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avocado-writing · 27 days

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Hello! Might I ask for the lovely bg3 guys hearing tav say they're love them in the middle of an argument please? Take your time!

Astarion

Who knows what you're arguing about. It could be something sincere (his ascention) or something inane (he took your soap without asking, again) but it still slips out all the same:

"You're lucky I love you, or I'd be really angry."

The two of you stop and stare at each other for a moment, before you let out a strangled little sound and exit the conversation.

Astarion is baffled. He wasn't expecting that. Except, he sort of was? He's been trying to get you to fall for him after all, so why does it feel so... nice to hear you say it? And why does he feel so guilty?

The two of you move on like nothing's happened for a while, the tension bubbling between the two of you, until eventually he can't take it any more.

The two of you are on watch one night and he blurts out, "I love you too."

You stare at him for a long moment, he's never felt smaller. "Are you being serious?" "Yes. I am."

You look so relieved. He brings you into his arms and the two of you stay embraced for the rest of the night.

Gale

It's like you're arguing about the bomb inside him.

He's arguing it's the best solution to your problems, you're telling him that he needs to care about himself more. You're getting so frustrated that tears are starting to sting hot in your eyes.

"I wish you loved yourself like I love you, Gale."

Ah, you didn't mean to let that slip out. The two of you let the quiet sink in. You go to move away, his silence crushing, but he reaches out to grab you - not hard, but enough so that you stay.

"You love me?"

Tears come, inevitably.

"Of course I love you, Gale, you utter fool."

You can see he wants to argue about that but for once just takes the insult, pulling you into his arms so tightly you feel like he'll keep you there forever. Yes, he is a fool for not seeing it earlier.

"I love you too. You are the most precious thing in my life. I'm sorry for worrying you... and you're right, of course. You're always right."

You sleep in his arms that evening, and the Netherese Orb is never mentioned again.

Wyll

Oh, Wyll. Why would you be arguing with this sweet, kind man?

Maybe you're begging him to try and get out of his contract with Mizora, take back hold of his own life again. He's arguing about duty, what he owes to Baldur's Gate.

"I wish you'd think for once about what you owe to me, Wyll. To yourself! I love you!"

His mouth falls open, he's flabbergasted. When you try and escape he doesn't let you, following you into the forest where you run, calling your name.

Eventually you slow down enough for him to catch you and bring you in for a sweet kiss, then press his forehead against yours.

"I love you too. Of course I love you. I hate that I ever made you feel anything less than my absolute priority. You are always the first in my heart."

The two of you sit down and have a long, healthy conversation about talking things out as a couple. Making decisions together. At the end of if you come out stronger, united as a team.

Halsin

Halsin is probably the most laid-back on this list, it's hard to think of something you'd really argue about.

It comes down to this: you aren't taking care of yourself enough. Not eating properly, sleeping properly, sharing your burdens. You are trying to shoulder it all.

He keeps telling you that you need to be kinder to yourself - you keep snapping that he isn't in charge, he doesn't know what it's like. He tells you he cares about you too much to see you in pain.

You're angry at first - who is he to tell you what to do - and then you're just sad; burying your face in his chest.

"I love you too much to argue with you, Halsin," you whisper, and his heart melts.

"I love you too, my heart. Let me take care of you."

He cooks you dinner and makes sure you eat it all, draws you a bath and helps you wash. His fingers are magic. He lays down with you on your bedroll and lets his body warm yours, keeping you tight against him, only drifting off himself when he is sure you are sound asleep.

#gale of waterdeep x reader #Gale of waterdeep x tav #Astarion x reader #astarion x tav #halsin x reader #halsin x tav #wyll x tav #wyll x reader #wyll ravenguard x reader #my writing #Long post #bg3 imagine #gale x reader #gale x tav

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inkyquince · 8 months

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I tolerate her. I liked you.

characters. Enver Gortash. Astarion. (Baldur's Gate 3)

cw. Dark Urge reader, with a intimate history with Gortash. Astarion being bitchy. Not explicitly nsfw, just dirty talk and dirty thoughts. Clingy and Jealous Astarion. Lots of talk of blood. 3k words.

“I tolerate Orin. I liked you.”

The words hung in the air, Gortash’s smirk curling in the silence that followed. You cocked your head at him, slowly letting the statement sink in. There was something else there. His gaze was simmering, dark, as if daring you to ask what exactly he meant by that, right in front of the audience hall filled with chattering nobles, in front of your companions who had just learned that you were one of the three that had started all of this… In front of the one person who had taken your bloodied hands in their own and kissed your knuckles and washed the red from your skin.

You wondered if your Bhaalspawn kin ever tasted the fear you seemed to wallow in these days. Fear of turning, fear of dying, fear of being exposed to be the disgusting creature you thought yourself to be. As for right now? Fear that Gortash would run his tongue over his teeth again and go into detail about how much he had enjoyed your company. So, like a coward, you instead fell back on prying into his thoughts.

Carefully, with just a little Guidance, you crept into his mind, making sure not to alert the dark eyed Chosen of your actions. As per usual, the stream of consciousness came quickly, running like a stream past you, only able to catch a few strands of thought.

Orin is too uncontrollable. This one never let me down. Oh, yes, how I liked you. Liked you so. I wonder if they taste as they did before, with blood on their tongue. Nothing that a little bit of wine helps to sweeten. The first taste is always the most memorable. You didn’t have the time of day for me at first, did you? The chosen of Bhaal, his favorite spawn, but I changed that. Now, if that glaring little shit would go find a shit house to glare at, I could invite you back to those chambers we enjoyed so much, to properly celebrate my new Dukedom. Not even the Sharess' Caress’s whores were able to scratch that itch you started-

You quickly slipped back out, almost embarrassed with how the bastard saw you. Who you used to be… Maybe someone you still were.

“I’ll think about it.” You finally managed.

Gortash snide smile glinting in the bright candlelight.

“I look forward to our reacquaintance.” He murmured, voice dropping low, husky and suggestive.

Yep. No way any of your companions would ever overlook that. You didn’t even look at any of them as you turned on your heel and walked back out, as Duke Ravengard began to anoint Gortash as Duke, shame prickling the back of your neck. Though, whether it was from the dawning horror that your friends’ tadpoles were lodged in their heads because of you, or because… Someone’s darkened red eyes were trained on your skin, their footsteps following quick and close behind you.

Well, hopefully Mizora shares some truly abhorrent news downstairs to distract everyone from your own little reveal. Karlach had been beside herself when Gortash dropped the news, Wyll had been befuddled, but focused on his father, standing by with a blank look in his intelligent eyes. But Astarion? Not a word.

Silence was bad. Astarion was never quiet. Between quips and jabs, with the occasional double entendre laced compliment, your undead lover loved to hear his own voice and run his mouth. Not to say he wasn’t quiet at times. When absorbed in his books, when staring with a frown at a mirror, when quietly gazing at you across the campfire, red eyes glinting with the reflection of the flames.

However, this silence was none of those. This was the silence before he had snuck up to bite you for the first time. Before he had drawn his dagger to your throat. Before he was aiming to strike true.

“Nice to know that you always had a taste for the finer things in life.” He drawled, leaning back on his hay bale, making it look as comfy as a chaise longue. Delicately picking at his cuff, sprawled out as if he was tempting you.

“... Seems so.” You muttered, adjusting your bedroll again, to make sure none of the pieces of straw would dig into your skin.

“Seems so.” Astarion repeated after you, tongue curling as he mocked your blase statement. “Maybe we should swing by a nice furniture shop, see if you’d fuck a particularly fancy bureau next.”

“Astario-”

“No, no.” The elf gave a long suffering sigh, as if your… “Ex” appearing was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. “You have a type, darling. Dangerous. Excellently dressed. Though, I do say that I have the better hair by a mile, and that’s being polite.”

You couldn’t help but smile. When you two first met, his bitchiness made it impossible to please him, but since then it had become extremely endearing. At least now you knew you were saddled with him for life, and it was more entertaining to listen to him aggravate people.

The elf drank in your smile lazily before stretching out.

“Interesting couple of days. You nearly kill me, then you proclaim that you're Bhaal’s favorite child.” He mulled over, tapping his chin with a perfectly manicured finger. “Then worst of all, you drag me to meet your lover. I’ve had fun being a homewrecker before, but the other partner never really knew it was me who lured them out of the marriage bed and into the grave.”

“Astarion! I-”

“Now, darling.” He tutted. His smile was sharp, glinting, but there was something strangely fragile in his eyes. “You’re usually so good at letting me talk all I want.”

There was a beat of silence between you two, with him looking up at you with his charlatan’s smile and glassy eyes.

“Pretty sure your Gortash guessed I was the other man. Lovers of that sort do usually have a rather snide look when they find you out.” Astarion rolled onto his back with a languished sigh. “... Do you call him Gortash? Isn’t his first name Enver? That’s rather an ugly name to moan out.”

“I don’t.”

“Don’t what? Call him Enver? Or maybe Envie? Sounds rather like Envy, and I doubt that he’s one prone to jealousy-”

“Astarion, I don’t know him.” You finally snapped, giving up entirely on your patience for his bitchy shenanigans. “I have snippets of memories. He’s implied something was between us, but that’s between two people I hardly know anymore. Anyway, shouldn’t you be more worried about, I don’t know, everything else going on?”

“But I’m having so much fun playing the jealous lover. Don’t I get to play this out, to stamp my foot and demand you to never talk to him again? Shadow your every move and such?” He sighed through his nose, but something in his facade was slowly ebbing away. “... His offer is a good one.”

“His offer? To rejoin him in fucking up the entirety of Baldur’s Gate? C’mon.”

Astarion pondered your sentence before sitting up properly, easily slipping into a cross legged position.

“It would be easier. Wouldn’t have to fuss around with Raphael and the Gith. Get to go back to a comfy life of being the favorite child, with a Duke for a bed warmer and an Elder Brain to boss around.”

“Well, I’ve proven that I don’t like to do the easy thing.” You glanced at him, knowing how hard he had fought at first to keep you both as something casual, at most fuck buddies.

His pale lips quirked.

“Touche.”

Silence fell again, but this time you waited patiently, knowing that Astarion always needed a moment to slip into the sincerity that came when he actually wanted to talk to you about something important to him.

“I… I don’t like setting rules.” Well, that was obvious. Astarion thought that every boundary he wanted to put down would drive a wedge between you two. You barely managed to convince him you were okay with waiting to have sex, just for him to feel comfortable again. “... But….”

You waited, fingers skating over his ivory knuckles as he formed the words.

“.. Even if you start up your alliance with Gortash again, I… No starting up any dalliances you might have had. I don’t care if I have to share you, but I do get a say in who I share you with.”

Astarion’s eyes hardened, fragility dissolving into something heated and dark. You two were already seated close enough, but his lithe fingers gripped your chin and pulled you closer to him, his lips parted enough to reveal his pearly fangs in the fire light.

“And I will not share you with him. Anyone else might get the chance to think you have an equal relationship with them, like the one we have. But they’d be wrong. We belong to each other first and foremost. But he never gets to even get to hope to touch you like that again. Clear?”

You didn’t even have a moment to reply, not with his cool lips quickly pressing against yours, breathless despite not needing air. One of his teeth nicked your bottom lip as he hungrily pulled you closer, tongue dragging over the cut. If it had happened even just the day before, you’d have laughed and asked if he was already parched again, but this was different. This was not a moment that could be broken with a light hearted joke.

Astarion was making sure you understood in full, that you might have been with Gortash once upon a time, but that period was well and truly over.

… At least, it was for you and Astarion. That time in your life tied up with a box and thrown into the fire, with the two of you sharing a few more kisses before the night was over. But Gortash sat in his chambers, idly rubbing his knuckle over his stubbled chin. It had been quite a day.

Not many men got to be gifted the Dukedom of Baldur’s Gate, be threatened by an unhinged Changeling in his own room and see her long lost kin striding into his audience hall a few hours later. A smile flickered on his lips. You looked good. Even with your brain filled with holes, and unable to recall the brilliant plans you two had created, you were just as magnificent as the last time he ever saw you.

His dalliance with The Dark Urge, Bhaal’s favorite spawn, had surprised even him. He didn’t care for Orin’s messy dedication to her father, the way she was always just a word away from sinking her dagger into his chest, so why had he been so taken with her superior bloodkin? The one the cult actually adored and followed, the one who soaked the streets in blood and flayed anyone the God of Murder casted his bloodied gaze upon? Orin was beautiful… If you enjoyed the beauty of the vampiric quality. But even her looks never had him in the same breathless chokehold your eyes did.

He remembered that one look from you had his heart beating faster, with saliva pooling on his tongue. Even before the two of you were formally acquainted. The first moment he saw you, surrounded by the cultists of your father, to him you were majestic. Hells, you weren’t in any sort of garb that demanded worship, just the clothes you usually wore in the evening he later realized. But it didn't matter. The way you held yourself, with your eyes cold and collected, even when he could smell the blood on your skin. You were a master of your craft, of your art. While other Bhaal worshippers would dedicate themselves to him with fits of fury and love, smearing themselves with the hot blood of their victims, you were methodical.

You were perfect. No wonder you were his chosen. Not an amateur like Orin.

Gortash’s fingers idly skimmed over the map of the Sword Coast on his desk, swirling his goblet of wine, the red inching closer and closer to the rim with every motion. It was the same brand that you had shared with him before Orin had taken your place.

After you deigned to let him taste your body again, he had poured two chalices, hoping to dull your senses and keep you away from the ruins you lived in, under the city. You had just given a half smile at him and sipped upon the dark red liquid, your form still lovely and bare. He could still recall your last words with each other, your tongue stained red with the wine.

“It seems we’re on a precipice.” You hummed, flicking the dagger planted into the map of Elturel. “Tomorrow I journey to Thorm and then it shall all be in motion. Properly. No more waiting.”

“Have I ever complimented you on your pillow talk?” Gortash chuckled, skimming over the other bottles of wine lining his bureau, trying to find one that you’d enjoy enough to stay longer.

You didn’t say anything, just a throaty chuckle he basked in. He had come a long way for being a whipping boy for Raphael in the House of Hope. Now he was here, just a few weeks out from getting everything he could have ever wanted. Gortash remembers the nights he used to sleep with a knife under his pillow, even when Karlach had been stationed outside of his door. No longer would he feel the cold blade under the fabric by his cheek, for now he slept with the warm body of a weapon far greater next to him. If only you would stop leaving his side to be with the fanatics that swarmed you with adoration and pleas to watch you work.

“The reason you came crawling to me in the first place was for the Absolute’s Plan. Nothing gets you excited more than the prospect of your future power, does it?” The way your teeth glinted as you looked at him in the flickering candlelight had his breath stilling in his throat. Excitement pooled in his stomach and he made his way back over to you, even as you rolled your eyes and finished your wine.

“You know me so well.” He murmured, dragging his roughened palm across your stomach before pressing a kiss against your neck, inching his lips up to your jaw.

You hummed at the feeling, but unlike a few hours before, you didn’t relax into his wandering hands.

“This was a pleasant distraction. However, I must go do the rites for my Father before I leave.”

Would he have let you leave if he had known Orin would attempt to destroy all that you were? He didn’t know about that. Gortash would have to see. He was interested in learning about this new form of yours, memory riddled with holes. Were you just as ruthless as you once had been? Would you tear Orin limb from limb as you should, for even daring to try and take your place?

The side of his mouth tilted in a crooked smirk, taking a sip from his goblet, letting the flavor soak into his tongue before he swallowed.

Gortash saw a chance for something new, now that you were finally back in Baldur’s Gate. You weren’t one of the Chosen, not anymore. You would have to reclaim your power… And he was more than happy to offer himself up for your bloodied hands, to… Help you get your life back.

Be a crutch that you would stumble without. You’d never be as you once were, at least in the upcoming execution of the plan, unable to earn back the position of an untouchable. But he could bring you back up, as his very own weapon this time.

The Dark Urge that infested your being, Bhaal’s very own Chosen child, he’d have it. He’d have you. The blade he kept close to his body, with the blade that kissed his skin and threatened to split it open, but it never did.

Gortash hummed at the thought, before wetting his thumb and forefinger with his tongue, reaching out to extinguish the candle by his bedside and returned to the bed, one of the pillow’s still faintly smelling like you.

Down by the Elfsong Tavern, in the rented rooms Astarion was once so pleased about, the vampire spawn lay awake, feeling your breath against his collarbones from where you lay sleeping next to him. Once, it would be the norm that he was awake at night, only to doze during the day, but that hadn’t been the case for weeks now, not since he had the tadpole squirm in between his eyeball and the lid.

But it wasn’t his urge to go hunt the streets of Baldur’s Gate once more, to reacquaint himself with the habitat of his prey, that kept him up. It was his own thoughts.

Soon enough, he’d have to return to Cazador, who thought he could use him as a weapon for his own ascension. Astarion knew it wouldn’t happen. But now, his thoughts would stray from his own master, to the one that proclaimed himself as yours.

Yours. Your… Master? Your past lover? Your conspirator in arms?

In Moonrise, after Raphael’s deal, he had been full of swagger and confidence to return to his home, to face Cazador, with you by his side. Even the night where you shook him awake and told him the Urge was about to hurt him, forcing him to tie you down and sit with you till morning…. Even that night hadn’t shaken his confidence.

So why did meeting Gortash erase it?

Astarion sighed through his nose, rolling his eyes at his own string of pesky thoughts. He was being foolish. Weak. You wouldn’t abandon him for some freshly anointed Duke with hair riddled with split ends and hungry eyes.

He’d make sure of it.

#enver gortash #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #nsft #quincewrites #this is so self indulgent because gortash said that fucking line and thats it all my thoughts were gone

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chronic-escapee · 7 months

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Vlaakith when I catch you Mystra when I catch you Shar when I catch you Cazador when I catch you Zariel when I catch you Mizora when I catch you Gortash when I catch you Orin when i catch you Rafael when I catch you Lorroakan when I catch you EMPEROR WHEN I CATCH YOU YOU PIECE OF SHIT

#bg3 spoilers #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate #astarion #wyll ravengard #bg3 astarion #bg3 tav #bg3 karlach #karlach #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #bg3 lae'zel #lae'zel #i am going to go on a murder spree and I'm not even Durge #this game has consumed my soul #I found your broken people and fixed them #they're mine now

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meanbossart · 3 months

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DU drow asks time

Lore questions/sweet messages/stuff that made me laugh that's about DU drow specifically that I decided to compile in a single post!

First of all, "outraged to be used as a medium for old man gay divorce" is a hysterical sentence LOL

As for his thoughts on the Ansur debacle? Negative ones. He hates the emperor, he doesn't care about his third-time-twist real identity, he doesn't particularly care about Wyll either (well - he kind of finds him entertaining, he's kind of really frustrated by him, it's complicated) but he saved his dad on a whim to spite Mizora anyway. BUT HEY, all that trouble would have been worthwhile if he's about to get an ancient dragon fighting alongside him - this old duke sounds a little too confident in this fairy tale, but stranger things have happened, right?

Then the situation unfolds as it does, and if he wasn't eager enough to use that orphic hammer before, he certainly is now. There is very little that the Emperor does past Act 3 that DU drow doesn't find a way to twist into something that confirms his resolve against him. If he could have taken Ansur's side in that fight, he would have - not that he shed any tears over killing him either.

Sick sword though, that helped soothe his nerves a bit and I'm sure spared everyone a little bit of a tantrum at camp later.

HAHAHAHA I can't confirm nor deny because I see so few large body-type elves as it is (which is fair, elves aren't usually... That massive). I did set age to 50% because it does look a little weird when it's all smooth. Maybe that's the trick?

Though I guess if you find it unsettling, then... No wonder it suits him! however this just looks like an impressively handsome fella to me, to be honest. I insist on fucking him up further whenever I draw him for that reason.

Thank you so much for following along and for giving the fic a try!!! And no worries, english isn't my native tongue either so I've been there 😎👍

I do actually have a couple of very short comics planned that take place pre-tadpole, but my backlog of WIPs is... Massive. Not to mention the commission work I do (currently not taking any more). I have one that's about his first interaction with Orin and another about a business dinner with Gortash gone-wrong, but I have no clue when I'll be able to work on them. Hopefully soon though!

You know, I've always hoped that after I died I'd be remembered as the guy who inspired others to make their nipples card-swipe-able.

Joke's aside, thank you LOL I love that my guys' nips have taken up non-insignificant room in your mind, it's always comforting to know that you aren't the only one.

Piercings and the such aren't really his style though. While he finds his scar-work weirdly comforting, he isn't so interested in aesthetic results as much as he just enjoys having pain inflicted upon him in a controlled environment, by people that he loves - He doesn't recall this post-tadpole, but the scars were a result of a kind of... Recurring ritual between himself and Orin that served to replace normal intimacy, pretty much.

Since you touched on it though, I do like to believe that Astarion finds his cut-up body fun, both on the eyes and on the hands LOL.

I'm starting to think you guys are all in on this. It's like the fifth time someone catches me in the act - god damn it, is it that obvious that I wanna slide down Peter Steele's cold corpse like he's a a ride at the Magical Ice kingdom... Which is to say, yes, both the guy and his music are not-so-lowkey a big inspiration behind a lot of DU drow's characterization!

That's all for now folks, thank you so much for the asks!!! This isn't all of them but I try not to spam people's feeds when I can help it/space them out. I see all of your messages and I guarantee you that if I have an interesting answer for them, you will see a reply eventually!

#ps: i only made that peter steele joke because i know he would be ok with it LOL #ask #DU drow #bg3 spoilers

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shoddynomenclature · 5 months

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Vampire!Minthara x GN!Reader

18+. Though not explicitly sexual is a bit steamier than Karlach’s. Once again all credit/responsibility goes to this post by sorcerous-caress.

I promise this will be the last one of these unless anyone at all wants me to do one for Mizora. Pls ask me to do one for Mizora.

Minthara comes in the middle of the night. She didn’t tell you she was coming tonight, but, then again, she never does. You’re awake, which isn’t unusual. Still, the unexpected entrance jolts you upright.

She smirks at you knowingly, making your heart pound in anticipation. Before she says a word, you assume the position she’s taught you. Sitting on the bed on your knees, head and back against the wall.

She approaches you, smiling at your preemptive compliance. “You learn quickly. Good.” She reaches to caress your thigh. “Very very good.”

She climbs on top of you, straddling your legs with her own. She holds your face with one hand, leaning your head to the side so your neck is exposed. “Beautiful.” She strokes her knuckle briefly along the exposed skin before aligning her mouth to your vein.

“You’re mine.” She says, firstly kissing the area softly. You simply nod in response. “No. I want to hear you say it.” She corrects before swiftly biting into your flesh.

The pain elicits a whimper from you, a noise you’d be remiss to let anyone but her hear. “I’m yours, Minthara. I’m wholly and completely yours.” Her name comes out like a desperate prayer as you feel the coolness of blood loss spread across your body. You feel yourself grow weak as she drinks, it’s getting hard for you to stay upright. But you trust her. You will fall, and she will catch you. You calm and allow yourself to slip into the feeling. Submission. You are hers, at her mercy.

Your body goes limp, but her strong arms hold you up against the wall. When she’s done she gently guides to you to your mattress. A stream of blood leaves the holes on your neck. She licks trail, not wasting a drop of what’s hers.

You feel lightheaded. Your body is pale and weak against the mattress. She loves to see you like this, knowing that you’ve given yourself over to her so completely. She acknowledges your gift as so much more than the blood. It’s you. It’s your life. And it’s given to her freely.

She will spend the rest of the night reminding you of why you entrusted her with such vulnerability. When you are cold you will have blankets. When you are hungry and thirsty you will have food and water. Your room will be tidied, your hair will be brushed, and you will sleep more peacefully than ever before.

#bg3 tav #bg3 #bg3 minthara #18+#minthara #minthara x tav #tav x minthara #minthara x reader #Minthara stans I will feed you #give me one more week to finish my finals

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bannedfromtheaters · 9 months

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Spoilers for Act III of Baldur's Gate, but my Tav basically got fucked 5 times in 3 days and it was so wild and I needed to share it. (AKA: Mizora can't catch a fucking break).

So I locked myself early into a Shadowheart romance and decided to stick with it (Karlach, my beloved, you'll be my one and only next playthrough). Wyll's patron Mizora was at my camp and the trigger for her one-night fling popped up.

I saved just in case and decided to go for it. But when I went to bed, I got jumpscared by a scene with the Emperor, whose lair I visited that day.

Little did I know that was the cutscene where you can fuck the Emperor and boy do I like a Steam achievement so I went for it. I did decide to save scum it and reject him in my actual playthrough but that's by the by. Number 1 in the multiverse, I guess.

I went to bed again, expecting the Mizora scene to trigger this time, but I got a pop up that someone at my camp wanted to talk to me. It was Halsin, and yeah, you guessed it, he wanted to fuck my Tav too.

One consent from my darling Shadowheart later (bc Halsin is a Good Man) and I get the famous bear scene.

At this point it's good to mention my Tav still hadn't bedded Shadowheart, even though I beelined her entire arc and we've been together since I saved the Grove, but sure. Let Tav fuck two other characters first. Game logic.

Was night three when Mizora finally got her lustful taste?

Nope.

Apparently Shadowheart was done waiting and wanted to get in on the fun. One lovely night on the beach spend together and I bring her to the Sharess' Caress brothel the next day, where the drow siblings are still waiting for us.

We got offered a three/foursome before, and Shadowheart was all game only after she had my Tav all to herself first. Fair enough. We followed the drows back to their room, worshipped Shadowheart as a goddess and she said she has dreamed about this.

(Wonderful side note: I had Halsin and Shadowheart together in my party and while walking through the streets of Baldur's Gate he went: 'Oh I heard from your love that you went swimming the other day' and if she was opposed to him joining next time. It was like 3 lines but it was adorable banter between the two. my god this game!)

And poor Mizora. Who had said to Tav to wait for her that night, got send to the back of the line three days in a row.

You want to fuck my Tav? You want to give them pleasures beyond this realm?

Yeah? Well, so do all my other companions. Wait in fucking line.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #halsin #shadowheart #mizora bg3

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madwomansapologist · 3 months

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i love everybody because i love you

Meet Kind!Druid!Tav | More Weirdos | AO3

synopsis: It doesn't matter what their first impressions of you were, they certainly did not expect you to be so important in their lifes. And as the days passes, each one of your companions need to understand a simple fact: they love you. They all love you.

warnings: a sequel to that (you don't need to read if you don't want to). song "strawberry blond". companions (lae'zel, halsin) x druid!tav. background cast (alfira, mirkon, scratch, owlbear, shadowheart, astarion, wyll, mizora, karlach, minthara). lae'zel love language is pressing a dagger against your throat. i accidentaly made her somewhat a stalker?? there is a high chance minthara doesn't sound like her because i killed her like two onversations in. if you discover which animated character is my biggest inspiration for this tav i will give you a reward.

In a harsh world, people are supossed to shield themselfs from even the possibility of danger. Is the only rational response to the ambiguity of chaos. What those who crave to survive must learn, what those who deserve to survive must do.

You get stronger, so you won't feel pain. Because to feel pain is to remind your soul that one day your body will perish. To get stronger is to forget about the eventual end. Is to get protected from death itself, even if as just a concept.

When not even death can catch you, you're free. When you have nothing to love, nothing to care about, you are free. That's real strength. To be invulnerable. To have nothing to lose, no one close enough to ever hurt you.

Lae'zel lost the count on how many times you bleed. How many times you fell. Burned, drowned, exhausted in pain. Arrows crossed your chest, swords cut your legs, calloused hands stopped you from breathing.

You're somewhat good at hiding it. How much things can hurt you. When someone disrespect one of your companions, when people blame you for their fates, when you did everything you could and it wasn't enough. It hurts you in a different, worst way. She can see it on your face.

Maybe you could've earned a good end, if the world worked in a different way. A peaceful life, one fit for those who don't aspire greatness. But Lae'zel knew it was only a matter of time until the tadpole took control. She felt it on herself. Saw it on you.

No one would save her, no one would save any of you, but perhaps Lae'zel could. It was an merciful act. To end you first. You failed as a leader, but you tried. Then she'll go to the others, knowing she's brave enough to kill herself after.

She thought you had surrendered yourself to her. That you had come to the same conclusion. A wise druid, after all. Then Lae'zel felt. The cold thread against the base of her neck. A dagger she didn't saw coming.

"Step back," you ordered, voice unaffected. Lae'zel never heard you like that before. She had a dagger against your throat, but you spoke as if you rule the entire world.

"Chk, you think that tiny blade of yours will stop me from free..."

"What I think doesn't matter, but what I know does." Your eyes burned her skin. "You're stronger, I'm faster. I propose you a bet. If you kill me, go on with your plan. If I kill you, that's it. I won't kill them. I won't kill myself. Even if I can, even if I must. You would've died for nothing, forever ignorant if it was the right thing to do."

Lae'zel saw you barefoot at the Emerald Grove, applauding Alfira as she sang. Crossing the river by jumping from stone to stone, talking to Mirkon as if he wasn't a kid but a dear friend. How many times did Lae'zel found a bed shaped of you on the grass right next to where Scratch and Owlbear slept?

A sacreed deer, whose even blood is ever so sweet, howled like an wolf.

Would you turn into a mindflayer out of... stubbornness? Would you let the rest of your beloved party turn into something utterly disgusting, putting in danger all those people you swore to protect, just to prove a point?

Maybe you would. Maybe you wouldn't.

No one died that night.

You intrigued Lae'zel. Before you were her supposedly defenseless prey, and now you are the object of her curiosity. Lae'zel didn't understand you. And she craved to.

So she kept a close eye on you.

You bleed. All the fucking time. You bleed, and you wept. But everytime someone crushed you down, you rose up. For every tear that fall from your eyes, you made sure to smile. You survive, and you keep on doing it.

Strength and weakness merged in the warrior's mind. She knew what strength is, she can smell weakness from afar. Lae'zel was taught everything she was supossed to know.

But you were never the one to fit in old impervious notions.

Lae'zel saw you end a hyena's suffering without flinching, and you trying to hold on the wind when you were about to fall. She heard you helping a bird decorate its nest, and the breaking of a skull of someone brave enough to maim Shadowheart when she was near you.

You yelled at Astarion as he tried to stop you from helping gnomes. Helped Wyll with herbs for his pain after Mizora's trick. Helped Gale with dinner, putting a smile to the usually frowed wizard's face. Gave Karlach her first hug in years.

She saw your every movement. Lae'zel heard you laughing, saw you dancing, watched as you helped your new friends. Sometimes it felt as if you made white lines so she could follow you. So Lae'zel could see you being good, nice, decent. Being you in a way that showed her that no, you would've never let your companions turn into mindflayers. You were bluffing, and she fell for it.

At some point, it started to ache. Anytime you laugh at some tiefling's story, something inside Lae'zel burned. At night, she could picture your smile on her eyelids. When you call her name during battle, yelling instructions that somewhat always end in victory. When you look at her.

She can still see that fire. That same flame that stopped her from killing you right then and there. But diluted, controlled. And still, just as able of burning her entire soul. You have a fire contained within your gaze, and Lae'zel doesn't mind getting burned.

Maybe you're not that weak. And maybe she's not that strong.

She's not watching you anymore. Observing your every move so she can understand your mind. Not a prey, not a walking question mark. Lae'zel is purelly admiring.

For some, you came as a tempest. Slowly, without announce your intentions, your way of being embraced them.

A few flinched, scared of what that meant about them. That by admitting you're good despite it all means they could be good too. Some welcomed it, scared of what that meant about the world. If you're good despite everything that happened, then others could be too. Others chose not to.

But you stroke Halsin as a thunderstorm, just as quickly and fiercly. In such a dark time, you were a lighthouse. A shining light that blind at first, but embraces and comforts.

The grove was in danger, his life could end at any given moment, a goblin camp separated him from the world he worked so hard to protect. But your party helped him, and it gave Halsin the right amount of hope.

You asked him to stay behind, and he did so. Halsin wouldn't be able to control himself, and you didn't need all that attention. He was hopeful, not an idiot. But when Halsin heard screams from the room beside... Knowing that Minthara was there, Halsin couldn't help himself.

A wizard focused on the goblins. As he held them in place, a cleric made sure to end them. But at the other side of the room, the only other druid he saw in weeks had a dagger deep on her chest.

Minthara had you on your knees, her nails digging on the skin of your chin. A burning tiefling didn't knew a way to react that wouldn't end within that same blade slicing your throat. She waited for an order, an instruction of any kind, and Minthara realized that you were leading the rebels.

"Is that your leader?" Minthara looked at the tiefling. Her eyes were numb, bored even, but her grin was sharp. She forced to blade deeper. "A weak druid, barely able of helding a sword? Are you that desperate?"

You should've cried. You should've beg for mercy. You should've do anything, instead of laughing. Minthara glared at you, sure that you were reduced to a crazy, desperate animal. But when you bit her hand, blood staining your chin, you were more of a beast.

Minthara stumbled, and you pulled the blade she left on your shoulder. Blood ran down your side, but that didn't stopped you from rising up. Halsin don't think anything would've.

"Maybe you're right," you hissed. With her dagger on your left hand, you took your sword from the ground. "I'm not a fighter. I wasn't educate to control the Weave. I can't heal a thing. When I can't do something, I find someone that can. Without their help, I would be dead by now."

Halsin came here to act. To help, protect, kill. But all he could do, just like everyone else in that room, was to watch you. To look at your beaming smile, to see the blood on your teath, not even trying not to get blind by it.

"Why would anyone follow someone that professes to be so weak?" She looked at the wizard, a dead goblin at his feet, her brain thinking of all the ways she could defeat your party. "What can you do that give you the right to rule them?"

Your smile seemed to grow wider. "I can beat the shit out of you."

And beat the shit out of Minthara you did.

With a first impression like that, ain't no mistery why Halsin couldn't do anything but to stay with your party. But to go on with you, deafeting the Shadowcurse and exploring Baldur's Gate. But to see you shine, feel your warmth, and let it pull a string on his heart.

At the end, it didn't matter how it started. It didn't matter how much they fought the thought back. If they lied to themselfs, made you a villain on their minds, welcomed you with open arms.

You have their hearts. Simply as it can be. You have their hearts.

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

BALDUR'S GATE 3 TAGLIST: @citrusbunnies

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

#madwomansapologist #lae'zel #lae'zel bg3 #lae'zel x tav #lae'zel x reader #lae'zel of k'liir #halsin #halsin x reader #halsin bg3 #halsin x tav #halsin baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 tav #bg3 x reader #bg3 x tav #bg3 x you #kind!druid!tav #oc: liliana wilde #tavrem

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bhaalble · 6 months

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Sorry I keep posting about this but I really can't get over how there was a missed opportunity in not giving Gortash and Wyll more of an interpersonal relationship. We know Ulder didn't have a very high opinion of him but I do think depending on how Gortash was playing his cards his ideas might've held some initial intrigue for a younger version of Wyll Ravengard. Gortash has a tendency to position himself as a man of the people, reinvested in the safety of every day Baldurians. There's a way where he could even posture himself as an alternative to the Flaming Fist and their (mostly deserved) reputation for only protecting the patriars. I think at a glance that idea would catch Wyll's interest, considering his start as the Blade of Frontiers was largely about protecting those who no one else bothered to protect.

There's also Gortash's status as an outsider, something that I think would directly connect him to Ulder in Wyll's mind. Two men born outside the nobility, who unlike most of the politicians they work alongside had to work for every drop of status they got. Wyll left Baldur's Gate before Gortash's political career took off properly and he was allowed to be a little more open about his explicitly fascist politics. I think giving him some lingering fondness/reflexive defensiveness of Gortash could've made for some extremely interesting Act 2 and 3 conflict with him and Karlach. I don't think he'd be extremely defensive about it to her face, he'd be of course horrified what was done to her. But imagine him privately confiding in the player that he knows how easy it is to get in over one's head with devils. Is it not just as possible that he made a deal, like Wyll, with the best of intentions and, like Wyll, that deal had devastating consequences? It may be too early yet to cast judgement when he's not around to defend himself.

And then. You know. You find his dad under Moonrise and it becomes pretty clear.

I think it could really be another avenue through which to examine Wyll's personal connection to the city, especially the city's nobility. By Act 3 he is of course fully with Karlach on the stomp this fucker train. But there's a new weight now to the interactions with Gortash where he's present. Gortash is at first full politician trying to win him over. Wyll, you know how difficult your father can be, I don't WANT to tadpole him but you've seen for yourself how easily he can tunnel vision on his views of right and wrong. Baldur's Gate faces unprecedented problems, is it so unlikely that we need unprecedented solutions? Depending on player choices I can even see him leveraging his history with devils (and escaping them) to offer Wyll some alternative means to get out of his contract. Perhaps even reverse or cover up what Mizora's done to him appearance wise. The chance to be welcomed back into Baldur's Gate as its pride and joy, fully human, with a father finally happy to embrace you and a city in desperate need of heroes. All you have to do is swallow down the fact that it'll be premised on a lie.

I think it'd be a good way to bring forward the conflict of Wyll's act one personal quest, both by reiterating the conflict between Wyll and Karlach. And also by doubling down on the question that quests introduce. What will win out: your fear of the devil and your desire to buy into your own image as slayer of dragons killer of demons (and the heartless)? Or your own innate goodness and desire to do the right thing, even at extremely high costs?

#i always feel weird trying to write wyll as corruptible #understand the most corruptible thing about wyll is he genuinely wants to trust other people #even people who dont deserve that trust #anyways in my dream where you give wyll the chance to decide for himself #he does just deck gortash #wyll ravengard #enver gortash #bg3 #baldurs gate 3

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jamesdeniscouldnever · 8 months

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Wyll x injured!Tav headcanons because I'm weak for mister doomed by the narrative. Also because while I LOVE all our problematic babes, Wyll is the closest to what I would want in a real relationship.

⚔️Wyll⚔️ x Injured! Tav

So you know how Wyll admits he literally wants a love like in bard songs and love stories?

Expect him to have the same kind of reaction to injuries that people in such would have.

So, of course, the moment he sees the blade of an enemy pierce what he believes is Tav's chest, he lets out the most pained, strangled cry.

If there are any remaining enemies, he'll drop them within seconds or straight up leave the others in the group to deal with them before making a mad dash for Tav.

Trembling hands. whispers of sorrow, self-blaming, and curses pass through his lips like a cursed prayer to Mizora herself.

When he sees all the blood he does his best to stay calm and whisper reassurances to Tav

"I've got you, my love. It's alright, it's gonna be alright. We'll get you fixed up. I'm so sorry but I'm here now."

Tears but no sobs. He has to keep calm for them.

When Tav starts struggling to get up from his hold, he's horrified. Had that blade carried a curse of madness?

He begins to beg them to lay back, that they need to save their strength, they're delirious

Honestly feels like he's going to throw up

Tav's hand gently caressing his cheek is what catches him off guard.

They're smiling at him. Bloody fucking blade through their chest and he's smiling.

Except there isn't a blade through their chest. There's a deep wound on the inner part of Tav's upper arm - where the blade had pierced when it fell between their arm and chest.

Relieved sobby laughs.

Thanks gods he no longer trusts for their safety.

Kisses of relief peppered all across Tav's face

Followed by stern attention to the wound and him gently and carefully bandaging the wound, giving the task as much focus as disarming a trap may take.

Slightly clingy for some time after. Not suffocatingly so, but enough for it to be notable.

Kissed the bandaged wound every night before bed until its healed and then kisses the scar it leaves at every opportunity afterward.

Just a dopey, deeply in love, prince of a man who desperately loves his Tav and would be a wreck if he ever saw them so much as wince.

#wyll #bg3 #baulders gate 3 #bg3 tav #bg3 wyll #wyll ravengard #wyll x tav #wyll/tav #wyll headcanons

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halsins-herbal-underpants · 2 months

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Red - Wyll/Astarion prompt piece (sfw)

This is for @cozykomala who sent me my first prompt ever! After a fight, person A is covered in blood. Person B freaks out "omg are you ok!?" Person A is like "it's not my blood, but it's nice to know you care so much." Person B now has feelings they need to deal with.

AO3 Link

Wyll is used to seeing red. He saw it in the hellish flames of the demons he fought and killed for Mizora. He sees it when he gathers the courage to look in the mirror and his Hells-touched eye stares back. And he sees it with his companions, as they fight their way through goblins and gnolls and githyenki creches into lands touched by shadow.

Red on their enemies, red on his friends, red in his eyes, sometimes. But Wyll can't recall ever seeing this much red on any of them before.

"Astarion!? By the gods, are you all right?"

Wyll runs up the steps of the huge surgical theater towards the vampire, sliding his rapier back into its scabbard. They'd been fighting a mad shadow-claimed doctor and his whispering nurses, Wyll's attempt at parlay failing to convince the dead women to turn on their teacher. It was a tough battle, Gale and Shadowheart both nearly out of spells, but Wyll had lost track of Astarion; the last sight of him he'd caught was the spawn disappearing behind three screeching ghostly figures slashing their rusty surgical tools wildly at his face.

Now he was hobbling out of the shadows almost completely drenched in blood; it covered the leather bands of his drow-styled armor and sank into the crevices. It splashed over his face, his ears, and turned his moon-silver hair to crimson. He was even leaving bloody footprints behind in his wake as he stumbled forward. Wyll felt his heart leap into his throat, nearly choking him as he ran towards the rogue, catching Astarion by the elbow in case he was about to crumple to the ground.

The vampire blinked at him a moment with eyes that matched his bloody visage and then slowly cracked a smile. "Wyll," he said calmly in greeting, as if he didn't look like a slaughterhouse floor.

"Gods man, are you hurt? Where? Shadowheart, I don't think she -- s-she said she was out of--" Wyll's voice cracked and he grabbed at his pack. "I have a superior potion! We can at least stabilize you until we--by Helm's grace, Astarion I had no idea, I'm so sorry, I should have helped!"

"Wyll--" Astarion started, but was interrupted by the Blade shoving a potion at him, his voice laced with acute concern.

"Drink this, please. We have to tend to your wounds...where does it hurt the most? I have to say, with that much blood loss I have no idea how you're standing, it's been so long since you fed."

"Wyll!" Astarion tried to interrupt, his brows raising. The Blade turned, hand up to his mouth as he shouted at the other two while they picked through the dead for loot.

"SHADOWHEART, WE NEED--" Suddenly Astarion's hand was on Wyll's mouth, muffling whatever else he was about to demand. Shadowheart glanced up for a second, but then shrugged and went back to the bodies. Wyll's eyes widened and flicked to Astarion, who had the strangest smile on his face.

"Wyll. I'm fine." His smile widened, showing fangs. "It's not my blood."

Wyll blinked, brows furrowing. Astarion nodded his head towards the balcony, where three bodies were just visible beyond the railing, lying still.

"Mmhph!"

Astarion removed his hand with a soft chuckle. "Mmh, sorry. But yes, darling, I am perfectly all right. Not a scratch on me." He patted himself to prove it and Wyll visibly relaxed.

"Oh. I...I may have been hasty," the warlock admitted, clearing his throat and rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. He paused and then mumbled, embarrassed. "...May I have my potion back, please?"

"Certainly." Astarion handed it back, a wide smirk on his lips that made Wyll's face feel hot. "Save it for the next time you fear for my unlife." He snickered and Wyll had to turn his head, something far too perceptive in that shimmering ruby gaze. Too dangerous to meet with his own.

"But thank you for your concern, sweet Blade," Astarion murred, stepping past him -- but then paused to half-turn back. A hand lifted to lightly grace Wyll's jaw, thumb sliding over his ridged cheek briefly. "I didn't know you cared so much."

He stepped away with a flourish as Wyll's cheeks burned and started walking back to the theater floor. "By the by," he called back airily over his shoulder. "I always love you in red." He gestured at his face and laughed, before turning to head down the stairs, loudly demanding the others had better not take everything for themselves.

Wyll flushed even darker, touching hands to his heated face and felt his heart still beating quickly in his chest. His fingers traced the ridge of his cheek, following the line Astarion's thumb made. His stomach felt fluttery as his mind's eye conjured the image again, over and over. As if wanting to burn it into his memory.

He swallowed hard and looked down at the far pale figure as it argued with their companions, his chest warming almost as much as his face. Those eyes, looking at him so knowingly, flashed in his mind. Red, warm...and waiting.

Shit.

#bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic #bloodpact #wyllstarion #wyll ravengard #astarion #bg3 astarion #bg3 wyll

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makimahinalno · 6 months

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Tfw when Gortash and Raphael are one of your favourite characters and you desperately want to ally with them once to try it, but their fights are one of the best parts of the game and you can't miss it?

Iron Throne, when Gortash's hologram pops up and tells you to turn away or you will condemn all those souls inside to a certain death. But even if you listen to him, you know those people will die anyway at some point when Enver decides he no longer can use them for his political advancement? The adrenaline going crazy when Mizora appears cause she wants Ravengard to die just to see Wyll suffer? You also need Ulder to give you the quest for Ansur and Balduran, cause it's important for Emperor's storyline? The Steel Watch is also unique, trying to save those poor Gondians from slavery.

And House of Hope! It was my favourite part of the game. The anxiety as you try to steal the hammer and save Hope, but everyone around you is telling you how pissed Raphael is gonna be when he catches you. Then you really shit your pants when the portal to Baldur's Gate closes and he comes out with Korilla and Yurgir? His fight is the BEST fight ever, the music? 11/10 I can listen to it on repeat for hours.

Like the game feels incomplete if you don't do these quests, even when I try to play evil... the only thing I wish was to see Raphael and Gortash acknowledge each other since they both kinda both work with you.

#im trying to do an evil run but im going crazy cause i want to ally with them but these quests hrnnnnnnn...#raphael bg3 #enver gortash #mizora #ulder ravengard #wyll ravengard #balduran #emperor #ansur #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

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avocado-writing · 1 month

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I loved your Pregnancy headcannons for the bg3 boys. I was wondering if you could maybe do more and possibly about weird Pregnancy Cravings. I'd think it be funny to have Tav (durge/vampire/or not) just suddenly have this strong craving to drink blood. Or maybe they came across something during their adventures that was just weird and now Tav craves that exact thing.

this made me think about weird pregnancy cravings for each of the bg3 men and how they’d react to you, so here we go. rated M. original

Wyll

You have normal cravings, thank the gods. Well, as “normal” as they can get.

Rich and bizarre foods. Filet mignon and sorbet, that sort of thing.

Maybe something a bit spicier if he’s been turned devilish by Mizora, but honestly nothing that counts as strange.

Wyll is a godsend. If you ever mention you have a craving then he goes and gets it for you, even if it’s late at night and you’re both tucked up in bed.

He watches you eat and gets you to give him a little food review! He listens and nods along; it’s playful and sweet.

Constantly whispering to your belly, “you have very odd taste little one… I hope you take more after me and have a normal palate…”

You laugh and shove him playfully, he is enamoured.

Astarion

It’s not exactly blood that you crave… but a raw steak looks super good right now.

He watches you eat rarer and rarer meat until it’s practically bloody off the bone. Pursed lips, looking at you from over the rim of his wineglass.

“Darling; are you sure that’s… normal?”

You gesture to him wildly with a fork. His eyes go wide, you don’t stop eating.

“You’re the one who fucked a dhampling into me, Astarion! I don’t know what’s normal! This is entirely new territory!”

He apologises and keeps the raw meat coming, taking very good care of you indeed. Even after you give birth, you never go back to anything above medium-rare.

Gale

When you’re pregnant with Gale’s baby, he comes home to find you with necklaces in your mouth. Magic ones.

At first it’s just the original talisman that you wore about your neck anyway, something with a charge of Cure Wounds in it, and you’d just end up with it on your tongue without thinking.

Soon it gets too much. You look at someone’s Boots of Brilliance and start salivating.

“This is your fault, Dekarios…” you mutter after he gently pulls a magic glove from your mouth like you’re a cat caught eating something it shouldn’t.

He apologises because, yes, clearly the netherese orb continues to have an effect.

Starts cooking for you more and channels the weave into the food he makes for you, so that you can satisfy your cravings without risking accidentally choking on clothing.

Mostly works… but still sees you eyeing his robes hungrily sometimes. Though actually you may just be checking out his arse.

Halsin

The need for honey has never been more compelling.

Oh, how you long for it. Directly from the source, thick comb to dance across your lips.

Halsin finds you with your hand in a beehive one day, a ward around yourself to stop any stings. He realises ah, he may have had more to do with your current state than just the act of conception…

Does his best to source you as much honey as he can and as safely as possible. You pour it onto him at night and lick it off, revelling in the taste of it just as much as the taste of him.

You long for salmon, too, if you can. He finds you trying to catch them in the river with your bare hands. It’s so sweet he can only stop and watch for a while before you roar - literally roar - for him to come and help you.

When the baby is born with little furry bear ears and a tail, the two of you think about that… wildshape night.

#Astarion x reader #astarion x tav #dadstarion #wyll x reader #Wyll x tav #Wyll ravengard x reader #wyll ravengard x tav #gale x tav #gale x reader #gale of waterdeep x tav #gale of waterdeep x reader #gale dekarios x reader #gale dekarios x tav #Halsin x reader #halsin x tav #my writing

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