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orangechickenpillow · 4 months

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Bg3 as unhinged posts 7/?

Part 6

#bg3 isobel #bg3 dame aylin #dame aylin x isobel #bg3 lae'zel #lae'zel #bg3 shadowheart #shadowheart #bg3 jaheira #jaheria #bg3 karlach #karlach #bg3 #bg3 memes #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 meme

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madwomansapologist · 3 months

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i will explain myself about a few things:

I respect Khalid too much to put Jaheira where I really want to;

I fear Jaheira too much to put her lower;

Astarion is a gay man, a little bitch, and a annoying coward. I love him, I would die and kill for him, but he's not getting near my pussy;

Withers is where he deserves to be;

Yes, that's Barcus. If you don't have good taste it isn't my fault;

Gortash stinks;

I would cut my fingers for Keene if she wanted me too;

Dame Aylin and Isobel are perfect for each other, I just want to watch;

At the same time I want to be Isobel's stepmother. I can't fix Ketheric, but I can make him feel happy;

Omeluum is husband material;

Minsc is my soulmate. He understands me in a way no one can. No, I wont fuck him. We will just be empty head together forever;

I've said what I've said. Period.

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lucidmagic · 8 months

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The Dame Aylin x Isobel fic is coming along great! And I just know it's going to be a long boi, like north of 8k (if you know me from my RE8 fic then you know my chapters are massive).

Somethings in the fic that I think some would appreciate:

It's from Isobel's POV and follows her internal struggles with her failing family.

Thisobald in the game claims Ketheric Thorm is his 'father', whether this is biological or a twisted form of creation like Frankenstein and his monster is unknown, but I'm putting him in the story as Isobel's older brother because it cements the problems with the Thorm family.

Expanding on Isobel's character (I wish Larian had gone into more depth with her character but I understand why they didn't because it's Tav's story)

Yearning, like lots of yearning, very lesbian

Making Isobel more powerful--I have a headcanon she was a high-level cleric before she died and was resurrected, like level 12 to 15, but due to her death, her power was leached away making her more on par with a level 8 cleric as seen in the game.

Aylin is a golden retriever himbo gf (I headcanon she was very inexperienced with romantic/sexual relationships before Isobel despite what others may guess)

There's nothing like relationship building like battling a dragon am I right?

Here's an excerpt:

#my fic #lucidmagic #dame aylin #isobel thorm #dame aylin x isobel thorm #aylin x isobel #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #dnd fic #larian studios #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #dame aylin x isobel #bg3 fic #fic wip #wip #lunar lesbians #dungeons and dragons #lucidmagic fic

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songofsoma · 1 month

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under the light of her moon

pairing: dame aylin x isobel thorm words: 1,243

read it on ao3

Isobel watched as the curls of steam filtered into the night air off the surface of the hot spring. She could see their reflection on the water’s surface, though obscured as Aylin’s languid movements sent ripples across it.

The night air was startlingly cold compared to the heat of the hot spring. They had discovered it on their travels to a rumored Selûnite outpost and had decided to set up camp on its banks.

It had been Aylin’s idea to undress and enjoy what nature had to offer. Judging by the way her lips curled, Isobel could sense the underlying motivation for her suggestion. It was confirmed when her eyes were alight like silver flames as she shed her robes.

When they waded into the water, Aylin curled an arm around her, pulling her in close. She led them further into the spring until it was Aylin keeping her head above water as Isobel could no longer touch the ground.

She curled her legs around Aylin’s middle and wound her arms around her neck as Aylin nuzzled her face into her hair.

“I thought you said you wanted to wash,” Isobel mused, the tips of her fingers tracing through the hair at the nape of her lover’s neck.

“I do, I want to enjoy you first,” she murmured, her nose dragging a soft line across her cheek before she kissed her temple. “Even when I have you near, I still find myself missing you terribly. It’s as if I shut my eyes and death has stolen you from me once more.”

Isobel clutched her tighter. “The one good thing my father did was bring me back to you,” she whispered, her throat tightening with the threat of emotions bubbling back to the surface. “You will never be taken from me again, Aylin.”

Her mind soured at the thoughts of what a century had done to Aylin. While she had been within the peaceful nothing of death, her beloved had been caged and murdered by Sharrans. And by her father’s doing. That was what sickened her the most.

Absent-mindedly, her hand caressed over her shoulders and down her back to feel the scars the Dark Justiciars had left behind. She pulled back in Aylin’s arms to gaze at her. The woman’s expression was soft and seemingly at peace. Isobel knew she’d never truly admit the true torment that plagued her mind. But she knew.

She knew that at night, Aylin could be restless, her head rolling from side to side as sweat glistened on her brow and she muttered broken words. Isobel would stroke her cheek or pull her into her embrace and the nightmares would ease.

Isobel would take care of her, whether Aylin asked for it or not.

“Come,” she prompted, wading Aylin toward the shallower waters. “Let me wash your hair.”

Aylin allowed herself to be guided to where the soaps had been laid out.

She began by undoing the braids Aylin had, carefully setting aside each tie so they could be collected and stored away for later. She’d made a habit of helping her style her hair when it needed to be redone. Still, she loved it when it was loose like this, framing her pale skin with silken moonlight.

Isobel smiled at her adoringly as she ran her fingers through the blonde strands, smoothing away the tangles from the road. Aylin practically melted at the touch and pressed her head into her palm.

“Turn around, beloved,” Isobel said as she picked up a soap bar. “Now wet your hair, please.”

Aylin did as instructed, sinking into the water and leaning back to submerge the back of her head. She peered up as Isobel as she did, allowing Isobel to steal a quick peck on her lips.

When she rose again, Isobel had lathered the soap on her palms and began to massage it into her hair which had been saturated into a dark blonde. Her fingers pressed against Aylin’s scalp as she washed her hair and it extracted a lovely, low groan from her.

“You are too good to me,” Aylin said, head tipping back into her ministrations.

Isobel smiled softly, continuing to work the sweet-scented soap through her hair. She had picked up the necessities from the city before they departed camp. She had splurged a few extra gold on an extra bar of soap that smelt of rosehip and bergamot. Now as the fragrance permeated the air, she was glad she did. It was calming in a way.

She prompted Aylin to let her head fall back into the water and Isobel began to rinse the soap from her hair. The water around them smelled of the fragrance as suds created a halo around Aylin’s head.

Her eyes were closed and her breathing was even. If Isobel hadn’t known better, she would assume Aylin had fallen asleep. But when they fluttered open at the feeling of her gaze, Aylin smiled, she was just at peace finally.

Eventually, she rose and caught Isobel in an embrace once more. It was hard for the woman to keep her hands to herself, not that Isobel minded.

“I could spend the rest of my days like this,” Aylin said as their foreheads pressed together.

“In a hot spring?” Isobel teased.

It drew a chuckle. “So long as if it were what my darling desired.”

She traced the lines of muscles adorning her shoulders. “She sounds very lucky, this darling.”

Aylin hummed her disagreement. “I would have to argue that I am the lucky one.” Finally, she closed the space between them and kissed her tenderly.

Isobel had never realized she could miss something in death. She didn’t remember her time not anchored to the earth, but still, her heart ached for all the years they had been apart. She missed it terribly now for the century she could not.

After they had both felt cleaner and their hands and feet began to prune, they lay on a fur hide near a fire Aylin had built. The coolness of the night air had resolved them to dress, much to Aylin’s displeasure.

Isobel ran her fingers through Aylin’s damp hair as her head lay against her breast, and both their eyes turned to the starry sky above.

“Do you think she can feel that I’m free?” Aylin asked suddenly, still gazing upward.

“Hm?”

“My mother. Do you think she knows I’m no longer her sister’s tool?”

Isobel looked down to see Aylin’s features turn fretful. “I’m sure she does. Why do you ask, my love?”

“I just thought that there might be some sign or I may even hear something from her.” She shook her head, finally turning her face away from her mother’s face in the sky. “But there’s been nothing.”

She pondered this. Even she, a cleric of Selûne, didn’t have an answer. “I’m sure she knows. I know she’s watching. She loves you, Aylin.”

Aylin nodded and turned on her side, nestling into Isobel. The woman was far larger than she was but always found a way to curl into her to be held. “I am just happy to exist beneath the light of her moon once more,” she murmured finally.

As Isobel lay next to the crackling fire with her lover tucked snuggly in her arms, she felt the truth of that statement for herself for she had risen from the dead to be loved by Aylin once more.

#everyone say thank u finn (githling) for making me finally write them #dame aylin #isobel thorm #aylin x isobel #moonangel #bg3 #dame aylin x isobel #baldur's gate #my writing #baldurs gate 3

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moontheoretist · 8 months

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Talking to Isobel when you romance Astarion is so funny.

Isobel: My father was skeptical about our love, Aylin is an immortal, after all. There is definitely imbalance between us.

PC: I understand you completely. You see, my boyfriend is also an immortal. But we will manage! No biggie!

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #astarion romance #isobel #dame aylin #dame aylin x isobel #drow x high elf vampire

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insomniakisses · 4 months

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Baldur’s Gate M.List

💖 Fluff / 🌧 Angst /🔥 Smut / 🤝 Platonic / 💞 related / 🧬 hybrid / 🐺 omegaverse / 🍆 G!p / 🧛vampire / 🐕 werewolf / ✨authors pic /

Headcannons

Reactions

Imagines

Lae’zel

Shadowheart

Astarion

Gale

Wyll

Karlach

Minthara

Halsin

Orin

Gortash

Isobel and Dame Aylin (only poly with you)

Smut asks

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starsidesky · 13 days

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Let's just say that there's a couple of Baldur's Gate 3 characters who are currently living rent-free in my head. A situation that has stirred the writer in me. So here's a little vignette (honestly, I wasn't sure what to title this) about Isobel contemplating the aftermath of Act 2. (Potential spoilers)

Dust

For the first time in a century, the sound of mirth rings through Moonrise, and Isobel stands in near disbelief. Her thoughts are still racing on battlefield adrenaline. A small sleep-deprived fear trembles in her mind: the fear that this moment might be snatched away, that she might wake inside the Last Light Inn. Scorned by the realization that all of this was naught but a cruel dream. But one look at the sky and a solid pinch are enough to put her uneasy thoughts to rest.

The Harpers are enjoying some merry-making in the wake of their victory. Their strange new-found allies have generously offered to share their food and strong drink alongside whatever is deemed safe from the tower cellars. Aylin has eagerly joined in the celebration; her laugh is as magnificent as it is unmistakable. A hearty sound that carries throughout the towers like it had never left. The cleric decides it would be a crime to pull her angel away too soon. A hundred years caged in the Shadowfell had no doubt left her deprived of the most basic humane courtesies. She definitely deserves to celebrate.

Isobel draws a cold, shallow breath and stifles a coughing fit. The ale must be affecting her poorly, as the torchlight suddenly feels harsh to her eyes. She tolerates it for a while, but the celebrations get louder as the night goes on. Despite the lifting of the curse, the air in the hall feels muggy and suffocating, and a slight headache settles upon her brow soon after. All it takes is the drunken singing of a few dozen Harpers to persuade the cleric into the calm night air.

The moon from Moonrise had always been beautiful – a century couldn't hope to change that. But the same could not be said for Reithwin itself. Beneath the moonlight, the village Isobel had known so well seemed little more than a hollow shell.

A ghost, an echo of what once was.

At the center of it all stands the statue of her father, his expression listless and placid. The same way he looked when she first awoke.

A chill snakes down her neck.

She’s running barefoot, clad in cambric burial garbs, dodging creeping vines, and thorny brambles. White dots of lantern light chase after her; her father is amongst them. A mangled root catches her foot, and she tumbles downhill into a heap of thorns. Disoriented, she crawls away, pressing her back to a scraggly tree. Her lungs burn for breath, but no matter how much she gasps, her vision swirls with sparks, and she can't risk spells now.

The rumble of a galloping horse crests the hill, pulling her back to herself. The bony, half-rotted steed brays as it winds through the foul miasma. Her father screams from its back, sobbing, begging. His dark, anguished pleas echo through the marrow of her bones as he searches in vain. The sound remains burned into her memory. Sometimes, late at night, she thinks she hears it still.

Isobel thanks Selûne that he did not find her that night.

Once more, she gazes over the ruins of Reithwin and her heart twists. She spent a century dead, while so many good people - people she knew - suffered and perished for want of one man’s grief. Yet here she stands, and they do not.

She recalls the many hideous stories the Harpers told about the source of the Shadow Curse and the monster Ketheric became. At first, she could hardly believe it. The gentle, kind man who'd raised her betrayed his own goddess, forcibly converted their people to Shar, and butchered those who would not. That wasn't even accounting for what he'd done to Aylin!

So much death and destruction, and for what?

“That man was not your father.” Aylin's armored boots settle upon the stone behind her.

Isobel turns to face her, desperately trying to hold her emotions back, but to no avail.

In one fluid motion, Aylin pulls her into her embrace and wraps her wings around her. They’re a welcome shield from everything beyond. Isobel leans into her, her head resting against her breastplate. She listens quietly to the slow rhythm of her heart, the rise and fall of her breath, as Aylin rests her jaw upon her head.

“You are not to blame for your father's mistakes.” Aylin says softly.

Isobel finds her voice soon after, “I know.”

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #dame aylin #isobel thorm #dame aylin x isobel #ketheric thorm #angst with a happy ending #hurt/comfort #titles are hard

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badasserywomen · 4 months

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