew fond of the other tieflings too, but there was something about him that always made you feel comfortable.

When you heard of what happened at the shadowcursed lands, you instantly knew something was wrong and you had to find him.

"Well of course I would look for you. I would never forgive myself if I hadn't tried everything."

"I hope there will be a day I get the chance to help you for once as I can't pay the debt I have with you already."

"You saved me from the bad thoughts the nightmare put on my mind tonight, so no debt you would have to pay anyways.", you said as you smiled at him.

"Your whole lifetime would have to be filled with nightmares to even get close to the amount of help I got from you, which is obviously not something I would hope for."

"So you are offering to sleep next to me for the rest of my lifetime?"

You had no idea where you found the sudden confidence to ask this, but you blamed it on how comfortable you got in conversations with him.

"I uh-..", he stuttered as obviously he wasn't expecting that kind of response. He laughed quietly but still looked down and you knew you caught him off guard. "My dear, we both know you could easily find better company for that."

"I would disagree on that.", you told him.

"Can you stop talking now? Some people are trying to sleep here! You can continue flirting tomorrow.", you heard Astarion say from the other side of the room.

"Shhhhh! You ruined their moment!", Karlach whispered and you couldn't help but laugh.

You were really glad for Zevlors lack of darkvision, so you could hide away the blush on your face easily.

Yes, they made that situation as awkward as it could possibly get, but honestly you wouldn't have it any other way.

(I couldn't stop myself from writing some more about zevlor, he seriously has my heart 😭 hope you enjoyed reading it!)

#bg3 #bg3 zevlor #bg3 tav #zevlor #zevlor x tav #zevlor x you

[spacebarbarianweird]

My Tav (Tiriel) Headcanons

Ok, so people were asking to post things about Tiriel and her relationship with Astarion Tiriel is a half-elf barbarian with chaotic good alignment

TW: mentions of child abuse (Tiriel is a mess)

Masterlist

Headcanons

Early life

Tiriell is a result of an affair between her married mother and a random high elf she didn't even know the name of.

Tiriel's mother was ashamed for falling for "elven charms" and wanted to forget that night Still, a newborn girl with pointy ears was the evidence of her unfaithfulness.

Tiriel was never loved by her mother - once, the woman even tried to drown her in a river.

Human stepfather used every slur he knew referring to elves and never addressed Tiriel other than "this girl" or "fairy bastard."

As a half-elf, Tiriel was much more beautiful and attractive than other girls in the village, which resulted in direct bullying from women and lusty looks from men.

Tiriel learned how to protect herself by looking ugly. Dirty hair, rags for clothes, name it yourself.

It didn't save her from beatings. When she was 12, the drunk stepfather cut her ear. The village healer managed to stitch it back, but it left a thin scar.

When Tiriel was 15, her siblings cornered her at the cliff and chanting, "Kill the elf," pushed her to a certain death.

Tiriel woke up to a bear who was ready to attack her. At this moment, broken, wounded, and scared, she felt a fire within her chest.

Barbarian rage. Fury, nothing can compare to.

She killed the bear with her bare hands and returned to the village covered in dirt and blood and with a deep cut on her face.

Tiriel beat her stepfather to bloody snot and left the village to never return.

Before the game

Tiriel spent twenty years wandering around Faerun, looking for people and places to call her own.

She met Elves eventually but felt even more like a stranger than among humans.

She didn't know how to speak Elven and knew nothing about her father's kin except for the racial stereotypes she had been fed.

Not a human, not an elf. A stranger among everyone, with no home, no family, no friends.

She joined different adventurous groups, often taking the leading role, but she was left alone once the adventures were over.

Despite being a beautiful woman, Tiriel considered herself ugly (the result of abuse and harassment). She always wore her armor and was ready to attack any man who would look at her.

She never was in a relationship, never had sex, and had very few people she could at least partially trust

At age of 35, she decided to visit Baldur's Gate. She had a wild thought to live the Swords Coast on a ship.

Astarion

It was love at first sight. From the first attack, to be honest

Tiriel knew he was manipulative - it was not the first time she had seen men like this.

But she enjoyed his sweet words.

For the first time in her life, Tiriel didn't cringe at a man who was saying sexual and sweet things to her.

She liked how Astarion made her feel beautiful and desired.

Tiriel suddenly felt a desire to look beatiful.

The more she talked to Astarion, the more relaxed she felt.

She saw a shadow of her own troubles in his red eyes, and Astarion was taken aback by some of her comments (how could she know what he felt?)

Tiriel gifted Astarion a Sussur Dagger, she crafted in the villaged destroyed by goblins.

When Astarion offered her sex, she agreed. She wanted to finally experience what it felt like

The night of passion didn't disappoint her - though she understood Astarion didn't love her and probably wanted something from her.

She just felt grateful for what he did to her body.

As if he washed away the disgust she felt

When he admitted he wasn't honest, she simply joked, "Well, and I wanted to manipulate you into marriage, so what now?"

She never built any trusted relationship with other companions, spending all the time with Astarion. He needed her, and she needed him.

Blood was a small price for having a man in her arms every night.

Tiriel agreed to help him to ascend but made a mental note, "only over my dead body."

She managed to persuade Astarion to be a better person than he thought he was.

But preparing herself for a very long journey to make him fully heal.

Post-game

When Astarion started burning in the sunlight, Tiriel was absolutely mortified. It was the moment when she fully realized what being a vampire meant.

They left Baldur's Gate the next day - they both wanted to see the world and never return to this wretched city.

Trauma is ugly, and Tiriel has to be patient, helping Astarion to adjust to freedom.

The most challenging thing is to convince him that negative emotions could exist.

"Yes, I am angry with you. You hurt me, but it doesn't mean I want to leave you."

Nightmares are unbearable, especially since Tiriel needs her eight hours of sleep.

Sometimes, he thinks his back burns. Sometimes, he doesn't recognize Tiriel. At times, he is so miserable, she doesn't know what to do or what to say.

There are moments when he runs away, and she has no idea where he is, only to wake up by him crawling to her side of the bed in a week.

"Where have you been", she asks Astarion craddling him with her arms.

"Was trying to run from myself", he replies.

Tyrael never told him about her childhood, but she eventually did. Astarion was in horror - at least, he was abused as an adult.

But there are people, still alive, who abused a little girl Tyrael was

His Tiriel.

And he can't stop thinking about a crying redheaded girl who can't understand what she is punished for.

From that moment, Tiriel feels that something changed. Astarion started giving away rather than receiving.

He wants to take care of Tiriel. He wants her to feel loved and wanted, the same way she made him feel.

With years, there is less angst and trauma between them but a relatively mature relationship between two equal people who know the world's sorrows.

They never had any formal ceremony. One day, when Tiriel suffered an injury in a fight, Astarion brought her to a healer and casually said that his wife needed medical help.

Astarion makes sure Tiriel learns at least something about Elves and teaches her Sylvan Elven, his mother tongue.

And to their mutual surprise, Tiriel feels much more comfortable speaking Elven than Common. It is just…natural.

Astarion calls Tiriel"Salen Aester" ("my beloved")

They truly make each other better. Suddenly Astarion feels it is ok to help random people in trouble.

And Tiriel isn't ashamed of her body or her existence.

Settling In

Tiriel and Astarion travel for 15 years.

But eventually, Astarion starts craving stability.

He never knew a home or a family. He desires things people consider "common and boring".

He wants to have a place to call his own

Tiriel hesitates - "home" brings unpleasant memories.

But she agrees to sette at a city-state far away from the Swords Coast.

Suddenly, Astarion wants to do his "law" job again. There are so many idiots who make contracts with supernatural entities. They will pay a fortune to the person who will save them from their doom.

The city's council carefully avoid the fact that Astarion is a vampire. They know he is, but it's always like, "He is the most trusted person this city has ever known, but he suffers from a rare skin condition. Please, don't raise this issue, Astarion is very sensitive about. So is his wife."

Meanwhile, Tiriel does what she does best - protecting people with her two-handed axe.

Their house is comfortable and cozy. There is a library with books in a dozen languages and a garden.

And with small windows and thick curtains

And a basement with Astarion's necromantic and dark magic things.

Family

By the time Astarion and Tiriel settle in, there are, let's say, some tales about weird children with vampiric features, but no one thinks those stories are true.

Besides, it's been 15 years. If Tiriell and Astarion could conceive a child, it would already happen.

And half-elves aren't really fertile.

One day, Astarion notices Tiriel's scent is different: Not weird, not bad - just different.

And her blood tastes unusual.

First, Tiriel thinks she is sick and goes to the healer, who simply says, "Take this herb; they are useful for the baby, and don't waste my time."

It is not clear who is more scared, Astarion or Tiriel.

Tiriel had the worst mother the history knows. She has no idea how to raise the child.

Astarion's issues are well-known.

And the books about vampire children only add to their shared anxiety.

"Dhampirs' blood is undead; it poisons and kills their mothers. Dhampirs are monsters, dhampirs are hated outcasts"

Did Tiriel's mother feel the same, carrying the half-elven child?

But a half-elf is one thing. A dhampir, half-undead, is something else.

Astarion does everything to make Tiriel feel comfortable, but she knows he is worried sick.

It's like a regression toward the first year of their relationship when Astarion was a traumatized mess.

Nightmares are back, he snaps at her more ofthen than usual,

Suddenly, Tiriel has this enduring fear she is going to die during childbirth.

Or that she carries a real monster within her that won't resemble a humanoid at all.

During labor, Astarion refuses to leave Tiriel's side despite the midwife's attempt to kick him out.

Tiriel has been through a lot, but she has never endures so much pain.

"It's an Elven girl," the midwife says, placing a screaming bundle in Tiriel's hands.

The girl has pointy ears, not like Tiriel's, but like Astarion's. Elven ears, not half-elven.

Astarion refuses to take the daughter in his hands.

"She is so delicate, so small, I will harm her."

Tiriel finally places the daughter in his arms, and Astarion turns into a weeping mess, pressing the newborn to his chest.

"Alethaine," he suddenly says. "Can we name her Alethaine?"

Tiriel was so scared all her pregnancy that she never actually thought about the name.

Alethaine Ancunin returns to her mother and Astarion watches his wife breastfeeding their daughter.

"Thank you for giving her to me," Tiriel whispers, caressing Alethaine's ears.

Parents

Tiriel tries her best not to be like her own mother.

She is patient with Alethaine, and so is Astarion.

When she comes back home after fighting yet another monster or an enemy, there is a little girl rushing to her arms.

"Was it a dragon? Dad told you were going to fight a dragon! How big was it?"

Tiriel had a tiny hope Alethaine would be just an Elf, not a dhampir - vampires can have regular kids who don't inherit undead features.

But Alethaine's fangs grew earlier than the rest of her teeth - while she was young enough to be breastfed.

And Tiriel learned it in a painful way.

Tiriel finds comfort in brushing Alethaine's long hair. And the girl allows her to do that even as a teenager.

"Kitten," Tiriel calls her. Alethaine resembles a kitten the same way Astarion resembles a cat. And she bites when she is angry.

Alethaine is smart, inheriting her father's intelligence - she learned to read at four and prefers books to toys.

But Alethaine also learns about her differences at a young age, noticing how neighbor kids avoid her.

Tiriel recognizes her younger self in Alethaine. Stuck between two worlds, asking herself what the hell is wrong with her.

Despite being "daddy's daughter", Alethaine comes to her mother to cry and complain more and more often, confiding her with her fears and anxieties.

The older Alethaine becomes, the more solitary she turns, spending days alone with books.

Sometimes, when people see Tiriel with her daughter, they joke, "What sort of crypt did you find this child?"

"I carried her in my womb and gave birth to her. I'd advise you to shut up before I rage."

Alethaine grew fast, turning from a little baby to a beautiful woman whose hair was silver like moonlight, eyes dark as night, and posture resembles one of a predator.

At 19, she decides to go on her own adventure and find her place in this world.

Tiriel trains her to fight - of course, Alethaine is not her mother, and she cannot lift her two-handed axe. But Tiriel can ensure Alethaine can protect herself if she has to fight someone with such an axe.

Astarion gives Alethaine a dagger as a parting gift - the Sussur Dagger he got from Tiriel years ago.

"Dagger is the last argument in a fight, princess; always be ready to use it."

Two Again

After Alethaine leaves, Tiriel and Astarion are alone for the first time in years.

Tiriel suddenly realizes how much they both changed. In a good way

Astarion is no longer a traumatized mess. He won. The spawn, a slave, that miserable creature he was no longer exists. It is replaced by this handsome man who fears no supernatural entity with their contracts, no monster hunters, not himself. He even looks younger than he did forty years ago.

And she, Tiriel, isn't that scared girl who just wants to feel loved by someone; she has won many battles, and her body bears many scars (including stretches left from pregnancy).

Astarion is immortal, Alethaine will live for centuries - but Tiriel has only 150 years left of her half-elven existence before death takes her.

But she knows Astarion won't step into the sun once she dies. He will live for Alethaine. And he will make sure every bard and storyteller knows about Tiriel's heroic deeds.

She will be remembered long after her death. She will be loved and missed.

"Thank you for giving all this to me," she whispers to Astarion when they sit together, stargazing on the roof of their house.

Astarion doesn't answer anything. He wraps his hands around Tiriel's waist and nuzzles her collarbone.

"Salen Aester," he finally whispers in the silence of the night.

--

Ok, this is much longer than I thought. But I hope you enjoyed it! And I will make NSFW version soon.

In the meantime...

--

Tag list

@tragedybunny @caitlincat-95 @tallymonster @astarionsbeloved @lumienyx @fayeriess @aoirohi @elora-the-slutty-songstress @veillsar @astarion-imagine-archive @micropoe10 @starlight-ipomoea @herstxrgirl

#write your Tav #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion romance #astarion bg3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion headcanons #baldur's gate tav #astarion headcanon #astarion x tav #bg3 tav #my tav #tav #tav bg3 #tav x astarion #baldurs gate tav #tav oc #alethaine ancunin #astarion x f!tav #baldur’s gate 3 #baldur's gate oc #spacebarbarian headcanon #tiriel of the sunset mountains #tiriel the barbarian #astarion x tiriel #oc tav: tiriel

[slusheeduck]

Fictober23 Day 19 - Prompt: "Give me that, before anything happens." Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

“Falerin, darling, the embroidery on your gloves is coming undone. It’s making me nervous.”

Falerin, bruised and battered after their most recent encounter with a set of Absolute cultists, looked over at Astarion, equally bruised and battered, as they returned to camp. He blinked. “Is this…really the time?” He shook his head. “I’ll just pull it out in the morning.”

“No, you will not.” Astarion’s hand was out, making a little grabby motion. “Just…give me that, before anything happens.”

Falerin sighed, rolling his eyes, but he handed them over. “Have fun. I’m going to go wash up.”

He did go wash up. By the time he returned to camp, his gloves’ embroidery was neatly restored, with a few holes darned up as well.

-

“Lae’zel, far be it from me to discourage showing more skin, but your shirt’s about thirty seconds from falling to pieces.”

Lae’zel whirled around at Astarion’s comment, eyes narrowed. “The target is just ahead. My shirt is immaterial.”

“Well, it’s nearly there.” Astarion held out his hand. “Let me fix it. It won’t take ten minutes, and you won’t be embarrassed when we do our good deed and you’re left in rags.” His fingers twitched in a silent give it here. “I’ll close my eyes if you’re feeling bashful.”

Lae’zel huffed and rolled her eyes, but she did stop long enough to shrug off her shirt and hand it over to Astarion. She watched as he pulled a needle, already threaded, from his pack, and settled down beside him to watch as he fixed it up.

“Why do you have that with you? It’s…unhelpful.”

“Perhaps to you,” he said, squinting as he lined up a large tear. “If I’m going to be killed by mind-flayers or goblins or cultists or what have you, I’m going to make sure I’m an exquisite corpse. Well, more than I am now, anyway. And I don’t want any of you bringing that legacy down because you look like a bunch of vagrants.”

True to his word, the shirt was fixed in under ten minutes. He held it back out to Lae’zel, who pulled it on. Her brows drew together.

“It’s…sturdier than I remember.”

“Well, part of that is because it was just barely hanging together. I reinforced the stitching along the arms.” He tucked the needle away and go to his feet. “Now that that’s done, let’s go hurt some people.”

-

Gale squinted at the pillow he’d picked up in the goblin camp. It…could do for Tara, if she came back around. A little threadbare, yes, but in decent enough condition.

“Looking at decorating?” Astarion drawled as he walked past. “I don’t think that really matches the rest of your décor.”

Gale sighed. “It’s for Tara. If she comes back—and I’m sure she will—I won’t hear the end of it if I make her sit in the grass.”

Astarion paused. “You’re getting…that for Tara? Are you trying to make her feel like a pauper?”

Gale huffed. “I don’t exactly have the luxury of stopping into a shop, do I?” He shook his head. “It’ll have to do.”

“It will not.” Astarion held out his hand. “Give it here.”

Gale looked over at him curiously, but shrugged. “If you can make it nicer, be my guest.”

The next morning, a “Gale, here” was all the warning the wizard got before getting a decorative pillow thrown directly at his face. He caught it after a slight fumble, then looked it over. It was the pillow he’d been looking at the night before, with a new lease on life from the look of it—the stitching had been reinforced and formerly threadbare flowers and vines restored. Most notably, though, was the large, flourished embroidery that read “Tara” in big letters along one side.

Gale blinked, bewildered. “That’s…thank you, Astarion, that’s surprisingly kind of you.”

Astarion scoffed. “It’s hardly kind. I did it because that’s what Tara deserves.”

-

“…you’re going to be here all week if you think that’s the best way to get stitching out.”

Shadowheart jumped, and she glanced back behind her at Astarion. She sighed, looking back down at the altar cloth in her hands. It was black and silky, with a mangled cluster of silver embroidery in the corner. She sighed.

“It used to have a prayer, down there,” she said quietly. “To the Lady of Sorrows. I really should just toss the whole thing out, but I…” She glanced over as Astarion held out his hand, fingers twitching. “Will…you throw it out for me?”

“Maybe.” He took the cloth from her, looking it over appraisingly. “Or maybe a black silk scarf will look terribly dashing on me. Either way, I’ll take care of it.”

Shadowheart gave a small nod, taking a breath. “I think I’ll go to bed. You can…do what you’d like with that.”

“Oh, I intend to. Good night, darling.” He sauntered off.

A few days later, as Shadowheart came out of her tent, she was greeted with her altar cloth neatly folded on a stool. The original embroidery had been removed without a trace, and instead of the expanse of black, a charming scene of a night sky had been embroidered into the silk, with a detailed moon hanging in the corner.

-

Astarion tried to ignore what he saw in the corner of his eye. He focused harder on his book, but the little brown blur in his peripheral didn’t go away. Not only that, but it got closer. Finally, he sighed and shut his book to look at the stuffed bear right beside his face. Behind it, Karlach wore a pleading expression.

“Asti?”

“You only call me that when you want something.” He clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. “Did you rip him again?”

“His ear caught on my armor when we were moving camp.” She turned Clive’s head, showing an ear just barely hanging on to his head. “Can you…?”

Astarion rolled his eyes, then held out his hand. Clive was deposited, and Karlach waited in eager anticipation as he went into surgery. After a few deft stitches, Astarion snipped the thread, then looked him over.

“His leg’s a bit loose, give me a moment,” he murmured, going back in with his needle. Shortly after, Clive—good as new—was held out to the tiefling. “Be more careful with him.”

“You’re the best, Asti,” Karlach gushed, giving Clive a squeeze before heading back to her tent.

-

“Wyll, you are causing me physical pain. Stop.”

Wyll looked up from his work. The shoulder of his cloth armor had torn in their last tussle, and he was using their bit of downtime to stitch it back up. Across from him, Astarion was leaning forward, hand against his mouth and red eyes boring into the warlock.

“I’m…just trying to fix it up. I do this all the time.”

“And you’re using a whip stitch?” Astarion held out his hand. “Give it to me. I can’t bear anymore of this torture.”

Wyll hesitated. “You really don’t have to.”

“Oh, yes I do. I’m not saving the world with someone who’s dressed like a scarecrow.”

Wyll sighed, then handed the armor, needle, and thread over. He scooted a bit closer as Astarion got to work. “I’m surprised you’re so good with a needle and thread.”

“Well, if Cazador couldn’t be bothered to give me more than rats to eat, it shouldn’t be surprising that I was on my own to keep from wearing rags.” He squinted at the tear, then set to work; his stitches were so neat and small that they disappeared into the cloth. “Besides, two hundred years of imprisonment is a very long time, even for elves. You need a hobby if you’re going to get out with your sanity intact. Embroidery’s good for that.”

Wyll smiled. “Maybe you could make a nice living on that once we’re done. Set up a nice tailor shop.”

Astarion scoffed. “Go on the straight and narrow? Wyll, you’re adorable, but there’s plenty of unattended goods out there just begging to find their way into my pockets.” He finished up his stitching, giving the armor an experimental tug before he snapped off the thread. “There. Do try to be more careful, and for the gods’ sake, just bring it to me before you butcher your next piece of apparel.” Fictober 2023 Drabble Master Post

#fictober23 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #wyll ravengard #gale #shadowheart #lae'zel #karlach #clive the bear #Camp seamstress Astarion is canon I'll fight you on it

[i-was-bored-so-this-happened]

Greensleeves Chapter Eight: The Lost Art Of Keeping A Secret

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Warnings: N/A Wordcount: 4.1k

As the party find a routine, things seem to settle down. Then Xaph learns what killed that boar. And what's bothering Gale. She shares her own burdens.

Read on AO3 Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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Gale and Xaph don’t get their quiet moment, not for over a week. Their night watch schedules don’t line up, and the House of Hope has provided them with enough food for over a tenday so there’s no need to forage. No one protests when Gale cements himself as camp cook, and he listens attentively when Xaph talks to him about mushrooms, when Wyll shows him how to decoratively cut fruit as though for presentation. Even Lae’zel starts to wean off her gith rations. The party figures out their hierarchy. Xaph has slipped into a leadership role. She manages to keep them on task and she knows how to navigate the land. She’s smart, and she has good instincts, and it’s working so far. Wyll is invaluable, a seasoned adventurer who does an excellent job of keeping tempers below boiling point. More than once he has to separate Lae’zel and Shadowheart like spitting cats, and that’s where Astarion comes in. He and Shadowheart bitch to one another in Elvish and they’re as secretive about their personal lives as ever but it gives them an outlet and no one can begrudge them that. Xaph takes Lae’zel to a dead tree and lets her take out her feelings on it. Joins her, sometimes. The rift between races is eased, if not yet quite erased, and the party at large begins to find their rhythm. The nightwatch rota is set and solid. The only true rule is not to schedule Lae’zel and Shadowheart together, not until they burn through the fighting frictions between them in daylight hours. Everyone has learned how to erect and collapse their own tents, though it still takes Astarion a while, and that rest time is precious and shouldn’t be wasted. Time spent around the campfire feels precious too. It’s around their food they begin to understand each other and build trust. 

One night, Xaph is restless. She’s caught in limbo,not quite awake and not quite asleep. The worm is exploring her brain and she just can’t get comfortable. Eventually, she wedges an arm under her head so her horns don’t dig into the ground and closes her eyes against the stars, determined that the worm is not going to take another night of sleep from her. In the end, this struggle might be a good thing. She’s only just barely asleep when she senses it. A presence. Not far away, either. Close. An animal, perhaps, tempted by the smell of food. A light-footed goblin scout. A vampire, she remembers the exsanguinated boar. When her eyes open, she’s still not sure what she’s looking at. Astarion. Pale as the moon against the night sky. His red eyes look down into her green ones, both sets equally surprised. Fangs an inch away from her throat.

“Shit.” He knows that she knows, but Xaph acts before he does. She moves instinctively, bringing a leg up to hook it over his hip and rolling until she has him pinned and her arm is braced against his collarbone. When he lifts his hands her tail snaps forward and smacks his wrist and he obediently holds his hands above his own head. He knows she’s stronger than him. “If you wanted to be on top, darling, you only had to ask,” the words are familiar, every jab he ever has is said as though he and his combatant are between sheets, but the tone is a little off, “Listen, it’s not what it looks like.”

“It looks like you’re a vampire.” Xaph says plainly. 

“Alright, so maybe it’s a little bit what it looks like.” Astarion admits. Is he…pleading? Desperation does not suit him. “I wasn’t going to hurt you.” Xaph eases her weight off him, and again his eyes widen in surprise as he scrambles into a seated position.

“Talk.” Does she trust him? Yes, yes, she thinks she does. He’s scared, and he’s still close enough that she can grab and overpower him.

“I just needed…well, blood.”

“That was your kill, wasn’t it? That boar.” She does trust him. Trusts him to have her back in a fight, and that’s what she needs.

“I’m not some monster. I feed on animals. Boar, deer, kobolds. Whatever I can get.”

“It’s not enough, is it?” Xaph asks, “You couldn’t even hide that boar.”

“The pig was fucking heavy!” Astarion cries, taking offence and throwing his hands out, but he sighs. “You’re right. I’m too slow right now. Too weak. If I had just a little blood, I could think clearer. Fight better. Please.” Yes, he’s pleading. She doesn’t know how to feel about it. A strange sensation charges through Xaph’s veins. He’s opening his mind to her, like Lae’zel had. He’s opening up. She was starting to think he couldn’t do that. He’s letting her in. She accepts, but tentatively. Letting him lock her out at any moment, but he doesn’t. Their worms connect with only minimal squirming. The memories are full of cracks and they shake. Scared. She’s seeing through his eyes again and none of the faces are clear, but there are dark eyes at the centre of all of them. Commanding. And he’s compelled. He can’t resist. But he doesn’t get to choose what he eats.

“That’s who you were talking about. The one who liked to play with people. Your master.” Xaph says, hushed. His ears relax, the very tips drooping. She didn’t know elf ears could move like that. Never paid enough attention to them, she supposes.

“Yes. Yes, I ate whatever disgusting vermin my master picked. So you can see why I’m slow to trust you,” he hesitates here, as though he’s not fully comfortable with his next words, “But I do trust you. And you can trust me.” Xaph watches him. She keeps her hands on her knees, palms up and open. 

“I do,” she tells him, and she knows she does, “I believe you.”

“Thank you.” It’s the most genuine gratitude she’s ever heard from him. “Do you think you could trust me just a little further? I only need a taste. I swear.” It makes sense. To feed from her, asleep and unknowing or awake and willing, would expend far less energy than chasing something and having to hold it down until it stops moving. He’s hungry. He’s in pain. He’s in need.

“Alright.” Xaph says eventually, and he’s surprised all over again. He’d expected her to shove a stick through his ribs, slice him open with his own dagger. The surprise pinches Xaph’s stomach. How long has it been since he was trusted? “But not a drop more than you need. I rather like life, whatever of it I’ve got left.”

“Really?” There, for just a moment, his confidence falters. The smooth veneer that covers his words shows a single hairline crack. “Of course,” he recovers quickly, “Not one drop more.”

“What do I do?” Xaph asks. Astarion gestures towards the bedroll,

“As you were. More comfortable, you see.”

She obliges. She has the upper hand should things go south. She lies on her back, as she had been, arm wedged under her head. Astarion hovers above her, going back to his own pose. He’s high on his knees, and each hand presses into the ground by her shoulders. She has the upper hand she has to remind herself. She’s not used to feeling like prey. The fangs are like shards of ice in her neck. Cold isn’t a familiar experience. Tiefling blood runs hellfire hot. It doesn’t hurt, not exactly, but it’s not pleasant either. Numb pressure on her neck, and a draining sensation. She can feel her pulse in the roof of her mouth, and then it starts to recede. To fade. Lightheadedness punches in. She punches him, pushing her fists into his shoulders until he detaches himself from her neck. He’s out of breath, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. Xaph’s blood. She can’t say she’s ever experienced this before. Her hand goes to her throat and finds twin puncture wounds, just like that boar. Her hand comes away coated red.

“Amazing,” that single word carries more weight than every syrupy pick-up-line he’s tried combined, “My mind is finally clear. I feel strong. I feel…happy.”

“I should hope so,” the night air is freezing against the bite marks, “I’m glad I could help.”

“Raphael was right about one thing. Your heart does bleed something awful. Not that I’m complaining.”

“I look forward to seeing you fight. Maybe you’ll win our next duel.” Xaph says, and it’s refreshing to hear him laugh. She wonders if her blood will bring colour to his cheeks.

“If you’ll excuse me. You’re invigorating, but I need something more filling,” Astarion says this somewhat dismissively, but he doesn’t turn away from her until she nods and settles back on her bedroll. Maybe now she’ll sleep. She sits up again to retrieve the blanket that had been tossed to the side when she’d launched herself at Astarion, and she sees that he hasn’t fully left yet. His back is to her, but his head is turned to the side so she can see his lips moving when he says,

“This is a gift, you know. I won’t forget it.”

***

Gale doesn’t sleep any more than Xaph does, pain chewing at his ribs and the muscles of his chest. Eventually, he rolls over and tugs the flap of his tent open to let the sunrise in. He can’t bring himself to move any further, not yet, so he lies on his stomach and lets the sun warm him up. Watches the rays of light dapple through the leaves on the trees. Xaph is already awake. She’s tied a burlap sack that must be full of rags and leather scraps to a branch, and is practicing with her bow. She’s still working on getting her arm in, and she can be found practicing most early mornings. Her stance is impeccable. She’s barefoot, as she tends to be in camp, her trousers slung low on her hips. She isn’t wearing a shirt, just her smallclothes. Red fabric that covers her chest and little else. Gale can see every muscle in her back moving, tensing, releasing. She’s strong. Could she lift him, if she wanted? The pink light of dawn is tinting her skin lilac. The skin of her back, her arms, is fascinating. There are raised lines, small spots. Freckles everywhere. Everywhere? No. Don’t. He has to move. He can’t lie here and watch her and let his mind wander. He manages to pull himself up into a seated position without making too much noise, though several muscles he’d forgotten about clench in complaint. 

Astarion enters the picture, the frame made by the blue fabric of the tent. His skin shines in the sun. His shirt is unlaced, his sleeves rolled to his elbows. He must say something, because Xaph turns her head to look at him as she lets her last arrow fly. Astarion gestures, and she raises her bow again though she frowns at him. She pulls her bow to full draw and he slides his hands over her shoulders as though to adjust her position. Down her arms, along every bump and ridge. Gale doesn’t know what to make of it, but he can’t bring himself to look away from the interaction and he fumbles for his clothes blindly. Xaph turns, shaking Astarion’s hands off her, and relaxes her own arms. She shows him how her fingers are positioned on the string of her bow, and Gale can’t quite tell but he thinks he sees her fingers flutter as they change position over and over again. Her gaze is fixed on her fingers. Astarion is watching her face. She smiles. She never shows her teeth, they’ve noticed. Astarion’s head tilts to the side. Then he puts his arms on her shoulders again. He pushes, turning her. Turning her to face Gale’s tent. Red eyes have found him. He’s been caught. At least he’s found a shirt to pull on before he’s dragged out of his tent.

“Don’t skulk, wizard.” Astarion calls. Xaph hisses something at him about not waking the others, hitting his shoulder, but he just smiles back at her. Down at her, he’s taller if you don’t count the horns. She elbows him and Astarion stumbles dramatically, hands clutched to his stomach as though she’s stabbed him. They talk a bit more, and Gale thinks he hears think about it, Astarion, as he ducks out of his tent. He’s managed to wrap his shirt around himself and tie it, but he’s struggling with the ties at his wrists and he doesn’t want to conjure a mage hand just for it to flicker in and out of the air. That would be one too many embarrassing missteps. First getting stuck in a rock, then freezing in combat, and then to fail at a simple cantrip? No, better to leave the ties trailing. When he reaches Xaph her back is turned to him as she pulls her arrows from her makeshift target. She leaves both her quiver and her bow against the tree. Navy, three or four shades darker than the rest of her skin, stripes her stomach. Previous battles scar the skin of her limbs. There’s a mark on her neck, but he can’t quite make out what it is. A small pile of fabric by the tree turns out to be a robe that falls past her knees. Deep green and patterned with yellowing ginkgo leaves. The ranger allows herself some luxuries then. 

“Shall we walk?” she asks, extending an arm to the woods. The sleeve of the robe is a handwidth wider than it needs to be and as she moves various sections of her abdomen are shadowed and highlighted. “Astarion can handle the watch until someone else wakes up.”

Xaph meanders away from camp, careful not to be walking with Gale rather than ahead of him. Something about this feels soft and timeless. The party don’t spend the majority of their time in simple clothes, and when they make camp it’s Xaph and Lae’zel who have the least qualms about shedding layers. Not Gale. He sits by the fire and tells stories and lulls the camp to sleep, but always wrapped up in purple robes. She didn’t know the shirt under his robe was the kind he has to fold about himself and tie at the sides. It ends halfway to his knees, not yet tucked into his trousers. The neck is a wide v, a shape she knows, but there’s a mark in the skin she hadn’t noticed before. Part of a circle, wispy. A tattoo. The wizard can be surprising when he wants to be. The silver in his hair is turned gold by the dawn, and the brown of his eyes reveal hidden depths in the light. He could weave enchantments with a squint of his eyes alone, she thinks.

The bank of the Chionthar is only fifteen minutes away. Trees rustle above their heads and the river rushes beneath their feet. Xaph settles cross-legged on the bank and lets her tail dip into the water just to feel it. Successfully tempted, she reaches out and lets her fingers slip under the surface. The water of the Chionthar is clear here, though she stirs up some mud with her fingers. Gale finds a low, nearby rock and sits. In silence. He watches as she devotes herself to feeling. The end of her sleeve is falling into the water but she doesn’t care. Her hair is loose and falling over her shoulder. Sunlight, pale yellow, dances on the river. Ripples where she makes contact. Sets her hair alight. A stranger could mistake her for a naiad if they stumbled upon her like this.

“It’s a wonderful morning.” Xaph whispers, her words a lily pad alighting on the river.

“A picture.” Gale agrees. Neither of them voice the next part of the sentiment. How many more mornings will they see? This morning, this sight. Immortalised in their minds for fear it might be their last. In another life they might be seeing it memorised in paint. Rather, Gale would see it in paint. Xaph may have seen the real thing. Felt the cold water against warm skin. Breathed the fresh air, nearby moss. She shuffles to face him, wiping her hand dry on her trousers before she presents it to him.

“Here. Let me tie those.” She offers. He leans forward after a moment’s hesitation, letting Xaph takes his hands into her lap. She smells of ginger. Their hands have touched often enough that the contrast of colour is no longer off-putting, but Xaph doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to how soft the skin of Gale’s palm is. She’s all too aware of her claws, as though she’s liable to tear him open. As though he’s made of silk. But he trusts her. He said so. She finds one set of ties and brings them high above his wrist. “You wax poetic about my virtues, Mr of Waterdeep, as though you have none of your own.”

“I can’t imagine what-”

“Shush.” She tells him, pushing a thumb into his pulse. She doesn’t expect him to listen, but he does. When she pushes, his fingers curl in on themselves. His veins are almost purple in his wrist.

“You’re a good man. You helped me without even knowing me. You calm Lae’zel and you take Shadowheart’s jabs,” when she looks up from her fingers it is directly into his eyes and they’re like pots of honey as light shines on him, “We trust one another, but we haven’t been entirely honest with each other, have we? And we are not in a situation that is conducive to keeping secrets. You intend on being honest with me, so I will be honest with you.” She leaves Gale’s wrist, now wrapped in the cuff of his sleeve, and moves onto the other one. Once she starts to work on that knot she looks up at him again. She’s offering him a trade, and he’s going to take it. He’s going to take it, but it still takes him a beat to get the words out.

“You see, I have this…condition. Very different from the parasite we share, but just as deadly,” Xaph’s brow furrows, but she doesn’t interrupt, “The specifics are rather personal, but suffice it to say that it is a malady I have learned to live with - though not without some effort.”

“Does it hurt?” she asks then. The back of his hand is flush to one of her palms, and the fingers of her other hand have stilled and curled around his wrist. The combination of contact and words soothes, if only superficially.

“Yes. Yes, it does. But one must take these things one step at a time. What it comes down to is this,” here he goes, all or nothing. Well. Not quite all. Not yet. “Every so often I need to get my hands on a powerful magical item and absorb the Weave inside.”

“Raw magic? Why?” 

“I can say no more on the matter. Not now, anyway. Just trust me when I say it’s all of vital importance. It’s been days since I last consumed an artefact. Since before we were abducted. By that I mean it is imperative that I find and consume the Weave at the earliest possible juncture, and I need your help to do so.”

“Where do we find these artefacts?” Xaph asks. We, that’s a positive. She finishes the knot at his cuff and settles her hands in her lap.

“As luck would have it, Faerun is full of them. Though I do feel obliged to point out that items of power tend to be in hands of power. There will be danger involved. Or great cost.”

“That sounds about on track with our lives at the moment,” Xaph admits when it’s clear that he’s done, “It sounds draining. Unlike anything I’ve ever heard of. Mind, I’m not primarily a spellcaster,” she pauses, then shifts so her palms are open to his again, “You ask me for help. I offer my hands.” Gale thanks her in as few words as he can manage, which is still a good dozen more than most people would use, and Xaph prepares to uphold her end of the bargain.

“I told you I’d had brushes with the infernal before. I’ve met Raphael more than once. He did offer me a deal, like I said, but that was only a year ago. Ten years ago I was messing around somewhere I shouldn’t have been, and Mephistopheles noticed. My family’s from his line, you see. He thought I’d found something - to this day I don’t know what - and he handed me over to his son to get the information out of me. Raphael had his fun with me but he knew I couldn’t give him what he wanted. I convinced him that I would be more useful to him alive than to his father dead.”

“You signed a deal.” Gale realises aloud. She’d told Wyll she hadn’t.

“Not in the traditional sense. It wasn’t a contract for my soul, no devil could convince me to part with that. It was a contract for work. Twenty years commission. I owe him one job a year, no questions asked. In exchange, my family and I are sheltered from Mephistopheles.” She ends her story there, staring at her tail in the river.

“Like you told Lae’zel. Your people aren’t compliant. You’re survivors. And you survived.” Gale lets his hand find Xaph’s. His fingers circle her thumb, not wanting to cross any sort of boundary he’s unaware of, but her fingers curl around his hand and squeeze. “You outmanouevered an archdevil and talked a cambion’s price down from your soul. Frankly, Xaph, I’m impressed.” A smile flickers. Her skin is warm and textured and he lets his hand sit in hers until she pulls away and starts to fiddle with a ring on her pinkie finger. It’s a plain thing, that ring, a copper band that only holds a single stone. An opal, he suspects, from the ever-shifting colours of it. He’s never seen her without it, but now she takes it off. Slowly easing it over the knuckle, leaving a strip of skin that is a slightly paler blue than the rest of her, hidden from the sun. She holds it out to him without a word. He takes it, though he’s a little confused as to why he’s being asked to examine it. Was it a gift from Raphael? Could he even use that word for such a thing? He knows the answer the moment he touches it. This ring is stuffed full of magic. It sits in his palm and he passes his other hand over it. The ring levitates, then drops.

“This is a ring of sending,” sending stones. Rare, powerful magic. Smiths in the Sembia region used to set them in gold necklaces. No mention of Sembia comes without mention of Netheril. “Where did you get this? If you don’t mind my asking.” Pain makes his manners something of an afterthought, but Xaph doesn’t begrudge him an answer,

“My mother made it,” she’s rubbing the join between her finger and her palm, “She made two pairs. One for me, and one for Quahala,” her sister, the one that lives in Waterdeep, “So that no matter what plane we were on, we would never be lost to her. Spell went a bit wonky a couple years ago and she couldn’t fix it. Only works when it wants now, but it does still hold magic.” She had been heard crying and cursing a few nights ago by Wyll and Shadowheart. Was this the reason? Had she been wrestling with the ring, trying to reach her family?

“I know it does,” Gale closes his hand around the ring, just for a moment, to strengthen his resolve. Then, “This is a precious thing to you. I can’t accept it.” When he goes to give her the ring back, she pushes his hand away.

“Take it.”

“Xaph-”

“Gale. It doesn’t work, and it can help you. Take it.” She insists. Compassion. Sympathy. She can’t bring herself to smile. It feels like she’s giving him her whole finger, ring still on. He tries to say her name again, but the soft sound of it is drowned out by a yell in the distance.

“A vampire?”

“Oh shit.” Xaph stands and brushes her trousers off.

“I’m sorry, did Lae’zel just say-”

“She did. Well. Uh. We all have our secrets. Astarion’s is that he’s a vampire, and it seems he’s decided to tell the whole camp without me,” her words are rushed and panicked now, and their sanctuary is broken, “Excuse me, I need to make sure they don’t kill him.” Xaph races away without another word. Her robe billows out behind her as she rockets back to camp. Gale is left sitting on the rock, her ring burning through his palm.

#rae's writing #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfic #bg3 #bg3 oc #rae's ocs #xaph [tav] #wyll ravengard #shadowheart #lae'zel #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #astarion #astarion ancunin #raphael #bg3 raphael #greensleeves

[catt-nuevenor]

How's BG3 been going? I wanted to see your option on the companions and story (if you've completed it yet lol). I have like 200+ hours in it so far and it's deff one of my new all time favs haha. Have you done a dark urge playthrough yet? I just finished mine it and it's really good—especially in the feels department. Anyways, I just wanted to ask one of my favorite writers opinions about my new favorite game! ❤️

Oh darling, beware the rabbit holes you stumble into. I could talk about Baldur's Gate for days upon days and still not be anywhere close to done.

Spoilers big and small, visual and text, for Baldur's Gate 3 and all previous games in the series. I have few opportunities to talk about the game so we're going all in here. You have been warned.

I've completed one playthrough and am act 2 deep into my second. First playthrough came out at 124 hours, trying to be relatively thorough, and I'd been an early access player so I always storm my way through act 1.

As for choices/options, let's do a quick rundown:

Umrae, Seldarine Drow, Monk of the Four Elements, Neutral Good

Saved the Tieflings in the grove

'Killed' Ethel

Zero interaction with the Zents

Killed a large portion of the Goblin camp

Destroyed the creepy book

Hung around far too long in the Underdark

Less so in the mountains

Did not complete Lae'zel's quest for Act 1 (I know, I know, I amended this playthrough 2)

Best friendship:

Romanced:

Least friendly companion... honestly a toss up early game between Astarion and Lae'zel. Long term definitely Lae'zel.

Dream visitor looked like this:

Main crew for acts 1 and 2:

Main crew for act 3:

First screenshot I figured out I could cut out the UI by pressing F10:

Quick run-through of other but not all important events:

Aylin and Isobel are my best girls, and nobody hurts my best girls.

Trusted Dream visitor about as far as I could throw them, and made that very clear at the end.

The underdark has a bunch of new residents and I feel like Umrae has some explaining to do when she gets home.

Nobody hurts Karlach and gets away with their skulls intact.

The hells have a new two person devil kicking team and a nice house to return to.

There's going to be a new bard's school in Baldur's Gate once someone cleans up the mess.

Shadowheart is going to have a house in the countryside with animals, flowers, a partner.

Lae'zel 'ascended'...

Gale is getting swimming and diving lessons.

And a quick smattering of my other favourite moments/screenshots from playthrough 1:

---

And this post is officially long enough. Let me know if you would like a similar one for playthrough 2, or more pics from 1.

As for Dark urge, I've tentatively done the set-up for that playthrough, and I think that will be playthrough 3. My character for that looks like this:

I really like how that shot came out...

Thank you so much for the excuse to share the pretty pictures and talk about the game.

P.S. And I just realised how I didn't really talk about the writing or characters in any of that... I'll do a second post that'll go more into the craft. Sorry, got carried away.

#asks #baldur's gate 3 #non story content #bg3 screenshots #bg3 #bg3 spoilers

[ab121500]

Okay, this is purely just cause i had feelingstm about a potential choice in the game with Wyll and what it would mean for my tav in particular. And THEN i saw a post about how Wyll might not have had many romances before because he thought it was selfish and that just encouraged me to like actually post this dumb thing i wrote. (And tumblr needs more Wyll content anyway)

Spoilers for Act 3/The end of Wyll's questline

"I can make you into the grand duke." His father's voice was firm, proud even.

Wyll felt his words get stuck in his chest. Him? The grand duke of Baldur's Gate? Was his father mad? His mouth opened to reply, only for Dove to cut in. "We need to talk." Her hand was shaking as she dragged him to a private clearing.

"I can't believe this madness. Me? Grand Duke? I look like a monster! I would be more likely to scare everyone than inspire them." He paced back and forth in front of his love, standing while she sat on the soft grass of the clearing. "Not to mention, the Sword Coast needs me, it needs the Blade. Plus, turning it down means we can be free and happy-"

"I wouldn't be happy." Dove's words were soft, and yet the sharpness of them dropped his excitement to the bottom of Avernus.

"W-what?" He couldn't believe what he was hearing. She stood and took his hands.

"Wyll." Her voice was strained. "I am not an adventurer. I'm not someone who finds joy fighting goblins and killing demons. I've done that now because I had to." Her hands were shaking again. "For fucks sake, I'm a noblewoman. I was raised to perform little shows in the upper city and schmooze the dukes. Not… to do what you need to do as the Blade." She took a deep breath. "I want that life back, Wyll. My life back. You being the grand duke would do that."

He was stunned, never even considering that Dove was completely out of her element. His enjoyment of his lifestyle blocked the idea that anyone, especially the love of his life, would hate it. Now he was conflicted; he needed to be the Blade, that's who he was, but being the blade meant his partner would be miserable. Being the grand duke meant he'd be miserable, but she'd be happy. There was no winning scenario. After all they'd been through, freeing himself from Mizora and stopping the dead three's chozen, he never even considered the possibility of not continuing his adventures.

Dove knew of his hesitation, she always did. She could tell the slightest of emotion changes with the twitch of an eyebrow, and he was clearly concerned. Her hands gave his own a firm squeeze, bringing him back to her. "Wyll, I know that becoming the Duke would be your worst nightmare. Maybe something for you to do when you're old and done adventuring, but not now especially not when there still is so much to be done. You know that I would resent you if I was forced to participate in that life." She swallowed, and he waited. While being a warlock meant he was good with words, bards were even better and Dove was the best of the best. "So, I purpose that we get married tonight."

He did a double take. "What? Not that I wouldn't want to, but.."

"If we get married tonight, I will become a Ravengard. I can assume the title of the grand duke whilst you're away. You can stay the Blade, visiting the city often to see me. And once you're done with your adventures, I can pass the title to you. Not to mention, getting married now instead of later means all our friends can attend. We both know Karlach's engine is bound to blow any day now, and I promised her she'd be apart of our wedding." One of her hands moved to his cheek, brushing a half circle under his good eye with her thumb. "Besides, I love you. Getting married now means that even if we fail tomorrow, I can still call you mine and I yours."

His heart swelled with love, hearing her little speech, feeling like the luckiest man in the world to be able to call her his. "I can't deny that logic." Her little smile made him get butterflies in his stomach, and he never wanted that to stop. "Lets tell everyone, we're going to need their help to get this going." He was about to pull away from her, but he stopped a moment before adding. "But first." He placed a hand on her cheek, tugging her face upward and into a loving kiss.

This is so dumb lmaooo there is more to it but i think i'll save more of my embarrassment for later lmao

#wyll ravengard #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 wyll #wyll bg3 #baldurs gate wyll #wyll romance #tav x wyll #bg3 #oc: Eldove Oberon (Dove) #depending on the reaction to this I might post the rest #and also maybe post more about my tavs in general lmao

[its-jaytothemee]

Until I Met You - Chapter 8

Chapter 8: The Path Forward

Pairings: Halsin x Tav

Word count: 3,627

Rating: Currently M, will be Explicit in later chapters.

Read on AO3

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Summary: The party makes their way back into the Underdark, discouraged and down on their luck after their time at the Creche. Now, they have to decide how they can move forward and find a new lead to cure their tadpoles. Part 8 of the slow burn fic. Halsin and Tav POVs

Tags: Slow burn, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual love confessions, eventual smut, light angst, implied past rape/non-con and abuse, graphic description of injuries.

A/N: Sorry for the wait between updates here! Life got a bit hectic for a couple of weeks. I ended up needing to split the Underdark chapters up so they wouldn't get too long. The next one should be a much shorter wait :) Thanks for continuing to read!!

Tav led her dejected group of adventurers back through the wilderness, making their way down to the Underdark again. While she was still unconscious, the others had found another entrance to the Underdark in the Zhentarim hideout. Given that it was a little closer, they opted to go this way rather than march all the way back to the goblin camp.

Last night, just as everyone was beginning to turn in for the evening, an unexpected visitor had shown up at their camp. Kith’rak Voss, knight supreme, and a fellow traitor in Vlaakith’s eyes. He came to recruit Lae’zel to his cause, to overthrow Vlaakith’s unrightful rule. Apparently, the prism they carried held the key to her demise. He explained that the purification process githyanki boasted about was nothing but a bold-faced lie. The zaith’isk does not extract, it only kills. They had promised to meet him in Baldur’s Gate, should they survive that long. Lae’zel had been strangely quiet about the ordeal, likely still coming to terms with the fact she wasn’t welcome with the majority of her kin. So now, not only were they still hosting mind flayer parasites, but they had been branded enemies of Vlaakith herself, doomed to be hunted across the Sword Coast by her faithful. Fighting their way out of the Creche was difficult enough, she wasn’t looking forward to the lich queen sending her best warriors to pursue them.

Tav’s disappointment was plain to see in her slumped shoulders and shuffling footsteps. The past two days were a detour they could scarcely afford, and she was the one who pushed them in that direction. Even Karlach seemed subdued, merely chuckling at any half-assed quips Astarion let out rather than her normal cackle. He was the only one who was relatively content with keeping his tadpole, allowing him to walk in the sun a little while longer.

Halsin jogged his way up to her at the front of the group. He slowed his pace to walk alongside her.

“I can’t help but notice you’re looking a tad displeased.” He said.

“I think I’ve earned the right to feel a little upset right now, Halsin.” Tav knew he meant well, she just didn’t have the energy to joke right now.

“Of course, I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise.” His voice lowered a bit, sending a stab of guilt into Tav’s gut. She let out a heavy sigh.

“I’m sorry. I just don’t know what to do next. They followed me to the Creche, which was a dead end. Almost literally.” She remembered their bruised and battered bodies stumbling into camp last night. Her shoulder still ached slightly from falling off of a ladder during one of the fights.

“I know. I can see the uncertainty in your eyes. You think you’ve wasted precious time following false hopes. I can’t imagine my sulking helped with that guilt.” He looked away from her for a moment.

“First and foremost, your priority has been to remove the tadpoles lodged in your heads. You had no way of knowing where Lae’zel’s hunch would lead, at the time it seemed like the most rational path. And you are not the only one here who chose that path.”

“That’s kind of you to say.” Tav responded, her eyes still stuck on the dirt road in front of her.

“I know something of doubting your choices as a leader, my friend. As I told you, I’m here to lend my counsel whenever needed. I’ve met many people who have claimed to be leaders in my life, few have had the heart and compassion that you do. It’s obvious how you care for those in your company, you make decisions with great respect and consideration.” He kept his voice low so only they could hear.

She stayed silent for a while longer, thinking on his words. When their group had decided to band together, she hadn’t exactly meant to be their leader. At some point everyone just started to defer to her for all major decisions.

“I know that this is quite the setback, but please do not doubt yourself so heavily, Tav. Everyone trusts you a great deal – myself included. I doubt that anyone here is a stranger to disappointment and defeat. Except perhaps Shadowheart, but that is only because she is missing so many of her memories.” His last quip did make her chuckle a little.

“I am confident that you will all recover swiftly.”

“What makes you so sure?” She asked, finally looking up at him.

“Because you have no other choice, I’m afraid.” He had a sad smile on his face. They continued walking together, Halsin had grabbed one of her packs from her injured shoulder to carry. Lunari trotted around them, every now and then bumping her head into their legs to get them to pet her.

“I truly am sorry that you weren’t able to be cured of the tadpole yet.” Halsin broke their silence. “But if it is any consolation, I am grateful to have a few more days in your company.” He briefly rested a hand on her shoulder as they walked.

“As am I.” She replied. “Except…you know…about you.” A familiar warmth covered her cheeks at her awkward rambling.

Come on, Tav. I thought we were past this now.

As they approached Waukeen’s Rest, she let some of the others take the lead. They took her and Halsin down through the hideout, the smell of ash and decaying bodies filled her nose. As she looked over the ledge just inside the secret entrance, she saw that almost everything, and everyone, had been burnt to a crisp

“What in the hells did you guys do here?” Tav asked, covering her nose with the back of her hand.

“What? Like it’s our fault that they had the entire area laced with explosives? Karlach is literally a walking flame, darling. Accidents happen.” Astarion waved his hand dismissively.

“Hey now, Karlach didn’t touch the explosives at all. Gale was the one with speedy spell fingers.” Karlach had run up to join them.

“To be fair,” Gale started, pointing one index finger up in the air, “the fire bolt wasn’t aimed at the explosives, it was aimed at one of the Zhentarim. Who caught on fire. And then wandered too close to an oil barrel.” The little bout of banter brought a smile to Tav’s face. She was relieved to see they hadn’t completely lost their sense of humor.

Towards the back of the hideout, there was a concealed elevator of sorts. It looked old, Tav was skeptical about all of them piling onto this at the same time.

“I think we should probably go in groups. This seems a little…dated.”  She gulped as she inspected the ropes and pulleys attached to the platform. Everything at least seemed in good working order.

“Who wants to go first?” She asked.

“After you, darling.” Astarion teased.

“I uh, I can wait for the second group.” Tav said quickly as she took a step away from the platform.

Everyone looked at her curiously. Astarion and Karlach started to giggle a little bit.

“Are you…are you afraid of heights?” Astarion pointed an accusing finger at her.

“I’m not afraid! I have a healthy skepticism of old wooden machinery that happens to dangle a mile above the ground.” She could feel her cheeks getting warm at the teasing.

“I’m sorry, you can slaughter a camp of goblins, a hag, an entire Creche filled with githyanki warriors, and a fully grown owlbear. But you draw the line at a little elevator ride?” Astarion was laughing harder now.

“Well, if you’re so confident why don’t you hop on?” Tav shot back.

“Fine if it’ll help you get over your fears.” He waved his hand in the air again and strode over to the platform, jumping on it lightly to show how sturdy it was.

“See? Nothing to be worried about.” He crossed his arms and stared her down.

She flared her nostrils at him and pressed her lips into a hard line. With everyone staring at her, she took a few tentative steps toward the wooden platform. Her heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest. The first step she took onto the elevator caused it to wobble slightly and she recoiled away from it, slamming into Halsin behind her. He smiled down at her and stepped to the side to walk onto the platform next to Astarion. He turned around and held his arm out to her. Tav quickly dug a scroll of Feather Fall out of her pack and held it against her chest...just in case. She nervously reached out with her other hand to grab Halsin’s arm and pulled herself tight against him. Wyll walked on behind her as well and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Lunari trotted over to lay down at her feet, giving a soft whine. Tav continued clinging to Halsin as the winch began to turn and slowly lower them back into the Underdark.

***

Halsin was grateful for the lower light to hide his blush and grin. Tav was breathing heavily and grasping the Feather Fall scroll in one hand, turning her knuckles white. She had her face buried in his shoulder and both of her arms wrapped around his arm tightly. Her free hand had his in an iron grip, digging her nails into his knuckles. She must have been terrified based on the fact she didn’t seem to be blushing or embarrassed as she held onto him like her life depended on it.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t call you our ‘fearless’ leader anymore.” Astarion giggled.

“Fuck off.” Tav’s voice was muffled by Halsin’s shoulder.

Tav let out another shaky breath as the platform swayed in an unnerving manner. He watched as they slowly descended through the ground, the environment around them gradually shifting to the strange flora of the Underdark. After a long ride, he could finally start to make out the ground beneath them. The glowing crystals and mushrooms lit the area below, giving them just a little more light to see by.

“We’re almost there, Tav. I can see the ground now.” He whispered as he briefly placed his other hand on one of her arms. She nodded against him in response, still maintaining her death grip.

“You know, Tav, you really are missing a splendid view.” Astarion mocked from the other side of him. “Just open your eyes, face your fe–”

Halsin cut Astarion off with a small nudge, just enough to make him think that he could go tumbling over the edge of the elevator. Of course he wouldn’t let that happen, he had a hold of the back of his shirt. The small squeal that escaped Astarion’s throat was worth it though. Wyll was stifling a laugh on the other side of Tav.

“How clumsy of me.” Halsin said with a smirk. Astarion glared at him over his shoulder.

“Oh gods…why are we shaking?” Tav somehow managed to squeeze him even tighter, causing him to grunt in pain.

Worth it.

After a few more minutes, the elevator hit the ground below. Tav remained stuck to his side even after they stopped moving.

“Tav? We made it.” Halsin urged her gently. She slowly rotated her head to peek at their new surroundings, releasing a relieved sigh when she saw they were once again on solid ground. Right on cue, she realized she was still clinging to Halsin’s arm and jumped to the side like he had shocked her; her cheeks turned that endearing shade of pink.

“Oh! Ha, thanks.” She laughed awkwardly and looked down at his hand spotting the small nail marks she left there. “Oh shit…I’m sorry about that.”

“Nothing to worry about, you didn’t even draw blood. I’m sure the marks will fade within the hour.” He smiled at her reassuringly, trying and failing to keep his mind from wandering. He found himself imagining the marks lined up and down his body.

No, stop it. Get ahold of yourself, Halsin.

He shook his head to force himself back to his current conversation. Astarion had a smug grin stretched across his face.

“Yes, no worries, Tav. I’m sure he’s used to the feel of your nails digging into him, what with your recent late-night excursions and all.” He teased, batting his eyelashes as his eyes shifted between her and Halsin.

His breath caught in his throat and Tav’s eyes went wide, her skin now turning a shade that matched Karlach’s. Wyll looked between all three of them, obviously confused and scared to ask for clarification. The elevator behind them started the ascent back up to the Zhentarim hideout.

“No that’s…it’s not what…we haven’t even…I don’t…” Tav was sputtering nonsensically. “Argh! You are so annoying, you know that?” She yelled at him as she stormed off in a huff.

Halsin thought she’d scour the entire Underdark easily at the pace she was setting. But a strange voice called out to them, stopping her in her tracks.

***

“They are coming.” The voice calling out to Tav in her mind was gruff, yet somehow melodic and charming as well.

“Please tell me I’m not the only one hearing that voice.” She said quietly.

“No, no I heard it too.” Halsin sounded concerned.

Wait…Halsin?

“You can hear it?” Tav asked, shocked. She assumed it was something to do with the tadpole. Wyll and Astarion must have shared her theory because they whipped around to stare at him as well.

“More are coming. You are coming.” The strange voice glided out of her thoughts.

“What the fuck.” She mumbled under her breath.

“Please tell me we aren’t going to look for the source of that voice.” Astarion pleaded.

“Something tells me we won’t have much of a choice.” She sighed. “We’ll wait for the others before moving on just in case.”

Astarion dramatically threw himself onto a pile of crates.

“For fucks’ sake…” Tav muttered. “Here, you big baby.” She reached into her pack and fished out a couple of lockpicks and some tools for disarming traps.

“Why don’t you keep busy and start looking through some of these chests, huh? That one looks expensive.” She held the small tools out in her palm, trying to entice him out of his tantrum. He looked up and gave her a brooding look. “You can keep the gold you find.” She pumped her eyebrows up and down a couple of times.

“You have to ask nicely.” He pouted. She flared her nostrils at him and fought off an eye roll.

“Oh, Astarion…your hands are so slight and nimble. Your fingers dance around locks like silvery rays of the purest moonlight. None of us could compare with that level of finesse.” She said the words in the most monotone way possible, gesturing her hands lazily at the chests and boxes around them.

“And…?”

“You are such…an…” She gritted her teeth, not wanting to finish.

“Say it.” Astarion coaxed.

“Inspiration.” She growled.

“Oh, stop it, darling. You’re embarrassing yourself.” He slid over to her and snatched the tools out of her hand before running off with a giggle.

Whatever, it’s better than him sulking until the others arrive.

Tav and Wyll went through some of the unlocked crates to look for any supplies. Halsin seemed distracted as he took in the Underdark surroundings, he had a distant look on his face that worried her.

“Halsin? You okay?” She asked quietly as he blankly stared over the Underdark landscape ahead of them.

“Hm? Oh, of course. My eyes are still just adjusting to the darkness here.” He smiled lightly, but there was a nervous undertone to his voice. Before she could press the matter further, Karlach’s voice called out to her.

“Hey, soldier! You made it down in one piece. No big deal, right?” Her giant smile shone easily through the darkness.

“Outside of clawing Halsin’s arm to shreds? Yeah, no big deal.” She rolled her eyes slightly. “Listen, we have a situation.” Tav explained the voice they heard.

“More voices? My mind is full enough of those as is.” Gale complained.

“I have a feeling we need to go towards it. When it entered my mind, it felt…scared. Like it was a cry for help.”

“The last time you had a feeling, we ended up fighting dozens of githyanki warriors for our life. Besides, we can hardly afford another detour.” Astarion had come back over to join the group and draped an arm over Gale’s shoulder. He was wearing noticeably more jewelry than before, a golden chain adorned with tiny sapphires dangled from his hand.

His words caused Tav to withdraw slightly, her earlier guilt returning tenfold. She looked around the group of tired faces, suddenly feeling paralyzed. What if she made the wrong decision again, delaying them further? Her eyes fell on Halsin who gave her a reassuring nod.

“And what if the help they need is related to the Absolute?” She finally said. “What if they can help us find our way to Moonrise? We have no idea where this secret stronghold is.”

“Which is why we should have just taken the route from the Mountain Pass. We have to deal with the shadow cursed lands eventually, we might as well just get it over with.” Wyll countered. He had suggested the route before – he was anxious to find his father.

“Perhaps, but the area just past the Mountain Pass is heavy with the curse. I fear if we went that way we would not long survive before the shadows would overtake us.” Halsin spoke up.

“Halsin’s right, the shadows there are a wicked, terrible presence. Some types of light will protect us for a short time, but it won’t be enough. We’ll be lucky if we can make it to Moonrise Towers before it consumes us.” Tav shuddered at the thought.

“No…we need to find out how the cultists are able to traverse the land safely. If we can find this secret passage, we’ll likely find out how they’ve made it that far.” She insisted.

“How bad could it be? We’ve got Shadowheart to cast some handy light spells, we can scrounge up some torches, not to mention that nifty glowing mace we found. So long as we stick together, I’m sure we’ll be fine!” Karlach’s peppy tone did little to calm the anxiety gripping Tav.

“Well spoken, Karlach. I agree, we haven’t gone too far yet…” Wyll continued talking, but Tav couldn’t listen anymore.

The darkness around her swirled like smoke, choking her, trying to bring back memories of those cursed shadows. She forced them down, refusing to let them overtake her now. They didn’t understand, how could they? There was no way to explain to them the horrific magic that awaited them at Moonrise. Her vision swam, her chest burned with anxiety and dread. She felt the phantom claws of shadows and wraiths reaching for her arms, struggling to pull her into the wicked darkness around her, beckoning her to follow.

“No!” She bellowed, startling everyone as they whipped around to face her again. “I’m not spending any longer in that cursed land than I have to. None of you understand, you weren’t there!”

Involuntary tears started streaming down her face, dripping off of her chin and soaking the collar of her shirt. She wrapped her arms tightly around her body and squeezed her eyes shut to try and force her tears to stop. It didn’t help, she continued to sniffle as dark memories tried to drag her down into their abyss. Her knees buckled, and she fell to the ground, still tightly clutching her own chest.

“You weren’t there…” She whispered between sobs.

The others simply stared at her in stunned silence. She hung her head and tried to gain some semblance of composure.

“If you won’t follow me on this path, feel free to go back on your own. I’ll continue through the Underdark alone if I must. Perhaps we’ll be able to meet again at Moonrise.” She barely choked the words out. “Just don’t ask me to go back there yet. I can’t. Not until I know that I can protect us.” It hurt her to offer the ultimatum, she was really starting to consider them friends. She couldn't stand the thought of them facing the curse without her guiding them, but she couldn't go yet. She knew exactly what was waiting for them and she was terrified of going back. No, she needed more time to prepare.

Everyone exchanged uneasy glances with one another but said nothing. Tav slowly stood up and turned away from them, ready to continue on by herself. A large hand gently grabbed her arm and pulled her back. She glanced over her shoulder to see Halsin standing behind her.

“You won’t be alone, Tav.” He assured her. She turned around to face him as the others walked up to stand with them as well.

“Of course you won’t be. We’re with you, soldier.” Karlach added. “If you say this is the way, I’ll follow you.”

The rest of the party walked up behind her, all nodding and murmuring their agreement. They would stay and follow her, hopefully to find a way through the shadows.

“Lead on, friend.” Wyll patted her shoulder.

Tav nodded and took a shaky breath. She knew that their path was leading back to Moonrise Towers, it was unavoidable now. But she at least had a few more days to prepare for it. As she moved to start leading them further into the Underdark, Halsin’s hand briefly passed over hers, his fingers lingering against hers for just a moment longer than expected.

#bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 halsin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #halsin x tav #halsin fanfic #halsin silverbough #bg3 fluff #bg3 headcanons #halsin fluff

[wellthebardsdead]

Falûne good end 3 (the spider and the moon)

Astarion ascends despite Falûnes wishes and following the fall of the absolute Falûne accepts his cambion form as who he is deciding it doesn’t define his goodness as a person. After a not so amicable breakup he leaves baldurs gate for moonrise towers to be given his title as a high priest before travelling to the blighted village to aid Shadowheart in its rebuilding. But, not before finding love in one of his most unexpected allies*

———

Falûne: *sitting alone in the waning moon, watching as harpers and refugees relax with a meal and drink following a long days work. Us, scratch and the owlbear Cub all by his side enjoying some rest as their master eats his fill*

???: Well, here’s a face I was not expecting to see.

Falûne: *blinks and looks up to see minthara approaching from the bar, the Paladin smiling in his direction* Minthy? Is that you?

Minthara: Yes, I emerged from the underdark to gather some supplies from more amicable folk compared to my kin, and I find myself in pleasant company instead. *sits across from him, her eyes immediately growing cold and her expression dropping as she spots a distinct bruise on his neck* …What happened?

Falûne: …I… left Astarion… I’d read that an ascended vampires obsession could grow to dangerous lengths but… I never expected him to turn violent with me.

Minthara: *reaches over and unlaces his collar, pulling it down a little in one swift motion to show a butchered bite mark, skin ripped in places and several extra puncture wounds from several attempts at keeping a hold of him. The struggle already evident from the sheer level of bruising* …I will pull his teeth from his gums for this. *casts lay on hands healing it*

Falûne: *relaxes into her healing touch* it’s fine… I think he learned his lesson well enough when my knee found his groin… and if that didn’t do it than the concussion he received when I threw him down the stairs surely would have done so.

Minthara: *pulls away and ties the lace back up before sitting down again with an amused chuckle* I’ve bared witness to your strength and willingness to survive, he should have known better than to expect you not to fight back… but where will you go now? Baldurs gate is his stalking ground. Do you plan on seeking refuge in the hells with your uncle?

Falûne: no, I was actually planning on heading to where we first met and helping with the cleanup effort.

Minthara: where we first- Ah. You mean when you came flying through the goblin encampment on a devilish blood lust. Huh, the glimpse I caught of you before you were upon me was a frightening, divine sight to behold indeed.

Falûne: you, liked? That?

Minthara: A display of power and unbridled fury of a prince of the hells? Absolutely~ and if it weren’t for you finding mercy in that moment to only knock me unconscious, I would have missed out on more of your grander. *looks at his wings and second horns* I am glad to see you embracing your powers, and tempering them with your calm mind.

Falûne: it is my heart that tempers me. After spending my whole life trapped by a curse that devoured my memories, I find it difficult to trust my own mind.

Minthara: Hm. I doubt that greatly. Your mind overpowered that of an elderbrain right before my very eyes. You convinced a war devil to kill his own minions and then himself with your quick wit and razor tongue. And you defied Z’rell and ketherics influence enough to save me from their grasp… I trust your mind more than I do my own… And, I’d like, to see myself through your eyes once more, if I may.

Falûne: … *smiles and nods*

Minthara: *casts detect thoughts and peers into his mind, seeing herself through his eyes with a familiar, comforting, and loving glow* you… are returning my sentiment for you?

Falûne: you were right… I should have chosen you over him… I made a huge mistake trusting that he wouldn’t break my heart… he knew the risk him ascending posed to me and still did it. If uncle Raphael didn’t step in to save us from Mephistopheles I… I’d be nothing more than his phylactery and astarion the body he’d be possessing.

Minthara: and now you wear your grandfathers horns as your crown.

Falûne: I… actually handed the throne of Cania over to uncle Raphael. I’m still a prince but- *hugs himself with his wings* hell is a horrible place… I’d much rather be here, with you.

Minthara: I’m glad to be here with you too… *places her hand on his* I want you. All of you…

Falûne: *smiles at her and takes her hand* my heart cannot take much more grief… please be more gentle with it than he was.

Minthara: *nods* You have my word. No one. Not even I will harm it again… and together. We will destroy my family house, and kill Astarion.

Falûne: *quirks his brow*

Minthara: … *sighs* And help rebuild the village and temple of Selûne.

Falûne: thank you minthy.

#minthara bg3 #Falûne Tav #falûne oc

[lesbiansupernatural]

I really enjoy playing video games, and am usually quite okay at it, but I for some reason am completely incapable of doing them correctly. Let me explain.

I usually aim for 100% completion in all games I play, which in turn tends to make me accidentally do things in the wrong order. In addition to this I am slightly stupid and fuck up a lot, so here are some of my best moments:

1. Skyrim: was gifted the game by a friend who loves it and was immedeately hooked. After having played non stop (apart from school) for about two weeks, my friend asked me what my favorite shout was. My response? "What the fuck is a shout??" I'd played the game for two whole weeks and just casually not gotten to that quest yet. I had the quest in my log, but I was running around doing other things, also killed a few dragons and had to go back later to be able to absorb their souls

2. Stardew valley: Played the game till I got tired of it, 100+ hours. Put it away, and then realized that romance is a thing in the game. I did not have a single hint of romance in my play through lmao

3. Baldur's gate: I during the entire thing with the thieflings in the glade I somehow fucked up enough to kill every single person there, causing me not to have the thiefling party and not get the Halsin quest. I did not realize there was another solution to that problem until halfway through act two.

I also managed to enter the goblin camp the wrong way, so I entered through the exit. During this I somehow killed Halsin. Then as I exited the camp I got the pop up for the Halsin quest, and then immedeately after a pop up saying the quest was over

4. Assassin's creed: when I play open world games I usually try to do every side quest etc I can before continuing with the main quest. In the ac games you also have a neat question mark for everywhere you haven't been. So any time I entered a new a new area, I'd loot everything. This caused me to get an inventory FILLED with quest items I did not have the quests for yet. Also ended up with a lot of quest items I never got to use after finishing the game

5. Horizon forbidden west: I did not realize there were areas of the map you needed a flying creature to access, so before unlocking said creature I was going around trying to explore every single location. Somehow also managed to glitch my way into one of the places that could "only" be accessed by flying. (I jumped like a million times till I managed to angle it correctly so I was able to jump into a tree and then jump the fence that way)

Also feel the need to mention that I do not own a sense of direction, and this is often revealed in the way I play games. I have a bunch of examples, but let's do the one where I tried to play breath of the wild.

I entered into a room. Straight ahead was a very obvious opening for where to go next, but I wanted to make sure I didn't miss anything in one of the corners. So I walked around the room, "oh look! A secret door!" I opened said door, expecting a smaller room with some loot in it. What actually happened? I walked back outside...

That's all I can remember for right now, but there is most likely a BUNCH more

#gaming #shitpost #playstation #skyrim #stardew valley #baldurs gate 3 #asassins creed #horizon forbidden west #zelda breath of the wild