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spacebarbarianweird · 3 months

Text

Baby Fangs

Synopsis: Baby Alethaine is severely sick, and Astarion is afraid his daughter is going to die.

Tags: hurt/comfort, dadstarion, dhampirs

Alethaine's age: 5 month

Thanks @queenofthespacesquids for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion has never been so afraid in his life.

Not when he was dying in the streets of Baldur’s Gate. Not when he thought Tiriel had gone. Not when Cazador had inflicted tortures on him.

It just can’t compare to the fear of losing a child.

“She needs to make it till morning,” the healer says. “If she is alive by sunrise, she will get better.”

“But can we do anything?” Tiriel looks as if she is going to fight. “There are healing spells, potions, anything!”

“And most of them aren’t fit for a five month old child. Astarion, Tiriel, I give you my word. I’ve done everything I can. There are probably some clerics and wizards who can heal your child immediately but none of them live in Daggerlake. I am sorry.”

The healer walks away, leaving a dreadful silence in the house.

Astarion sits on the bed, clasping his hands together. Of course, things couldn't be this good. Of course something had to go wrong! How could he have been foolish enough to believe that things could be good for him?

His little daughter, Alethaine, is such a miracle, such a gift. When he first held her in his arms, he dared to hope that everything would be all right from then on. And now they tell him she's dying? That she would be dead by morning?

Alethaine whimpers weakly. She is already too tired to cry.

Tiriel looks terrible. She is a warrior, a fighter, but for the first time in her life, she has no enemy to kill. The enemy is her daughter's fever, and she can't beat it the way she beats monsters.

The baby starts coughing.

Astarion doesn't need to be a vampire to feel his daughter's pain. Her muscles are too tense. Her breathing is ragged and her heartbeat is too weak. Alethaine is suffering at this very moment, and there is nothing her parents can do about it.

Can’t give her medicine. Can’t soothe her pain.

There is a grip of death around her tiny heart and neither Tiriel nor Astarion can unclench it.

Tiriel sits on the bed, cradling Alethaine in her arms. Astarion wraps his hands around them.

“So what do we do?” he asks.

“We wait,” she answers. Her voice sounds exhausted.

He nods.

Yesterday, Alethaine was perfectly healthy. She tried to sit up, but each time her head proved too heavy and she fell on her back. Then her black eyes clouded over and a fever rose. She refused to eat and only cried like a wounded animal.

“What if she doesn’t make it?” Astarion asks.

Tiriel doesn't answer and he sees tears flowing down her cheek. “We will keep living. Could you please bring a blanket?”

Astarion reluctantly lets them go and picks up a thick fur blanket from the floor. Then they sit together with their backs against the wall, covering their sick daughter with the blanket. Only a desperate cough echoes through the room.

Children die all the time. Mostly little kids like Alethaine. Daggerlake isn't a very big town, but Astarion knows that at least three babies have died this year. From disease. Small children like this are too vulnerable. It happens all the time.

There's a chance that tomorrow Astarion will have to dig a grave and put a tiny bundle in there that never had a chance to grow up.

It's so unfair that it makes Astarion want to howl.

"Astarion," Tiriel touches his curls. "Let's talk. The silence is killing me."

“What do you want to talk about, my sweet?”

“I don't know… Anything.” Tiriel places the girl in his hands and Astarion flinches sensing the heat of Alethaine’s body. Fever. A terrible killing fever. “Do you think she is a dhampir?”

“She is an elf like I was before I died.”

When Tiriel was pregnant, he read as much as possible about dhampirs. Deadly and fast, half-vampires don’t need blood and can live in the sun. But they have vampiric strength, can walk on ceilings, and regenerate much faster than mortals. No wonder vampires are often jealous of their children.

But at the same time, the life of a dhampir is full of hardships. Neither a vampire, nor a mortal, they are doomed to be alone. Once they feel bloodlust for the first time and fangs replace the canines, they are outcasts often disowned by their own mortal families.

But does it have to be like that? Astarion has been fighting the odds against his vampiric nature for the last twenty years. Why can’t his daughter?

But Astarion is afraid they will never learn the answer to either of their questions. Alethaine opens her mouth and makes a deep breath as if suffocating. Something doesn’t allow her to breathe and she makes hissing sounds. Her little eyes are watery - by this time she can only cry.

So can her parents.

“I wouldn’t want to, I think,” Tiriel says. “If she is dhampir it means she is alone. Even if other spawns have children too, what is the chance she will ever meet them?”

Astarion kisses Tiriel’s cheek. if Alethaine dies, they bury her and leave. Daggerlake is a welcoming town but it will be a place of sorrow for them.

Tiriel adjusts herself a bit.

“Fuck” she mutters. Astarion immediately smells the blood. Tiriel’s thumb is bleeding. “A fucking splinter.”

Alethaine cries at the top of her lungs.

Astarion stares at his daughter with shock. She screams with the strength they didn’t know she posseses. It’s desperate. Angry.

Demanding.

This moment she doesn’t sound like a child. She sounds like a little beast.

Before Astarion makes up any coherent thought, Tiriel puts her bleeding thumb to Alethaine’s lips, making the blood pour into her mouth.

“Tiriel, what are you doing?”

Tiriel doesn’t answer. The girl makes sucking movements as her mother squeezes drops of blood from her finger.

And then her dark eyes turn red.

They glow in the half-lit room like two tiny lights.

Tiriel puts her fingers away and Alethaine makes a disgruntled sound. Her elven ears twitch.

The eyes stop glowing so intensely and return to their natural black color.

And then Alethaine laughs.

She is kicking her legs and stretching her arms to her parents.

The girl is happy. Happy like a well-fed vampire.

“Astarion, look at her gums.”

Two baby fangs. Very small, almost kitten-like.

“It wasn’t a fever,” Astarion mutters. “It was a bloodlust.”

Of course… If she was older she would just try to get blood from somewhere.

But when you are five months old you can’t do a lot of things.

Poor girl, how she suffered those two days.

Is dhampir bloodlust the same as vampiric? Was she feeling her stomach being ripped apart, her throat hurting and bleeding? Maybe it was even worse for her? Maybe her mortal nature was fighting the bloodthirsty monster, causing Alethaine to cry in pain?

Helpless baby alone with her pain and fear while her parents didn't think of the most obvious explanation.

** Astarion sits at the doorstep with a plushie doll in his hands. The toy has white hair and elven ears, and now Astarion is stitching small fangs to its mouth.

The tears prickle his eyes.

He’s condemned his child for a life of hardships. For loneliness, for constant war against herself. If someday Alethaine shows up at his doorstep blaming him for all her tragedies, he will not even try to defend himself.

“No, kitten, I don’t care if you don’t like it! I can’t breastfeed you anymore and I am not giving you any blood! You eat normal food!” He hears Tiriel’s voice from inside the house.

Alethaine isn’t going to comply easily.

Then he hears footsteps from behind.

“What are you doing?” Tiriel asks.

“Adding fangs to her toy.”

Tiriel sits beside him.

“You have mash in your hair.” Astarion notices

“I know. You should see the other girl. How do you feel about giving her a bath?”

“I don't think you should ask. It’s my child. It seems like… even more mine now.”

“Hey, don't be upset. We knew it was possible.”

“I just… Her eyes, Tiriel, you saw them.They were like theirs… My siblings…Cazador… the same fucking glowing eyes as if she was a vampire, too!”

“It’s because of blood. She doesn’t have to drink it, she can eat normal food.”

“We should have found the cure before making a child.”

“But we didn’t find any.”

Tiriel takes a wet piece of rag and wipes her hair. “Astarion, I am going to talk to you seriously and, please, pay attention to every word I say.”

“I am all pointy ears, my love.”

“I was beaten and humiliated daily for who I was. My family didn't even give me a name because they despised me. But when I met elves for the first time they called me “garbage” - Biir. Half-something, half a person. Half elves aren't uncommon. There are surprisingly many in big cities. But I’ve been taught to despise my body, to hate my ears, to be embarrassed of my own existence. And our daughter is a dhampir. And I am sure there aren’t many like her. This world will have a thousand opportunities to shove her differences up to her nose. This world will teach Alethaine to hate herself. I can guarantee you she will try to pull her fangs out or maybe will ask someone to knock them out. She will cover herself not to let people see how pale she truly is. And we must not be a part of her problems.”

“Tiriel, I would never - “

“She is a girl, Astarion. Her image of herself will be formed mostly by you, not by me. The way you will perceive her will be the way she will see herself. And if she sees resentment, if she senses your sorrows that she isn’t a normal child, she will start hating herself. She will feel it. And it will stay with her till her long days are over.”

“Tiriel, what exactly in my behavior tells you that I am going to mistreat her? She is my child! She is…”

“I didn’t mean to ignore the fact she is a dhampir. You must cherish her differences. We must love her for being a dhampir. We must form this idea that it’s good she is a dhampir.”

Astarion chuckles. To be honest, he has never accepted his vampirism. It happened against his will and he would give anything to get rid of it. It is a curse. And now… his daughter is cursed as well.

“Astarion, this is important. Even the tiniest things will affect her. And we will have to deal with the consequences.”

The girl cries for her parents, and Tiriel, planting a kiss on Astarion’s forehead, returns inside.

Several hours later, when a washed and clean-clothed Alethaine is happily lying on her parents' bed and trying to make some coherent movements, Astarion finally finds enough moral strength to accept the reality.

He takes his daughter in his arms and walks up to the ceiling. The girl laughs and tries to bite him.

"Aren't you the cutest dhampir in Faerûn?" he mutters. "I can't wait to teach you how to use those fangs in battle. You will be deadly, my princess! But don't bite your mother, that's my prerogative."

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96

809 notes · View notes

dancingbirdie · 6 months

Note

This request is really out of the blue but, i need I CRAVE i require a fic where tav and astarion finally find a cure for his vampirism (in dnd5 it can actually happen yay!) and he manages to see his reflection again and finally have his natural eye color again (blue bc he's prob a moon elf but I don't mind other colors too). The fangs can stay or not, idc, i just want my boy happy, in love, and cared for. Bonus points if there's cuddles too

OK first of all, thanks for this prompt!! Second, I had to break this up into two parts because I'm afraid of how unwieldy it would get otherwise. So see part 1 below. I'm actively writing part 2 and should have that posted within the next few days. Hope you enjoy!

UPDATE: Chapter 2 available here!

I Promised You (Chapter 1)

Rating: G

Pairing: Astarion x GN!reader

Word Count: 3.1K

Warnings/Tags: mentions of unconsciousness, cheeky banter, domestic life, post-events of BG3, potentially problematic levels of self-sacrifice by reader.

***

“All right. I think you’re ready,” Gale affirmed as he peered over your shoulder, analyzing your hand movements as you practiced the incantation.

“You think? Shouldn’t we wait until you’re sure?” you replied, heavy skepticism coloring your tone.

“I can’t give you my complete assurance because you haven’t actually cast the spell,” the wizard sighed.

The two of you had had this argument many times over the past several months as you studied and practiced. And studied and practiced some more. The conclusion was always the same, but your anxiety always managed to convince you that a different outcome would be had if you just asked him again.

Conjuration magic was one of the most difficult forms to master. Yes, you had specialized in it during your formative years, under the tutelage of several learned wizards across Faerûn, but this spell was perhaps the pinnacle of feats in conjuration. Only a handful of wizards could perform it. Thankfully Gale was among that number, which is why you had come to him for help.

“As I’ve said, this isn’t a spell you can just cast for practice runs,” he continued. “You have one chance. And if it works, the sheer power of it is undoubtedly going to knock you unconscious.”

“I know, I know,” you grumbled. “I just… I need to be absolutely perfect. I have to do this. For him.”

“Have you told him what you’re planning yet?” Gale prodded.

“No. Not yet. I didn’t want to get his hopes up. Or have him tell me how unlikely success will be. Not until I was absolutely sure I could do this.”

“I see,” the wizard returned, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Well, tonight is as good a time to tell him as any. There’s nothing more I can teach you to prepare for this. You know the incantation by heart. You perform the gestures almost through muscle memory now. You’re ready.”

“I’m ready,” you repeated, as if saying the words would will it to be so.

“Send me a missive if he wants to go through with this. I’ll come to the cottage and oversee the spell’s casting.”

“All right,” you nodded.

“It’s going to work. You have to believe it’s going to work,” Gale encouraged, meeting your eyes with a serious, stern sort of expression.

“It’s going to work,” you agreed. “It’s going to work.”

***

It was dusk by the time you returned to the cottage. It was a modest home you shared with Astarion, situated just outside the city walls. It had a lovely view of the rolling hills that surrounded Baldur’s Gate, and proximity to the Chionthar River gave the air a refreshing, misty feel. Pastoral communities dotted the countryside with sheep and cattle grazing freely during the day, though they had returned to their stables long before your return.

Astarion was no fan of the bucolic lifestyle, as he was wont to remind you. But you both agreed that this living situation afforded him better meal prospects than the rats, cats and errant stray dogs that dwelled within the city limits. At least this way, he had more fulfilling options for food, since the livestock attracted their fair share of large predators. A mild, perpetual confusion charm that you cast kept the neighbors from questioning why – unlike their peers in neighboring villages and towns – their animals were never plagued by roving bears and panthers.

Astarion was lounging listlessly in the bay window of the den when you entered your home, one leg dangling off the ledge of his reading nook while he carelessly flipped through a book. Probably one he had pilfered from Gale’s stockpile a few weeks ago, you surmised. There had been an uptick in the wizard’s grumbling about discrepancies in his library catalog of late.

“Anything interesting?” you asked as you shrugged out of your traveler’s cloak and hung it on the coat rack by the door.

“Ugh, hardly,” Astarion grouched. “Nothing but debunked theories and philosophies from bloated scholars who died a hundred years ago.”

“You’re going to have to return Gale’s books to him eventually, you know. He’s beginning to realize how many from his library are missing.”

“Haven’t the slightest clue what you’re referring to, darling,” he replied breezily.

“Of course, love,” you chuckled, planting a kiss on his forehead as you passed him by to make your way into the kitchen.

“Care for a glass of wine?” you called.

“Mm, yes,” Astarion returned. “Red, please, dear.”

Uncorking the bottle and pouring the glasses gave you a brief moment to collect your thoughts. To steel your nerves for the conversation looming before you. Drawing a deep breath in and exhaling it slowly, you made your way back into the den and braced for the inevitable.

“Darling, do you have a moment?” you asked as you offered Astarion his glass before taking a seat next to him. “I’d like to talk to you about something.”

“Gods, it must be serious,” he teased, straightening from his reclined pose to take the proffered glass and make room for you. “You like you’re about to be ill. Go on then, love, before you faint and spill this vintage all over the floor.”

“It is rather serious, in fact,” you began, clearing your throat that had suddenly become tight with nerves. “I’ve waited to tell you until now, but I’ve been researching some more difficult conjuration magic with Gale the past few months…”

“Oh?” Astarion prompted as you paused. “For what purpose, darling? I thought you had already mastered the school of conjuration.”

“I have. But this is a more specialized form. More… niche, I guess one might say. And, well…” you trailed off again, hesitant.

“Go on,” he encouraged.

“I’ve-been-researching-a-spell-that-cures-vampirism-and-I-think-I’ve-found-a-way,” you spat out all at once, the words tumbling into each other like a wagon train gone wild.

Astarion met your eyes with a blank stare, seemingly forgetting that his one hand had been in the process of lifting the wine glass to his lips.

“I beg your pardon?” he asked hoarsely.

You coughed to clear your throat. “What I mean to say is: I’ve been working with Gale for months now to learn a spell that can cure your vampirism. He and I believe I’m ready to perform it. If you would allow me to try, that is.”

“If this is your idea of a joke,” he murmured, a slight quiver in his voice. “Then I have to tell you, it’s absolutely not funny at all.”

“It’s not a joke!” you assured. “I swear to you, Astarion. It’s not a joke,” you continued, squeezing one of his hands in yours.

He nodded absently, his gaze trained on your thumb as it soothed over the knuckles of his fingers.

“H-how?” he whispered finally. “How can you cure it? I’ve read every tome I could get my hands on for over two hundred years. Nothing, nothing, I’ve read has ever offered a solution.”

“Because this is a highly guarded spell. It’s only passed down through oral tradition among wizards who specialize in conjuration magic. Which is why I’ve needed Gale’s help,” you explained. “I broached the topic with him some time ago, told him how we were going to look for some way to cure your vampirism. Being a master of magicks himself, I thought he would be a good source of information for me to begin my research. I wasn’t even aware of the spell until he shared it with me. He’s been teaching me the mechanics of it since then. It’s been a difficult spell to master but–”

“What’s the cost?” Astarion interjected suddenly, meeting your gaze with a new intensity.

“It will cost you nothing, obviously,” you retorted, disliking where the conversation was heading.

Astarion huffed through his nose. A caustic, frustrated sort of sound. “Don’t play cute with me, darling. You know what I mean.”

“No. I don’t,” you hedged.

“What will the spell cost you,” he bit out through a clenched jaw.

You bit your lip, hesitant to reply. Astarion’s gaze never wavered.

Finally you sighed. Better to reveal the consequences of it all than attempt to hide the downsides from him. Even though they were negligible in your eyes, compared to the wonder that would be returning his elfhood to him, you knew he would resent being told only partial truths. You couldn’t fault him for it. You would feel the same, were the roles reversed.

“It will permanently weaken me. There’s a small, very small, chance it could kill me if I perform it wrong,” you confessed.

“No,” Astarion responded bluntly, without a hint of hesitation. He rose from the bench and made to leave the room. As if the matter had been settled and it was time to crack on.

“Wait! What do you mean, ‘no’?” you blurted. Jumping to your feet, you snatched at the sleeve of his nightshirt.

He turned to peer at you with a haughty gaze, one eyebrow arched delicately. “Exactly that. No. You’re not risking your life on the off chance of this working.”

“But it’s not an off chance. It will work! And the likelihood of me dying is incredibly slim!” you protested.

“But the likelihood of you being ‘permanently weakened’ is essentially certain, yes?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as it sounds. And besides, I don’t mind. I want to do this, Astarion.”

He scoffed. “Have you gone absolutely mad? ‘It’s not as bad as it sounds.’ Do you even know what will actually happen to you afterwards?” he shot back angrily.

“No,” you admitted, a bit quieter.

He deliberately widened his eyes at your response, crossing his arms across his chest as if to say See? My point proven.

“But I know I can handle it! And I love you enough to try!” you retorted.

That appeared to be the wrong choice of words. You realized it immediately as his expression morphed from outright anger to something darker, icier.

“Well then, it seems we’re at an impasse, darling,” he growled. “Because I love you enough not to have you go through with this.”

You opened your mouth to object once more, but he continued, ignoring you.

“AND, since it is my body and my life we’re discussing, it means I have the final say on the matter. My answer is no.”

You had anticipated this conversation going many different ways. You thought you had prepared for the most likely scenarios. But, in all your pondering, you hadn’t seriously considered the possibility that Astarion would reject this opportunity outright.

Your eyes welled with tears. Hot, angry, disconsolate tears.

“Astarion,” you murmured, desperate. Angry though you both were, you couldn’t resist the urge to curl into his embrace. Gently, you pulled at his arms in an attempt to un-cross them. With a soft sigh, he allowed you to manipulate him so that you were pressed chest to chest. Your arms banded around his waist, locking him against you. Slowly, he raised his arms to mimic your stance, peering down at you.

“Astarion, my darling, this is your chance. It’s the only chance we’ve found in over two years of searching. I know I can do it. And you can win it all back. I can help you. Let me do this,” you pleaded.

“Darling, how could I ever ‘win it all back’ when there’s a possibility I could lose you forever? Or that you could be seriously harmed in the process?” he lifted a hand to cup your cheek, smiling sadly. “I would never forgive myself if you were harmed in an attempt to cure me.”

You closed your eyes, tears slipping freely down your cheeks. “Please. I know I can do this. Please let me do this. I want to do this for you.”

“Come, pup, no more tears. I’ve given you my answer,” he murmured, swiping a thumb across your cheekbones to catch each tear.

You opened your eyes to glare at him. “If the roles were reversed, would you want to try this for me?”

“Of course,” Astarion huffed. “But that’s obviously different, I –”

“WHY? Why is it different?” you cried, clutching him.

“Because you’re worth it!” he implored, arms vibrating as though he were resisting the urge to shake sense into you. “Your soul is worth a thousand of mine! It’s not marred by death and torture and sacrilege. Can’t you see that? Don’t you see?”

“No, I don’t,” you argued obstinately. “Because you are worth it to me. Your soul is priceless to me. I love you. You’re the love of my life.”

Astarion said nothing, just stared at you with sad eyes. You couldn’t tell if his silence meant you were persuading him, but you couldn’t relent without giving at least one more desperate plea.

“I promised you. Remember? After everything that happened, I promised you we would find a way for you to walk in the sun once more. I didn’t make that promise lightly. I want to do this for you.”

“Darling…” he murmured sadly, shaking his head.

“Astarion, please,” you beseeched, shifting to clutch his face between both of your palms. “I’m literally begging you to let me try. Gale and I have been practicing for almost a year now. He wouldn’t tell me I was ready unless he was certain. I know I can do this. Please. Let me try.”

“Don’t you have any regard for your own life?” he whispered. “How is it that I’m more concerned for your well being than you are?”

“Darling, all of us have the slightest potential of dying every single day we continue to breathe. Anything poses some risk to our lives. I’m telling you, the risk of me dying from this is the same as the risk I take casting any other magic.”

“But there’s still a permanent cost to doing this. Have you even asked Gale to elaborate on what that entails?”

“No,” you admitted a bit sheepishly. “I didn’t really think about it.”

Astarion rolled his eyes but planted a kiss against your forehead. “You’re ridiculous, you know.”

“I’m sorry that I was so ecstatic about finding a cure that I leapt straight into studying it!” you said defensively, although your tone lacked teeth.

He chuckled and wrapped you in a tighter embrace, resting his cheek on the top of your head. The two of you stood like that for some time, arms wrapped around each other, lost in thought.

After a while, Astarion cleared his throat. “I want us to speak to Gale. I want to know the full details, the consequences of a spell like this.”

You jerked your head up in surprise, staring at him with wide, elated eyes.

“I’m not saying yes,” he clarified, attempting to tamp down your burgeoning excitement. “But I’m willing to hear more about this… possibility.”

A delighted squeal rocketed up your throat. Quick as a flash, you jumped to wrap your legs around his waist. Long used to your ebullient antics, Astarion caught you with a practiced ease. His arms banded under your thighs and across your lower back, squeezing gently.

“I love you, you daft, feral thing,” he chuckled, nuzzling your cheek.

***

“I would have gone over this months ago, had you afforded me the opportunity,” Gale had groused upon arriving at the cottage the following evening. The three of you shared a bottle of barrel-aged Callidyren while Astarion peppered the wizard with umpteen questions about the spell’s mechanics. To his credit, Gale managed to assuage Astarion’s concerns. At least for the most part.

The permanent effects of casting the spell, you both learned, would diminish your inner well of magic, rendering you unable to cast as many spells as you currently could before resting for a longer period of time. Almost as though the cost of performing the spell would revert you back to the strength you had had as an apprentice so many years ago. You would still be powerful, capable of wielding even the most intricate of spells. But your endurance would be shorter, more concentrated. It was a price you were more than willing to pay. Even more so now that you had actually allowed Gale to describe the effects in detail.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t press for more details,” Astarion grumbled.

“It didn’t seem important at the time,” you sniffed, waving a hand dismissively. “Still doesn’t, in my opinion.”

“You know, in some schools of thought,” Astarion countered dryly, “people believe the difference between bravery and complete idiocy is so fine a line that it frequently gets crossed.”

“So I’ve heard,” you crooned. “But, alas, I’m nothing if not an incredibly adept fool in love.”

Gale observed the two of you warily, as if uncertain whether this exchange constituted harmless domestic banter or an undercurrent of severe agitation.

“Yes, well,” he interrupted awkwardly, “as I said before, you’re as ready as you will ever be to perform this magic. I’ll be here to supervise and intervene, if necessary, though I don’t think it will be.”

“Bully for us. Is there anything else we should be prepared for, if we’re to go through with this?” Astarion snapped. “Sudden onset sliminess? Gills? Frothing at the mouth?”

You winced. He was always his most discourteous self when he was afraid. Gale might not realize it, but you knew him well enough to tell when his rudeness was obfuscation.

“Ahem,” Gale coughed, clearly affronted by the impertinent question. “No, nothing of that sort. But this spell is incredibly demanding on one’s body. It’s very likely they’ll fall unconscious once it’s been cast. The effect shouldn’t last for more than a few hours. Enough time for a proper rest.”

“You failed to mention that yesterday,” Astarion said peevishly, glaring at you from across the dining table.

“Because it’s the equivalent to me needing a good sleep after a tiring day,” you quipped.

Gale winced. “It’s a bit more serious than that, I’d argue.”

“Thank you,” Astarion intoned.

“Tsk. An inconvenience at worst. Nothing unmanageable,” you retorted. “So, what say you, darling? Are you willing to give this a try?”

Astarion’s glare shifted between you and Gale, studying you both.

“And you both swear to me that all information is now disclosed, yes? No partial truths, no hidden side effects?”

“I swear,” the two of you responded in unison. You reached for Astarion’s hand across the table.

“My darling, this will work. I’m going to be fine. And you’re going to be cured,” you smiled gently. “Please, trust me.”

He squeezed your hand, crimson eyes boring into your own.

Finally, after a moment, he gave you a terse nod.

“All right. Let’s try,” he agreed.

910 notes · View notes

loviatarsluv · 26 days

Note

Request!

I posted details here, it’s for Gale!

https://www.tumblr.com/cherifrog/739699979425333248/anyone-else-interested-in-like-a-super-jealous

YUHHHHH now THIS is what im talkin about!!!!!!!

*cracks knuckles* lets get this party started shall we

(I am so sorry to be answering this literally a million years too late I’ve redone and rewritten this prompt like 100000 times but I finally like this version!!! so here we go!!!)

Gale x AFAB f!tav

rating: oh boy this one is certainly rated M for mature

CW: smut, inappropriate use of mage hand, rough sex, PiV, oral, gale being jealous and going absolutely FERAL

word count: 5.4k

let’s get itttt

If looks could kill, surely, Astarion would have been long dead— well, even more so— by now.

Gale was never exactly fond of the pale elf from the start, and he was well aware the feeling was likely incredibly mutual— but gods, he swore he was beginning to actually hate him.

At least, he hated the way he looked at her. The way he leered at her. The way he purred her name with that practiced and over-rehearsed seductive charm of his. The way he would lock piercing crimson eyes with Gale’s blazing umber ones as he cozied up to her at the fire with that deviant and knowing smirk on his stupid pointy face. The way she would smile at him the warmest, kindest, most hopelessly and adorably oblivious smile in response to the charlatan’s blatant advances.

Maybe he did hate him, upon further reflection. If only for the last reason alone.

Astarion would find any way to touch her and be able get away with it— his hand lingering on the small of her back as he passed her, touching her shoulder to get her attention, brushing hair out of her face when stray pieces fell over her eyes— all things that seemed innocent enough until you realized who was doing them and the devious smirk on his face when his gaze would meet that of the wizard that was surely plotting his second untimely demise.

Though, he could hardly blame him.

And Gale never got upset with her, of course, he knew it wasn’t her fault and honestly, he truly didn’t blame Astarion for wanting her— gods, who could possibly resist her?

Certainly not Gale, not even if he tried; and he had tried, to no avail. Yet that didn’t quell his frustration toward the silver haired and equally silver tongued vampire for attempting to swoop in on what was likely the first real chance at mortal love he’d had in a very long time.

He’d spent the early days in their adventure together absolutely beside himself with how taken he was by her nearly instantly. He felt like a smitten schoolboy all over again when he thought about the feeling of her soft but strong hands gripping his as she pulled him from the stone by the nautiloid crash with most impressive ease, the way she looked at him with wonder and curiosity, and even a flicker of something else that he recognized as attraction because he imagined it was mirrored in his own face at the sight of her.

It was then only worsened by the night that they channeled the weave together and the kiss she’d pictured them sharing— the way their limbs tangled and their lips pressed together softly, then passionately and fervently. Her fingers wrapped in his chestnut tresses and his hands gripping the fabric at her waist— that image will be burnt into the fabric of his mind forevermore, he’s certain.

Not to mention, the way her pupils dilated and her cheeks flared and flushed a heavenly shade of pink at the way he praised her as she successfully mimicked the incantation and his motions. It was enough to have him panting and attempting to tame the straining erection in his trousers when he retired to his tent that night.

He thought he’d mastered the art of managing to keep such thoughts like that at bay during his time of isolation as he tried to keep the orb sated and calm and very nonexplosive— but that was before her, after all.

It was pathetically easy at the time, considering his amount of interaction with other humans had gone from healthy to nonexistent entirely so he didn’t have much to think about aside from himself; perhaps when he was truly desperate or feeling especially lonely, he’d think about Mystra and the nights he’d spent in Elysium with her (literally and metaphorically).

But now, any attempts to be chaste or think chaste thoughts were moot in her presence.

Especially after the night they shared under the stars in the wilderness of the Shadow Cursed Lands.

They’d hardly been able to go more than a few hours without some kind of touch in the days following that perfect evening— whether it be a hand on her lower back, or holding one of her much smaller hands in his as he helped her scale a wall or hop across a boulder that she was more than capable of managing herself. A stolen kiss when no one was looking. Or, if they were lucky, they could steal a few moments alone in some ruined and crumbling crypt where he could bury himself between her thighs and send a silent thank you to whatever gods had a hand in creating a creature as divine as her.

That being said, they hadn’t been entirely discreet about their affections— not that they really wanted to be. Gale certainly had no reservations about making it known that he was claiming her for himself, despite his gentlemanly nature chastising him for it and reminding himself she was a person, not a prize to be claimed.

He would never say that she was, anyway, do not mistake it— being raised solely by a woman such as the inimitable Morena Dekarios had beaten into his core that women were not to be claimed or to be owned but to be cherished and treated as your equal. He would never claim otherwise, he couldn’t.

On the other hand, he was also acutely aware that his were not the only set of eyes that wistfully tracked her every move and every breath throughout the day within their strange band of wayward souls, and a very base part of him needed to send the clearest message he could muster without flat out verbally declaring that she was his.

It was very unlike him, this sort of possessive and primal nature, but he couldn’t deny that a small fraction of himself that he usually shoved into the deepest recesses of his being loved it for that fact. It was a part of him reserved only for her, as she was the only one who’d ever been able to coax it out of him.

And thus, he felt absolved of any guilt about the way he glared daggers at the side of Astarion’s head and pictured hurling a fire bolt at the undead man as he spoke to her in hushed tones across camp.

At least he knew it wouldn’t kill him. Although, he’d probably slit Gale’s throat for singing his singlet in return.

It was enough to keep the heat in his palm at bay for the time being.

He tried to discreetly move close enough to hear their conversation, moving toward Wyll’s tent that happened to be just a few paces away from Astarion’s and disguising his intentions as simply having a chat over a glass of wine with the warlock.

Wyll’s eyes light up as the wizard approaches, shooting him a dashing and very princely smile that he was certain had made many a maiden swoon in his younger years as the duke’s son, galavanting through ballrooms and dragging said maidens to the dance floor after either one too many glasses of brandy or none at all.

“Gale, my friend! Fancy a glass of wine?” He kindly proposed, tilting the glass in his hand in Gale’s direction.

Gale offers an almost genuine smile, nodding. “Thank you, Wyll. I think a hearty glass of wine is just what I need at the moment,” he laments with a sigh.

Wyll disappears for only a moment before returning with a glass and wine bottle in hand. “That bad, huh?”

Gale gratefully takes the silver glass and holds it out for Wyll to pour the rest of the Amnan Liquer he’d been holding onto since their escapades at the former Rosymorn Monastery turned Githyanki Crèche.

He turns his body just enough to keep both his lover and the offending vampire in his line of sight, attempting to tune into their conversation and realizing that he can faintly hear the melodic hum of her voice, as well as the silky tones of Astarion’s.

Firebolt. No, no.

Wyll’s eyes dart between Gale, then Tav, then Astarion, his eyebrow raising. “Astarion certainly doesn’t lack in the gall department, I’ll give him that.”

Gale huffs a bitter laugh. “Can’t fault him. As much as I want to.”

Wyll gently bumps his shoulder into Gale’s with a reassuring smile. “One can’t always be a gentleman, Gale. I respect your restraint, but if I were you, even I would be cutting in on whatever it is that he’s doing with her. Love the fellow, but I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him.”

Gale goes silent, giving himself a moment to try to catch any of what was being said between them, only hearing the sound of her laughter intermingling with Astarion’s— and suddenly Wyll’s advice had become all the more tempting to follow.

I could just go over there, he thinks. ‘Assert my dominance’ the old fashioned way. Or…

A wickedly devious idea flutters across his mind, and a smirk forms on his lips. Before he can realize it and stop it, Wyll’s tadpole connects to his, and Wyll snorts as he sees what debauchery Gale’s brain had concocted.

“She’d have your arse in a second,” he jokingly warns. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Gale wanted to listen to reason (Wyll Ravengard being the voice of reason, in this instance) and just do the diplomatic thing as he always did— but a part of him wanted to make a show of it all. To show her as well as everyone else the lengths he’d go to for her.

He whispers a simple cantrip and waves his hand, blue light glowing from his palm as he calls for a spectral hand to appear before him. He eyes the mage hand for a moment, waving his fingers and watching it as it mirrors his movements with perfect accuracy. A rush of excitement passes through him as he ponders the possibilities, but debates for a moment whether he should— only to hear the lovely melody that was her laughter once again and his decision was sealed.

He commands the hand to become invisible, the only way for him to tell it was still there was the very faint outline of it that you could only notice if you had been looking for it. He flicks his hand in her direction, commanding it to fly toward her.

“Your funeral,” Wyll chuckles, taking a long sip from his chalice, eyebrows raised.

The hand obliges, quickly floating to her but stopping just beside her. She shivers slightly as it grazes her bare shoulder, her head snapping in the direction of the sudden sensation.

Gale freezes for a moment, praying she doesn’t catch on too soon. When she finally turns her attention back to Astarion, he relaxes, then motions for the hand to gently brush her hair over her other shoulder, causing her to jump and look again, her eyes narrowed as she scans the area. Her gaze lands on Gale, and he tries to remain composed but cannot hide the pleased smirk on his face. She furrows her brows, a look of confusion and suspicion on her face as she turns away once again. She still hadn’t caught on just yet, much to Gale’s delight.

He continues once again, now commanding the hand to gently caress the back of her neck, the cool sensation of its spectral palm causing goosebumps to rise and her hair to stand on end. She sucks in a sharp breath, causing Astarion’s eyes to snap up to her.

“Everything alright, dear?” He hears Astarion ask, his signature shit-eating grin still on his lips.

She nods, clearing her throat. “Mhm, sorry, I just— ah, got a bit chilly.”

He cocks a brow at her. “I would offer to warm you, but I don’t think that I am qualified for the task,” he jokes, causing Gale’s jaw to clench.

Firebolt. Ooh, better yet, Fireball. Ice knife. Lightning bolt, perhaps?

She laughs, then gasps once again as the hand has now relocated to the front of her, gently tracing the outline of her collar bone. It then follows the curve of the top of her breast, settling between her cleavage for a moment before continuing down further and further, grazing her abdomen before stopping just at the waistline of her breeches.

“Gods, I shouldn’t be watching this,” Wyll grunts, shaking his head and allowing his gaze to drop to the ground.

She turns and shoots a piercing look at Gale, now fully aware of what was happening. He winks at her, before commanding the hand to continue its journey down her body, ghosting over the spot between her thighs. She squeezes her legs shut tight, in an attempt to quell the heat pooling low in her core despite her rising frustration toward Gale and her embarrassment.

“Darling, do you need a blanket? Perhaps we could move into my te—”

“I’m fine,” She blurts, loud enough so that she knows Gale hears her, as she refuses to give in to his childish behavior. “What were you saying?”

As Astarion continues whatever riveting story he’d been telling before she distracted him, she shoots Gale one last pathetic glance, not sure whether she was begging him to stop or keep going. He smirks, taking her pleading eyes as his queue to continue, moving the mage hand southward and grazing her blazing hot center.

She sucks in another breath, this time a lot quieter, her head falling back that she attempts to play off as if she were simply looking up at the stars.

Astarion’s head shoots up to look at her again, almost as if he were beginning to get frustrated.

“S-stars are bright tonight,” She stammers, eliciting a chuckle from Gale. He was enjoying this far too much to stop now.

He wills the hand to press two fingers down right where he knows her clit is, reveling in the way her back arches at the sudden touch, right where he knew she loved it.

Astarion’s eyebrow raises as he eyes her, her face flushed, her hair in disarray and her legs clamped shut tight. He was— unfortunately for her— very good at reading body language, even more specifically hers, and he was beginning to catch on to her predicament. His eyes dart over toward Gale who was not at all subtle with the devious smirk on his face as his hand continued commanding the spell.

“Your wizard is clever, I’ve got to hand it to him.” He smirks, stifling a chuckle.

Her eyes go wide, the hot blush in her cheeks only increasing.

“I’m going to kill him.” She hisses through gritted teeth, before twisting and facing Gale, who could not contain the triumphant grin on his face despite her very displeased expression.

“Do it out where I can watch, won’t you, darling? I’m quite overdue for a good show.” He calls after her, watching her storm toward Gale, shaking his head and chuckling with delight.

Gale dismisses the spell as he spots her making a very angry beeline toward him, then crosses his arms behind his back innocently as she approaches him.

“I warned you, you cheeky bastard.” Wyll grumbles, watching with anticipation and vaguely hidden amusement as she stomps toward the wizard beside him with murderous intent.

Gale offers her a smile as she approaches, to which she only offers a grimace.

“Hello, my love. Feeling alright?” He says equally as innocently, in spite of the devilish grin on his face.

She shakes her head. “Tent. Now.”

He raises his hands in defense, shit-eating smirk ever persistent. “Your wish is my command, darling.” He draws out the pet name to mimic the way Astarion says it, earning a rather angry eye roll.

He trails behind her as she continues her warpath toward his tent, his heart racing as he imagines exactly what he plans to do the second he gets her alone— he’d saved those thoughts for after Wyll’s tadpole’s connection broke from his own to spare him the filthy details.

She ducks into his tent brusquely, the flap slapping closed behind her before he makes his own way in after her. He chuckles at her ire, and the fact that in any other situation he’d be on his knees begging her for forgiveness in response to her irritation toward him— but this time, he planned on using it much to his advantage. Fuel for the fire, so to speak.

The second he enters the tent, her wild eyes are on him and she’s standing with her arms crossed over her chest which was still heaving, her face still completely flushed.

“What the hells is wrong with y—”

Her tirade is cut off by lips roughly crashing onto hers, her words being instantly smothered then swallowed by him and his tongue and the bittersweet taste of wine on his breath. She wants to fight back but finds her efforts moot as she instantly melts into him, allowing him to maneuver her exactly as he wishes.

Rough but elegant hands grip her waist, pulling her body flush to his, enough for her to feel the erection straining to be freed from his pants against her lower stomach. The heat that had been coiling and pooling low within her had only reignited with a vengeance now, partially fueled by her anger toward him and mostly fueled by her ever present desire for him.

His hands migrated to palm the swell of her ass, kneading the plush but still firm flesh that always caught his attention even in the worst moments such as the middle of a tense battle— something he almost felt the need to punish her for, even though it wasn’t truly her fault.

His tongue explores her mouth hungrily as her hands move to begin undoing the buttons of his linen shirt, before one of his hands catches her wrist and holds it, lacing her fingers through his. He breaks the kiss, dark umber irises pooling with pure liquid lust and carnality as they meet her more perplexed ones.

Leaving her unspoken questions unanswered, he unbuttons her pants with one hand, yanking them down her legs until she takes it upon herself to kick them off and discard them somewhere on the ground within the tent. He tugs at the bottom edge of her shirt, and she wordlessly grants him permission with only a small nod and a raise of her arms to afford him some ease in ripping it over her head and adding to the growing pile of clothes scattered across the floor of the small space.

She’s lit only by the soft orange glow of the campfire leaking in through the crack of the tent flap that neither of them had bothered to seal, her skin radiant even in the dimness of the night. He drinks in her frame, eyes skimming along every contour of her body, every rounded edge and every sharp one— even the shadow she cast against the back wall of his tent was erotic, all hips and curves and the most heavenly structure.

As if she’d been lovingly built by Sune’s own gracious hands.

“Lay down,” he commands, pointing to the bedroll that he’d preemptively fixed and made extra comfortable with several more layers of blankets, pillows, and furs. “And spread your legs for me.”

She obliges instantly, quickly but gracefully laying atop the nest of cotton and fur and velvet, her hair splaying around her head and framing her like a halo— only serving to make his already painfully stiff cock twitch against the fabric of his pants and a bead of precum leak from the tip. He feared he may not even be able to make it long enough to be inside of her at this rate.

“That’s my girl,” he almost moans, his voice low and husky and reverent as he drops to his knees before her, moving to kneel between her legs. “My beautiful girl.”

She blushes and shyly looks away, her bottom lip caught between her teeth to bite back a smile. He leans over her, gently gripping her chin with his fingers and moving her face back to look at him. “Eyes on me, my love. My love.” He drawls, dragging out his words in hopes that they’d have more time to sink into her precious mind that he cherished just as much, if not more than her wholly divine body.

Gale was all together a typically patient man. He did almost everything meticulously and gracefully. He would spend hours studying a particular topic just to ensure that he’d get it right the very first time.

Gale as a lover was no different.

He’d spent hours and even days at this point learning everything he could about her body— every sensitivity, every weak spot, ticklish spot, every scar or freckle or blemish. The things she was insecure or shy about, the things that would send her eyes rolling back into her head.

He had become a consummate virtuoso at worshiping her body and what granted her the most pleasure possible. He lavished her in it, bathed her in every ounce of bliss he possibly could until she could no longer speak, much less think properly.

Tonight was no exception— though he was considerably less delicate than was typical for him, as he hungrily lapped at the heat between her thighs as if it contained the last drop of honey on the face of Faerun. He licked and kissed and sucked and drank in every bit of her essence he possibly could, not stopping even after she’d already come just to wring out every last bit of her pleasure for his own selfish need. The selfish need to taste her, to savor her. To devour her.

He didn’t stop until she was a tangled mess of shaking limbs and clammy skin and teary eyes, and she whimpered his name like a plea. Whether it were a plea to stop or to keep going was unclear for both of them.

He lifted his face, his beard and lips drenched in her slick as he licked the remains of her off of his lips and fingers, causing her to clamp her legs together at the sight. He smirks triumphantly, knowing full well that she was nearing being entirely spent and yet she still wanted more.

“Please,” she whimpered, leaning up (very unsteadily) to finish unbuttoning his shirt, her fingers fumbling with the buttons and the fabric. He relents and allows her to make her best attempt with her trembling fingers before he takes over for her, lifting it over his head and discarding the linen nearby.

Her finger gently trails from the dark purple mark of the orb on his chest down the hard planes of his torso until she reaches the waistband of his pants, dipping her finger underneath and tugging at it. Her eyes meet his full of intent, and he feels the tadpole in his head stir as she tries to connect to him.

I need to suck your cock. Please.

His eyes darken as he looks at her, the image of her perfectly pink lips wrapped around him searing into his mind— whether it being his own thoughts or hers invading his didn’t matter— but he shakes his head, then severs the connection.

She frowns, her bottom lip jutting out in a pout. He rubs his thumb along the swollen softness of it as he caresses her chin, tilting her head back slightly to get a better view of the elegant column of her neck. He had plans for the perfect and smooth expanse of the area between her jaw and her clavicle that he soon intended to enact. But not yet.

“Naughty girl,” he chastises her, but not without a devious smirk and a hint of lustful playfulness.

She whimpers again, sending goosebumps down his arms and the hair on them to raise on end. “Please, Gale. I want to make you feel good, I need to make you feel good,” she stammers, her eyes peering up at his, wanton and needy.

It was enough to almost oblige her request, but he knew if her mouth came anywhere near his already all too sensitive cock that he’d come apart at the seams instantly, and that just wouldn’t do.

“And I need to be inside of you,” he retorts, his voice soft but stern. “I need to claim what’s mine.” He nearly growls.

Gentleman Gale reprimands him in his mind, but is quickly overtaken by Her Gale— the one that only answers to her and belongs solely to her. The one that hoped with everything in him there was also a part of her that was his and only his.

Her mouth opens to speak, and he half expects her to yell at him and berate him for reducing her to a prize to be claimed— and is pleasantly surprised when she doesn’t.

“Please. Please come here, please fuck me,” she begs, the rasp in her voice as she does nothing short of absolutely erotic.

He needs no further instruction, and quickly removes his pants and undergarments, his erection springing free and already slick with his own desire. She eyes it with a hunger that he recognizes and has to ignore before the temptation to fuck her mouth grows any stronger.

He presses his strong but gentle hand against her chest, slowly pushing her back against the pillows as he moves to position himself at her entrance, her legs wrapping around his hips and urging him forward impatiently. He taps the side of one of her thighs in warning, rubbing the head of his cock across her already soaked folds to further lubricate it and tease her.

“Eager little thing, aren’t you?”

She whines, her voice broken as if she truly might cry if she goes another second without him inside her. “Gale.”

He chuckles darkly, once again pressing the swollen head of his cock at her entrance, slipping in as slowly as he can manage, mustering every bit of strength and willpower he has left not to just bury himself in her as deep as he can.

“Tell me,” he commands, his voice low and gruff but still needy, almost desperate.

She connects the dots instantly, knowing exactly what he wanted. What he craved. “I’m yours, Gale. Only yours.”

She cries out in shock, slight pain, and pure ecstasy as he harshly snaps his hips into hers, his cock burying to the hilt in her velvet heat.

Home. This felt like home.

He knew that he probably should have given her more time to adjust to him, and it was something he’d surely feel guilty about later, but Her Gale wanted her to feel it tomorrow. He wanted her to be reminded of this moment as she goes on about her day through the ache between her legs as she walks, constantly reminding her who fucks her like this, who loves her like this.

“My pretty girl, my perfect girl,” he chants, his words leaving his lips like a litany of prayer as if he were in a temple of worship. He’d always been a man of religion, but this was holier and more divine than anything he’d ever experienced— even sharing a bed with an actual goddess couldn’t compare.

She throws her head back, her eyes shut tightly and she desperately grips at the pillows around her to ground herself, her neck on full display. He leans down to place wet kisses in a trail from her jaw to her collarbone, biting and sucking in very obvious spots that she’d be hard pressed to be able to cover in the morning.

She writhes and moans underneath him, one of her hands moving to grip the back of his head and fist the hair at the nape of his neck, the sensation of her fingers tugging at his scalp blending from slight pain into pure pleasure earning a throaty grunt from him that rumbles in his chest.

He feels her tighten ever so slightly around him, her walls clenching and pulsing in a sort of warning. He continues his pace, driving her closer and closer to the precipice.

“Gale, I’m gonna—”

“I know, sweet girl, I know,” he coos, leaning down and pressing his lips to her sweat slicked forehead, then whispering, “come for me, my love.”

It wasn’t so much a demand as a desperate request, as his need to feel her come on him and to ride out the waves of her pleasure alongside her became almost devastating.

To urge her on even further, he slipped a hand down and began to rub quick circles around her clit as he pounded into her until she saw stars— it wasn’t long before she completely shattered underneath him, tumbling into free fall off the edge of the best orgasm she’d ever had.

She cries out a jumbled mess of I love you and I’m yours with his name sprinkled throughout as she reaches the peak and dives off the edge, her hips rocking upward into Gale’s as he continues to fuck her through her orgasm. He feels himself quickly approaching his own finish line, the feeling of her cunt pulsing and hugging his cock tighter and tighter driving him further and further.

A few more thrusts and he was done for, spilling everything he had in her and grunting her name as he came, the entire fiber of his being ripping apart and repairing itself as he went limp above her, barely having enough strength to brace himself with his hands on either side of her head as he gripped the pillows so that he doesn’t crush her under his weight.

They both fall silent apart from the sounds of their breathing steadying and slowing to a calm and regular pace, the only other sounds being that of the distant crackling of the fire and the even more distant sounds of their companions still wrapping up for the night and preparing for bed.

Her eyes flutter open to find his in the dim light of the fire, her hand reaching up to caress his cheek. He sighs and leans into her touch, turning his head to place a kiss to the center of her palm, the coarse hair of his beard scratching her skin and tickling it, making her giggle quietly.

“I’m still mad at you, you know,” she jokes, causing him to nibble at the skin of her palm playfully. “That wasn’t funny, Gale.”

He smiles and reaches for a rag to clean her up with. “I had hoped this would serve as an adequate apology.”

She sucks in a breath as he pulls out and rubs the rag across her still sensitive and throbbing core, her hips bucking upward slightly with some discomfort. “You expected to fuck me into complicity?”

He chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest as he finishes cleaning her, then tosses the rag aside and lays beside her, pulling her onto his chest.

“Not exactly,” he says, earning a disbelieving grimace from her. “I am sorry, for what it’s worth. I just— I don’t think you realize that seeing the way he interacts with you and the way you interact with him is nothing short of agonizing for me.”

She saw the hurt in his eyes even in the dark— the ache and the gnawing need for reassurance. She understood it all too well, as she’d done the same when the topic of Mystra would get brought up in the earlier days of their relationship.

“There is no other set of arms I’d rather have wrapped around me right now than yours. There is no other company I’d rather share in the way I share in yours. Don’t you know that?” She asked, shifting so that she’s leaning over him, his big brown eyes resembling those of a puppy being told it was a good boy.

“I am yours, Gale Dekarios,” she whispers. “Body and soul.”

Relief and pure elation smoothed out the concern from his features. He pulled her closer to him, until she was mostly on top of him and her head rested on his chest and he could press a long kiss against the top of her head, breathing in her scent and shutting his eyes, both of them drifting into a peaceful slumber.

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felixora · 6 months

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Baldur's Gate 3 Companion!Tav Ask List by @paarthursass

Please check their List here, it's literally a top tier list

(contains major spoilers for the game, and for some dark urge runs as well)

Had to redo this, but finally I'm satisfied with the result. Here's my drow Soulknife Rogue (please oh please adapt this subclass for the game) Arnafein Rilynghym.

General

1.Where can your Tav be recruited? Are they first encountered on the Nautiloid, or in the Nautiloid crash region? Or are they not recruitable until a later act?

He can be recruited not too far away from the Blighted Village area, in the forest outcropping.

He’ll be there with a pair of poorly equipped young tieflings and a group of goblins, trying to cool things down between the two and convince the goblins to leave the tieflings only to him. The player/party members might catch on some details in his facial expression that would be giving away a lie, as well as his attempts to place himself between tieflings and goblins.

As the player’s group comes closer, the player (and other companions, which is important) and Arno are connected through their tadpoles, though much more painfully than in other cases (the narrator might even comment on that). Arno would recognize in you another survivor that escaped the nautiloid and through pain would telepathically ask you to play along. After that with more demand addressing the goblins as “another True Soul came to look for them, so would they finally let them do their fucking job?” The player might choose the Deception/Persuasion route to play along with Arno, to simply attack the goblins (in which case both tieflings and Arno would help out) or attack Arno and tieflings under the guise of him “being the survivor, that Absolute cultists are looking for” (in this case tieflings would die and Arno will be captured and interrogated by Minthara).

2.Do the other companions have special comments or reactions upon recruiting your Tav?

Gale – A friendly drow! That’s a rarity in this place, as far as I can tell. Let’s hope this won’t be a double-crossing situation though.

Shadowheart – Arno seems well versed in dealing of these cultists. I just hope he won’t stick his nose in other’s thoughts – we have more than enough mind-probing as it is.

Astarion – Well that was a spectacle. I hope our newest addition won’t stop to help any stray or poor thing in need.

Wyll – It takes a lot of inner strength to stand by those in need, especially under the weight of your own troubles. Arno would be a good addition to our group.

Karlach – Well Arno seems to know some shit around here. Now we don’t need to blindly walk around in search of the bad guys place.

Lae’zel – The elf’s knowledge of this place seems useful. Can’t say the same of his handling of tadpole’s effects. We ought to be careful.

3.Does your Tav have any comments or advice when you recruit other companions?

Gale – Having a wizard around should improve our chances of survival. Though I’m sure as hell won’t be asking him about any teleportation.

Shadowheart – It’s good to have a helping cleric’s hand with us. However, the choice of name does bring a bit of ominous feel to this acquaintance.

Astarion – The whole knife play was a bit too on the nose for be, but I can understand his reaction. Let’s hope his bloody tendencies will be the problem of our enemies, and not ours.

Wyll – The Blade of Frontiers… Well, the name does sound grand, though cannot say I heard of it before.

Karlach – Karlach’s spirit sure will brighten up our company. I just hope we won’t wake up to the actual hellfire.

Lae’zel – The gith looks like a tough fighter. But don’t expect me to go on errands for her.

4. What sort of general actions raise or lower their approval?

Raise:

Empathy and Compassion towards weaker or struggling.

Supporting freedom, autonomy and choices that align with his desire to break free from societal expectations.

Sharing a sarcastic sense of humor can lead to a bond with him, as he appreciates this attitude. Engaging in witty banter and humor is a plus.

Illegal activities aimed at helping others.

Lower:

Disregarding or belittling others' struggles or doubts, particularly in moments of their vulnerability, resonating with his own past of self-doubt and anxiety.

Yielding to controlling individuals or behaving subserviently in the face of authority.

Aggression towards the weak.

5. Are there any instances where your Tav can permanently leave the party, depending on player character actions?

The first instance is tied to letting Minthara join a party (murdering of tieflings would significantly lower Arno’s approval, but letting Minthara join the party would be the point of conflict, in which Arno will go a separate path).

The second instance would be tied to possible betrayal, around end of Act 2 – a group of drow agents, which would represent the house Rilynghym (Arno’s family), will ambush the party. They are tasked with bringing Arno back home, as well as extracting Githyanki prism.

Depending on the level of approval, the player can persuade Arno to go about this peacefully (understand that there was more at stake and they needed the Gith’s prism), persuade Arno to attack the spies or Arno will turn his back on the group altogether.

6. Do they have any secrets that can be revealed? What are the prerequisites for this secret coming to light?

The Player would find out in Camp that Arno has partial amnesia, and remembers some parts of his childhood and his family, but not the last 3 months since he left home. As the adventure progresses, he’ll start to remember more and more, as well as start having a repeating blurry dream of his mother calling out to him, but he would understand any of her words.

As the game progresses, he would remember that his house (a drow house Rilynghym, that settled on the surface, in Neverwinter), that specializes in espionage and infiltration, sent their agents to infiltrate the cult of the Absolut and acquired information about some sort of artefact. The spies disappeared in Baldur's Gate, and as Nathiira received the news, Arno (who wanted to finally prove to his mother that he is worthy of her trust and can help the house on an equal footing with everyone else) suggested that he could investigate the matter. This provoked the conflict between mother and son, which ended in Arno being put in a cell. He escaped the imprisonment and ventured to Baldur’s Gate on his own.

In Baldur's Gate, Arno found out that the spies were supposed to steal a specific artefact for their house, but they were discovered by the cultists and taken as prisoners. All but one.

The spy, named Tsabran, a loyal servant of Matron Nathiira, managed to avoid the cultists and got in touch with Arno, telling him everything that happened. He explained that the spies, were trying to steal an artefact of incredible power created by the cultists. However, their hideout was discovered, and the cultists caught all the spies except Tsabran.

The artefact was supposed to have a power of a mini-version Elderbrain, allowing its wielder to enhance telepathic influence on intelligent creatures, and even subdue large groups of creatures to their will. It had to work in the hands of those who have psionic abilities, enhancing them tenfold. (Note: the artefact can unlock the ending, where instead of someone becoming an illithid, Arno will use the artefact and his own psychic skills to suppress Elderbrain) Together, Tsabran and Arno devised a plan to steal the artefact and bring it back to Matron Nathiira. They managed to get to the room with the artefact through secret tunnels. However, before Arno could check the artefact for traps, Tsabran lifted it off the pedestal and thus activated the alarm. The two had to flee, but Arno was wounded during the escape. He hoped for help from Tsabran, but the latter left him behind, running away with the artefact. That's how the cultists captured Arno.

7. Do they have their own personal quest that spans the course of the game? Can it take different branching paths depending on the choices the Player Character makes?

Arno’s personal quest would be focused on him slowly regaining his memories of past months, and in the process fighting the memories of emotional abuse and neglect from his mother, that led to his anxiety and feeling of never being enough. As he would regain memories he would have more and more doubts, if chasing after mother’s approval is really what he wants from life, especially if it goes against his moral code.

Player can help him find confidence in himself, support his attempts to make his own decisions in spite of what was drilled into his head for decades (and became part of his sub-conscious behavior; for example him having a sweet tooth but denying himself any sweet food due to previous prohibitions from his mother)

Alternatively, Player can insist on the notion, that Arno’s mother was right, that he wasn’t ready for any sort of adventure like this, and specifically his lack of skills, patience and knowledge were the reason of his troubles. That Arno’s mother only tried to protect him and their house, to give them a better life.

Toward the end of Act 2, MC with Arno is ambushed by members of House Rilynghym, who were sent by Nathiira to bring Arno home, as well as retrieve Gith's prism with him (when asked, the spies would answer that Nathiira found out about the prism and its influence through telepathic connection with Arno).

At that moment, Arno will remember the captured spies in Baldur's Gate and tell the newcomers that the situation has become much more important and dangerous than possessing some artefacts and gaining more power for their house.

Depending on the Player's actions and the level of approval with Arno, the situation will go in different directions:

Arno confidently tells the spies to go back home, because the existence of the cult threatens their house as well.

Arno and the Player fight the spies to keep the prism. Arno does not approve of this, but is persuaded by the Player to fight on their side.

Arno joins the spies, having more faith in his mother's judgment. He and the spies will die in the battle.

In 3rd act, as the group reaches the Baldur's Gate, during one of the nights, Arno’s mother will get in touch with him via telepathic projection – all of the companions infected with the tadpole will see and hear her as well, as part of their shared connection. She will say that she is very disappointed that he did not return with the spies when he had the opportunity.

Nathiira says “I've been very patient, considering your completely stupid and irresponsible behavior. Go back home, now.” Аrno exhaled, nervously gesturing towards his mother “Can't you listen to me for once? I'm trying to explain, that what's happening in Baldur's Gate is a threat to the entire region. And our family, too.” There is a tense pause. As Nathiira looks at him with her familiar calculating look, Arno looks down, slightly lowering his head as well “Just, listen. I can't just leave, not with this... thing in my head. So I can look for Tsabran and the artifact. Show you that I can do this.” Nathiira is silent for a few moments, closely looking at her son before finally exhaling: “You won't just drop this, would you? Fine. This is your task now. The last time Tsabran sent us a message, he mentioned that he was hiding somewhere deep and wet.” Arno breathes a sigh of relief and Nathiira speaks again: “Arnafein” there is a long pause, where she considers what to say before finally settling on her choice “Don't let me down.”

The group will go in search of Tsabran in the underground part of the city.

When the group finds Tsabran, it turns out that the artifact has begun to negatively affect his mind, making him more neurotic, full of paranoia and hallucinations. Because he was not a psionist himself, the artifact could not find enough power in his mind and his brain literally began to melt from it.

At that moment, Tsabran was obsessed only with the idea that he was the one who had to deliver the artifact to Matrona and receive her recognition and gratitude. The group had fight to get the artifact. In battle with Tsabran, he’ll have control over some civilians and creatures from sewers, all while screaming about how he will prove the Matron his loyalty and usefulness. Arno will recognize some of the civilians from the 1st day they entered Baldur’s Gate.

As Arno defeats Tsabran and takes the artifact, the telepathic projection of Nathiira appears, noting that she felt the artifact’s power through their connection.

The projection of Nathiira comes closer, with fascination looking at the artifact “Incredible isn’t it? Imagine how much influence we might gain with this in our hands. No-one will ever dare to even think of harming our house ever again.” Arno shakes his head “Mother this artifact won’t bring us any good. It breaks people, strips them of their will, it’s not-” Nathiira interrupts him “It’s exactly what we need to survive, Arnafein. This will finally give us the protection we needed. Any politician, any noble, any rival of ours now can be brought under our control. They won’t be harmed, they just won’t think about harming us” Arno exclaims “It will harm them, mother, this is exactly what taking away freedom of their mind is!” Nathiira huffs and waving him away with a hand “Oh, don’t be such a child, they will be fine! It’s better than getting rid of them all-together.” After a moment, she adds, more steel in her voice “You wanted to prove yourself to me. This is your chance. Do as I say - bring us the artifact.”

Depending on Players choice, Arnafein either will agree to bring the artefact home or will say that he’ll give the artifact to the Harpers for protection.

Choice “Arnafein agreed to bring the artefact home”

Arno closed his eyes, battling with his own doubts in his head. But moments later his shoulder sagged down, and he bows his head and finally said “As you say, Matron.” Nathiira looks pleased, relaxed. “Good. I’m glad you saw reason. Now, our agents should be nearby...” Arnafein raises his head slightly, looking at his mother with confusion “What? I... I thought you sent only me.” Nathiira patiently sighs “They were here just in case, to assure that the mission was successful. Don’t think too much about it - it was still all you. And our people will know it as such.” After a pause she continues “Now, I won’t take anymore of your time, the faster the artifact will be brought here, the better. Go.” With a slight pause, Arnafein bows, and Nathiira calls for him one last time. “And Arnafein. I’m proud of you, son.” As the group exits the chamber where they battled Tsabran, the spies meet them right at the exit. One of the agents steps forward “Sir, we’ve just received the message from Matron - we’re at your service. If you’ll need our assistance in upcoming battle, you can count on us ” Arno absentmindedly nods “Good. Make sure that the artifact is delivered as fast as possible to Neverwinter” and he gives the artifact to the agents before adding with more presence “As for everything else - I will call if you are needed.”

Choice “Arnafein refused to bring the artefact back home”

Arno closed his eyes, frowning, battling with his own doubts in his head. But moments later he takes a deep breath and looks up at his mother. “I’m sorry, I won’t do this. This is not our way. I will give the artifact to Harpers and they’ll make sure no-one gets harmed anymore because of it” Nathiira looks at him for a long moment, her jaws clenched, her eyes hard and cold. “Just as I thought. You would pass on a golden opportunity to put our house out danger forever, just so you can play a hero.” She steps forward, her telepathic projection getting right in the face of Arno, before she sneers. “You are not a hero. You’re just an arrogant, naive child, who thinks he knows better than everyone else.” She continues looking at him, as Arno meets her stare with his own sudden resolution. Nathiira spits out “Well you don’t.” She takes a step back, turning away from Arnafein and adding, “We'll have a long talk about it when you get home” Arnafein let’s a moment pass, before, with deep sadness saying “No. I don’t think we will” As Nathiira stops and turns back to him, Arno raises his hand and her eyes widen in understanding and shock. Arno sliced the air with his hand and permanently severed their family telepathic connection. As the group exits the chamber where they battled Tsabran, the spies meet them right at the exit. Arno, not expecting to see them, will take a step back before asking “What- What are you doing here?” One of the agents steps forward, slightly bowing his head. “Sir. The Matron ordered us to keep an eye on you and intervene in case of imminent danger to your life” Arno dumbly looks at him, repeating his words “Keep an eye? Aha. Hahaha” He bitterly laughs, rubbing his hand over his face “she didn’t even... Of course she didn’t.” As Arno says with utter betrayal and disappointment he once again turns to bewildered agent, and says “Well, as you see I’m fine and dandy, so you can return home and report as such” The agents exchange glances, before with a doubt in a voice one of them says “Sir, we were also told to retrieve the artifact” Player can choose what to do - “Let Arno handle this” - (Deception) The artifact was destroyed by Tsabran in the battle. - (Intimidation) The artifact stays with us, want it or not. In case of failure or letting Arno handle this, Arno will say: “There was... a change of plans. Matron knows of this, so you’re in the clear. Return home, agents”

8. What do they say when the Player Character asks them to stay in camp? How about when the Player Character asks them to come adventuring again?

Stay in camp – “You sure? I might hear the danger coming from miles away. Well, the thoughts of danger, more precise.” And after confirmation “Well, suit yourself.”

Come adventuring again – “Knew you’d come around”

9. Does your Tav have any escalating conflicts with one of the other companions, like Lae’zel and Shadowheart’s knife-fight?

No.

10. Are there any unique NPCs associated with your Tav that can show up during the course of the game?

In act 3 in Elfsong Tavern the group can meet Arno’s older sister Maliara, which would be trying to draw as little attention as possible. She’ll tell Arno that she and their uncle went behind mothers back and their uncle made a deal with Lorroakan to open a portal from Neverwinter to Baldur’s Gate and allow Maliara passage to the city. Maliara will try to persuade Arno to return home with her (depending on the previous encounter with the spies Arno’s reaction to this would differ, but he will say that he can’t return yet – not with the danger of Absolute cult behind their backs). Maliara would be gentle with her words, but also vocal about her worries for her brother, even going as far as offering her help in this whole quest, despite Arno’s own worry for her. If the Player invites her to join Camp, she’ll become a permanent addition to it, as an Artificer (trading different alchemical supplies).

11. Are there any moments in the game that trigger unique dialogue for your character? (Like Gale’s anecdote about the barfight after you save the goblin prisoner)

In Moonrise Towers, while looking at some of the battle and floor plans of Shadowcursed lands, Arno will recognize them. “We’ve had this floor plans for months before the spies went missing...” “My house knew about the inner dealing of the cult. And told no-one. How many people we could have saved if we just warned, I don’t know, the Harpers or the city governments. Instead we were chasing after some stupid artifacts.”

In act 2, when meeting gnolls and other creatures mind-controlled by the other cultists, Arno will express his genuine disgust for this, saying that no-one should go through such violation of autonomy. He might recall going through the same thing, when he was still little and some slavers tried to abduct him and his sister, and how terrified he was over losing control of his body.

Story Specific

1.How does your Tav advise the player character when it comes to the Dream Visitor?

“I can see the advantage we’ll have with these powers, but you always have to pay the piper. And our friend does sound like a skilled musician. Let’s just be careful with the help they are providing.”

2. How do they advise the player character on Raphael?

“One blink – and there goes your freedom in those clawed hands. Not even one story has a happy-ending when it comes to deals with the devil. I don’t think we’ll be the exception to the rule, so let’s not gamble with our lives more than we already do.”

3. How do they react to Astarion biting the Player Character?

“Huh, well that explains all those thought-wishing about having a taste…” “I have no problem with him staying, as long as he remembers his manners”

4. How do they react to the Player Character letting Abdirak whip them?

“That’s um… An interesting… View. Right”

5. How do they react to the Player Character taking their first tadpole power?

“You know, when I said “be careful but curious” I really had more emphasis on the careful part. Although, you seem alright… at least for now. Just give me some heads up next time, I might prepare the knife just in case.”

6. Will they stay with the Player Character regardless of siding with the goblins or the tieflings, or is it possible for them to leave the party permanently?

Arno will stay with Player if they side with Goblins, but he’ll strongly disapprove of this.

7. What can they be found doing at the tiefling/goblin party?

On tiefling’s party: He’ll be staying near Mol, bouncing back and forth with her ideas regarding how to get the most profit from drunk adults (“They leave a lot of their belongings unattended, who’s to say you won’t be the one to find them and be oh-so-kind to return them for a small price for such lost-and-found services.”). The reason for that is partially due Arno wanting to be a bit far away from so many drunk people, as his head starts to be in huge pain from all of their thoughts.

On goblin’s party: He’ll be staying very far away from any possible party participants, possibly in the shade of the trees, closed off and gloomy. When approached, he’ll say that he hopes the lives of all those innocents were worth this “blast of a party” and that this arrangement better pay off with finding the cure. If questioned by the Player further, Arno would admit that there is someone back home who came up in his memories – two small tiefling kids with dark skin, his sister’s kids. He’ll lament that he can’t stop imagining all those slayed kids in the grove as his nephews.

8. Do they have comments on who the Player Character chooses to spend the night with?

Gale – I see you have your hands full of our local wizard. I’m sure you’ll sleep soundly after his lectures.

Shadowheart – Hopefully we won’t find your cold and lifeless body somewhere in the ditch tomorrow. Jokes aside – do have a wonderful night, I’m sure Shadowheart will leave her poisons for more desirable targets.

Astarion – Astarion is… A spicy choice. I honestly hope I will be far enough to enjoy a quiet night without playing a witness to any… lewd thoughts. Or bloody ones, pick your poison.

Wyll – Seems like our local monster hunter already took your attention.

Karlach – Well someone’s in for a warm night. I just hope you’ll be responsible and all of that stuff and won’t burn our camp in flames of accidental passion.

Lae’zel – You sure do have interesting taste in company. Hopefully, we’ll see you in one piece tomorrow – otherwise, don’t expect me trying to avenge you.

9. Do they have unique dialogue if the Player Character lets them die when they steal the Blood of Lathander?

10. How do they react if the PC licks the dead spider in the Gauntlet of Shar?

1st time. No. No-no-no, stop thinking that, stop.

2nd time. Oh for gods sake… Is it only the “Underdark knowledge” to not lick the damn spiders?

11. What do they say if the PC tries to force them to go up on stage with Dribbles the Clown?

1st time “Ha-ha, what a wonderful idea (telepathically “don’t you fucking dare”)”

2nd time “Right, on stage. Dreamed of this all my life (telepathically “you better sleep with your eyes open from now on”)”

12. Is it possible for your Tav to be kidnapped and replaced by Orin? How is Orin's deception revealed?

13. How do they react to the PC either allowing Astarion to ascend or convincing him to spare the 7000 spawn?

Astarion ascends – “So… He did it. Looks quite pleased too. I don’t know why, but it makes so … angry. He did break from his Masters control, found his ultimate freedom but it all feels so wrong… I just hope this finally brought him the life he desired”

Astarion remains a spawn and spares the 7000 spawn – “I don’t think I saw Astarion that sincerely happy and relaxed, like, ever. It suits him. Do you think he would appreciate congratulations? Or am I “biting off” too much with it? Oh yes, that one is perfect for teasing.”

14. How does Tav react to the PC becoming a mind flayer? Can they offer to become one themselves? Does their reaction change if they’re romanced?

If not romanced – Arno would be saddened, but thankful towards the Player, accepting this as a necessary sacrifice.

If romanced – still saddened, but determined that he’ll stay by your side no matter what, as you were there for him, and he’ll do the same for you.

He will not offer to become a mindflayer.

15. How do they react when the Dark Urge first reveals their amnesia and murderous thoughts to them?

“Huh. Well I can calm you down a bit, as amnesia seems to be something the two of us share. Can’t say the same about a bit of… murder? Anyway, I’m sure there will be plenty of enemies to release your murderous tendencies on.”

16. How do they react to the Dark Urge killing Alfira?

“Now. I don’t even need to be a mind reader to figure out what happened. Another question is why? And you better start explaining now.”

After explanation.

“Well. Let’s pretend we’re friends again – but from further distance.”

17. If romanced, how do they react to the Dark Urge trying to kill them in Act 2?

When woken up – “Hm? Someone’s in mood for a cuddle?” “Although I do sense a bit more tension in you, than usual, love. Are you alright?”

After confessing to what’s happening – “Oh dear, I knew we should have tried reading your memories… Hey, look at me, it will be alright. Whatever it is, you’re so much stronger”

Trying to help the bounded Player “Focus, dear, listen to my voice – (telepathically) “you can overcome this. I won’t let you fall””

“Save the gratitude and focus. I’ll have your back no matter what.”

Romance

1.Is your Tav a romanceable character? Are there any specific requirements to romancing them?

Yes.

2. Does your Tav need to be flirted with to start the romance, or will they approach the PC themselves if approval is high enough?

Arno needs to be flirted with to start a romance.

3. Are they a polyamorous or a monogamous option?

Can go Poly

4. Do they have a special romance scene at the tiefling/goblin party?

Yes (note: romance scene would be only on tiefling party). Arno would ask the Player to join him after party for “little rendezvous”. After everyone goes to sleep, they’ll meet on deserted part of the river shore, where Arno prepared a small place for them with blanket, wine remains and some light food. As Player comes closer to Arno, who is using his much more controlled than before telekinesis to skipping stones across the water, Arno would turn to them:

“Much quieter here, isn’t it?”. He’ll throw another stone without his telekinesis.

Player either can

Try throwing a stone themselves (success / fail) – “You’re full of hidden talents / Not as easy as fighting, yeah?”

Comment that they preferred the lively atmosphere of the party – “Oh nooo, we have a party-goer among us. Horrific.”

Simply agree with Arno. – “A kindred spirit”

Afterwards Arno invites them to sit. As they sit, Arno starts talking:

“I “borrowed” some wine from Mol – thought I’d indulge myself, but then thought better of it. Don’t want to create another telepathic mess with so many drunk bodies around.”

Player could try to persuade Arno to share a drink with them, drink themselves or ask about him if that was his reason to stay away from the party (“Well yes and no. It’s good to be part of celebration, but I generally enjoy not being in the spotlight”)

Arno’ll continue:

“When I found this place, I remembered how when I would be overwhelmed I would leave our family house and spend some time near water, just skipping stones. Helped me focus quite a bit. Silly, but I thought I’d help me remember something from past months. Some name, or a place or… something. But there is nothing”

Player can

Ask them about what they actually remember - (and Arno will suggest to share images from his past, where he stays in large room, near a table covered in maps and plans, listening to some women (his mother) giving orders regarding something), and afterwards comment - “Huh. Not as painful this time”

Reassure them it will come back with time - “Perhaps. Never been good with waiting, but I suppose I don’t have a choice”

Say they might never come back. - “True. Can’t say it brings me any comfort”

“I don’t know what will awaits us in the future. But right now, I’m glad to have “this” in my memories.” And then he would hastily add “I mean, this, your general company. And others of course”

Player say to shut up and enjoy the moment, or that the sentiment is mutual, in which case Arno will nervously laugh, saying “Yup, ok, good, I’m shutting up”

After which they’ll spent the quiet night observing the river water.

5. Does the romance have different branching paths, or just one route to take?

There are a few different paths, depending on how his personal quest will progress.

6. How do they react to the player character breaking up with them, or choosing another character over them?

He’ll let a small “Oh” and take a step back, as if slapped, lost for words for a couple of seconds. After which, he’ll try to start talking, with a bit of cheer to his tone at the beginning “Well that was…expected. Though I thought we had more time.” After a pause “Can I ask if there was any specific reason?”

As Player confirms, Arno will say “Well. I will cherish our memories together all the same. Thank you, for giving it to me”.

7. What questions can Zethino ask the PC about Tav in the Love Test?

What brings Arno the most comfort?

What future does he see for himself?

What brings his heart the most pain?

8. If they’re poly, do they have a reaction to the PC engaging in a relationship with Halsin?

“Well that’s definitely one of the times when I’m glad I wasn’t snooping around in someone’s thoughts.” He’ll laugh, but with some discomfort and turn his sight downwards. “I mean, if this is really something you’re interested in… Halsin is definitely a catch, with all that gigantic wall of muscle and natures passion. Can’t judge you for desiring that.” And after a pause. “Although I must ask – does it have anything to do with us?... with me, more specifically? Did I do… or didn’t do something?” After assurance from Player that everything was alright. “Ok, ok, good to hear” “Well, in that case go right ahead. Just please return to me in one piece after all that throwing around and riding and … Ok I’m shutting up.”

9. How do they react if the PC has sex with Mizora? The Emperor? Haarlep?

Mizora – carefully curious, might ask to share the memories with him via link.

The Emperor – disgusted, when he tries to connect with you telepathically he winces and says “let’s just never speak of it. Never”

Haarlep – Arno would check up on Player, ask is they are alright and if they just need silent company and support – he’ll be there for them.

10. Will they join in with the PC and the Drow Twins, or no?

No. Arno will be feeling very uncomfortable in the brothel, due to remembering that his mother had to work in a brothel in Amn in the past just to provide him and his sister with some roof over their heads, and was treated poorly by the customers.

11. What are Tav’s plans for the future? Do they propose to the PC, or is marriage not something they’re interested in?

Depending on how his personal quest developed, Arno would:

Travel back to Neverwinter to become a spy on a permanent basis, always under his mother's control (no matter how many unacceptable things he had to do), helping her take direct control of minds of the nobility and small gangs of the Neverwinter region.

Travel back to Neverwinter and agree with his mother’s plan for him to settle down for a quiet, though unhappy, aristocratic life. He’ll become the public face of the house Rilynghym, but will always feel out of place.

Travel the world and build his own name by helping those in need and captivity.

Stay in Baldur's Gate, help rebuild the city and become the city's protector.

Organize his own web of spies that investigated and sabotaged authoritarian regimes and tyrants.

12. Free space! Share anything from your companion!Tav au!

Arno has nearly perfect visual memory, that helped him memories many maps and images (such as his family tattoos, that he tattooed his skin with after leaving home)

He’ll occasionally would lose control of his psychic powers (that are going sideways due to tadpoles influence) when heavily focusing on something which would lead to him extending his telepathy on others and accidentally sharing his thought with them, or start telekinetically levitate things or even small/medium creatures around him.

In 2nd scene of the romance he’ll suggest to the Player to use their psychic connection and would strengthen it to the point, where they both would clearly feel each other’s emotions and touches as if they were their own.

He would joke to hide his nervousness or uncertainty.

During conversation with MC, Arno will recall good moments from his childhood. How he was raised most of the time by his older sister Maliara and sometimes by his uncle (a psychic wizard). He will recall how, as a child, when all the adults would leave them and go out to find them food/any money, Arno and Malia would sit on the roofs of houses together, watching the sunrise or sunset and getting used to the burning sensation it left on their eyes.

If questioned, Arno will tell about his family, how all of them are psionists, with special gifts in telepathy and telekinesis. He’ll tell about his uncle, a Neverwinter wizard who could raise a whole house with only his thought. His sister, who is a talented artificer, working on different kinds of living blobs and explosive concoctions. And about his mother, who learned how to influence others and even bend them to her will, though temporarily.

Arno tells there were very little privacy in their house, as their mother wanted to know everything that was going on. If the MC says that’s messed up, he’ll say “Yeah? I never really thought about it that way, I mean - it was typical for us. We kinda were used to it.” He’ll apologize for snooping in others thoughts, as it comes easier to him than to others. Growing up in a household where your every thought was scrutinized and corrected by his mother did give him an impression, that it was alright with everyone else.

If questioned, Arno will tell that he actually has a sweet tooth, but he was forbidden to eat any sweets or sweet fruits at home. He’ll jokingly recall one scene from his childhood:

"I was really upset over some argument with my mom and as always, when I was like this, my sister Malia, came around and brought a whole basket of peaches. I have no idea where she found them, but we spent the whole evening munching on them until we were sick. Then mom returned home, and we kinda missed that. So when we heard her going upstairs to our room, we panicked and hid al peach pits in the plant pot we had in the room.” He laughs. “It took my mom years, before she noticed a peach tree in the room. She was really pissed.”

Despite his difficult and emotionally charged relationships with mother, he really cares for her and genuinely loves her, his older sister and uncle, feeling deep connection to them, that extends even over their telepathic abilities. Arno often finds it difficult to go directly against someone's opinion and generally tries to please others (unless it is in strong conflict with his moral principles of freedom and helping others). He often doubts if his own decisions, but is sincerely grateful when asked about his opinion or help.

The final scene for their personal quest, depending on the outcomes:

If Arno declined to bring artefact home:

Arnafein is sitting on the roof of the inn. The sky is slowly brightening, preparing for the dawn. MC comes closer behind him, and Arno slightly turns his head to their side, nodding his head towards free space near him with a small smile. MC sits; there is a moment of silence.

Player:

*Stay silent.* - Arno sighs "I thought this would be easier..."

"Are you alright?" - Arno "Yes. Just been thinking."

"Cozy place" - Arno smiles "Good for clearing head after messy day"

Arno continues "I breathe more freely than I did in decades. Actually feel like I can go anywhere and there won't be even a fleeting feeling of a leash around my throat. I'm happy." He pauses, his smile turning sour. "I just hoped mom would be happy for me too."

Player:

"Maybe she'll come around" - Arno "You sound like Malia. Maybe you both are right."

"She made her choice, you made yours" - Arno "True. I suppose I wasn't expecting the consequences of my choice to sting so much."

"Seems like she only wanted to control you" - Arno "I think there was love too. Just, her own version of it."

"It's just. We had bad days. But we had good too. I hoped... that good ones mattered more. That deep down she trusted me and was happy for me to find my own path. But she never planned to, has she?"

Player:

"I'm sorry" - Arno "Don't be. You showed me there is more to life than chasing after someone's approval."

*Hug him* - Arno let’s himself be embraces "Thank you. For everything."

"She might have want to, but was too afraid to lose you" - Arno "Perhaps. But I can't sit and wait for her understanding anymore"

"I found my path. With my choices. And my damned consequences."

(If romanced)

He turns to MC, laying hand on their hand.

"There will be bad days. But there will be good days too. And I hope I'll meet them with you - with all of the terrible choices and consequences that entails."

Player:

"Terrible choices, huh?" - Arno smiles "Absolutely wicked"

"Likewise" - Arno smiles "Good to hear we're on the same page"

He kisses the MC, laying hand on their cheek. Kiss will be meek at first, turning more passionate by the second, before they break from each other, grasping for air. Both brightly smiling, and gently grasping each others hand.

"Maybe that's a bit too early to say" - Arno "Well, we have all the time in the world to think on it. And make our own, considered choices."

And as so, the sun starts to rise, basking them in the dawn light.

If Arno agreed to give artefact to agents and bring to mother:

Arno sits on the bench in the outdoor alcove, shielded from the night and people. As MC comes closer they can see, that Arno uses his psionic powers to fully control rats before him.

Arno absentmindedly says "These ones easy to control. It won't be as easy with smarter creatures..."

Player:

"With more time you’ll get a hand of it." - Arno wryly smiled "Yeah, practice is the base of mastery."

"You ok with bending creatures to your will now?" - Arno "My mother wants me to. She thinks it will be useful, back at home."

"You seem troubled." - Arno "This... Is not the most pleasant thing for me. But I’ll get used to it."

"We have a saying back at home... Ilharess zhaun alurl. Matron knows best. For so long I've been trying to get her approval, to make her see me as an adult, not a child. Yet I continued to behave like one."

He makes the rats stand still, in attention. "But I know better now. I know to trust in my mother's judgment."

Player:

"And you'll be content with that?" - Arno "I have to. I will be."

"She seems to know what she's doing" - Arno "She always did, I was just too stubborn to see that myself."

"And what if she'll be wrong?" - Arno "No-one is perfect. But to survive, one needs to trust and obey their leader."

"Ahh look at me, overthinking stuff again."

He let's go of the rats, making then scatter around. "I didn't actually want to... burden you with my stupid troubles."

Player:

"It wasn't an issue at all." - Arno "But it was. It wasn't your problem to solve."

"Yeah, too late for that." - Arno laughs "True, and yet..."

"You were quite whiny sometimes." - Arno "And I apologize for that, as I’ve said it wasn’t your troubles to deal with, so I’ve been unfair."

"What I'm trying to say is... Thank you. To be of use to my house and mother. To be worthy of being her son. I have it - all thanks to you."

(if romanced) He'll lean his head against the MC, trying to kiss them but then will flinch and nervously laugh.

"Well, ok, she, uh... Seems like that will have to wait for later times."

Player:

"Is your mother still in connection with you?" - Arno "Comes with growing up in family of telepaths."

"Wait, what, who?" - Arno "My mother. Still checking in on me and not really approving something... intimate. Ruins the mood a bit."

"Well that's awkward..." - Arno nervously laughs "Yeah, you tell me"

"We can just. Stay here then. Together."

And they stay sitting there in the night.

#bg3 tav #bg3 spoilers #baldurs gate tav #drow #bg3 oc #bg3 #arnafein #oc

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liltaz-asatreat · 1 year

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I just realized something!!!

So, at the end of The Suffering Game, right before they go up on the catwalk, I always found it an interesting character choice that Justin made to make Taako fight Magnus so hard about him going up on the catwalk to strut. Him allowing himself to be vulnerable and admit to being scared aside, I didn't really Get why Taako would fight so hard about this One Thing when this seemed like it should have been right up his alley.

Like, in the very beginning, he couldn't offer up his resume to Lydia and Edward fast enough after seeing them strut and perform down the runway, and before that, he was a showman, and basically his whole identity was shaped around that. Acting confident and showing off is pretty sufficiently baked into his DNA.

I thought at first it was because of the general shit day he was having being stuck in Wonderland and all that, and maybe this had been one of the worst days of his life that he could remember, but still like, he's had really shit days before. And in none of those days have we seen or heard of him backing down from a chance to perform, an act that also boosts his self confidence when he really isn't feeling it. And throughout Wonderland, no matter what the liches threw at him, even being almost killed by that machine, he didn't fight them or anyone about doing anything. He did what he was asked, bitching about it sometimes maybe, but he didn't even take a penalty at the wheel like Magnus and Merle did. I also thought maybe this was just the breaking point? That he was tired of doing what he was told that he really didn't want to do and would hurt him in some way just for the liches' entertainment?

And maybe that's all true, but then I remembered the last thing they took from him at the wheel: Taako's beauty.

This happened maybe 15 minutes before they approached the catwalk, considering they only went a few rounds in combat in the boss rush room, and each round of combat lasts 6 seconds, so losing that is still raw and fresh on his mind. Sure, he put up the illusion spell, and he didn't physically feel any change, but just knowing that he did change in some way and that he didn't have access to a reflective surface to see for himself what damage had been done had to have dealt a huge blow to his self confidence and his sense of identity. If he's not the most beautiful elf to ever grace the planet anymore, who is he?

He's a wizard. And a chef. But there are plenty of wizards and chefs out there. What set him apart was that not only was he the best at both, but his looks ensured everyone would love him.

Not to mention he only started to regain the chef identity back only a few months previous after the Chalice showed him he wasn't the one who poisoned Glamour Springs.

He wasn't feeling vulnerable enough to admit to being scared and fight about going up on the catwalk because of the liches. He was scared because he didn't know who he was anymore, and the idea of trying to act the same with only the flimsy veil of his illusion magic hiding who he truly is, a person, mind you, he still has not seem for himself yet, is terrifying and insulting. What if he can't put on a good enough show? What if everyone can see through his facade and hates him? He was already a fraud-show-chef-recently-turned-out-to-not-be-a-fraud-actually, and now he has to act like he isn't a fraud show personality in front of the people who already know the truth?

And Magnus could see what he really looks like now, and he's acting like everything is fine???

His whole world got upended yet again, and sure, Magnus and Merle are close enough to him again for him to feel like he can be a little honest with them, but that doesn't stop him from feeling incredulous with what Magnus is asking him to do.

He's just a wizard now. Maybe can reclaim the identity of a chef. And those two out of three main pillars of his former identity never felt so small.

#taz #taz balance #taz taako #taako #the suffering game

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honest-moth-of-silver-grove · 3 months

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Hello! I was wondering if you could please write up a BG3 headcanon request involving Halsin, Wyll, Astarion and Gale? How would they react to/take care of their Tav who has an alcohol or drug addiction?

A/N: Aw, man, do I feel this ask. Sometimes I like to joke that I come from a long line of alcoholics, because, well, I do. But it’s usually me trying to put some levity into serious family discussions. I don’t think a lot of people understand that addiction is a physiological illness: it’s a full-body response, not a case of “mind over matter” as some people like to say. There’s such a stigma and it sucks because research shows that when we respond kindly, and not with punishment or ostracization, that’s when addicts have a higher chance of recovery. So know that while I am no expert on addiction, I did try my best to be respectful and accurate. I hope you enjoy!

TW: Addiction, Alcoholism

BG3 Male Companions Taking Care of Tav Who Battles Alcoholism/Addiction

Astarion:

In a way, Astarion is kind of an addict himself. He’s a vampire, spawn, or ascendant, he needs blood for energy. He can go for extended times without it, but those times have been tortuous and caused lasting mental and emotional damage. That eternal need hanging over his head coupled with the impact of Cazador’s abuse has permanently re-wired his brain. Astarion doesn’t react like the average elf, he can’t, not anymore.

So when it comes to altered brain chemistry, Astarion’s certainly no stranger. Although his addiction lies more within the supernatural, he can use his own experience to relate to Tav’s more pedestrian affliction.

Astarion won’t ever outright deny Tav something. If Tav asks for a drink or a drug, Asation won’t take it upon himself to literally hold Tav down as a means of keeping them from consuming it. Astarion knows that method won’t work in the long run, and would most likely only result in Tav resenting him, and he can’t have that.

Astarion will make a face or two, however, his expression switches from concerned to slightly judgemental depending on the context. He wants Tav to be aware of his opinion, but he doesn't want to smother them. Tav’s not a child, Astarion isn’t responsible for them.

Still, thanks to his concern, I do think Astarion would confront them about it. He’d need to speak to Tav to hear for himself precisely what's going on. If Tav is still in their denial phase, Astarion tries hard to get them out of it. There’s no use trying to help someone who refuses to acknowledge they have an issue. Astarion knows, so he understands the shame that comes with it. But he reminds Tav he did eventually come clean about being a vampire, and about his past with Cazador, so now it’s Tav’s turn to do the same.

Once Tav is open about their struggles, Astarion makes a point to check in with them throughout the day. He’ll nonchalantly provide Tav with alternatives to drink: water or tea, things that aren’t ale, and wine. He’ll be subtle about it though. Astarion will never act as if he’s going out of his way to do Tav a favor. No, it’s not like that, he swears! It just so happens Gale was asking for tea and Astarion thought he’d go make him some seeing as how sad and pathetic the wizards had been acting over losing his goddess, and Astarion thought, well, perhaps Tav would like some as well.

The most difficult part for Astarion is witnessing Tav endure withdrawal. It’s a horrible, painful process. If Astarion didn’t know any better, he’d say the whole thing looked a lot like being killed and then brought back from the dead. He still remembers the way his body ached and burned and hungered upon Cazador turning him into a vampire. It may have been two hundred years but nothing could ever make him forget that pain. It’s why Astarion wishes, more than anything, that he could alleviate such agony for Tav.

If Astarion remains a spawn, there’s nothing he can do but hold Tav close, dab their forehead with a cool cloth, and whisper soft words of comfort into their ear. ‘You will be alright, darling. Even this will pass.’

If Astarion has become a vampire ascendant, however, he can make Tav a vampire, if that is something Tav chooses. This isn’t a magic fix, however. While there’s a possibility Tav may no longer have the addictions they did as a vampire that they did as a human, there’s no guarantee that hunger will not carry over. Should it carry over, Tav would then be forced to be content with those previous addictions in addition to their newfound bloodlust. It’s a risk. But even if there’s a small chance it could work, Astarion proposes the idea to Tav. Ascendant Astarion would still find it preferable for Tav to be an addict as a spawn, as it makes it incredibly easy for him to control Tav’s actions. Sure, they may still be addicted, but without Astarion’s permission, they can’t take what they want when they want. It would create tension and a fair degree of hostility between the two. But Astarion the Vampire Ascendent believes an angry, vampire-spawn Tav to be superior to a happy dead one.

And of course, no matter whether he’s a spawn or ascended Astarion makes a point that despite Tav’s addiction, he’s not going anywhere. If Tav falls off the wagon again, or if they’re not ready to try and face their addiction right now, Astarion will remain at their side, waiting for the day they’re ready to try again. ‘I’m not going anywhere my love. I can promise you that.’

Gale:

Gale’s first response, of course, is to try and determine a way to solve this problem via magical means. Now as a wizard, he doesn’t have access to the kinds of healing spells druids and clerics have. But, he does a fair amount of arcane knowledge about enchantments, and curses. And well, what is addiction if not a natural, biological enchantment? Gale considers himself fairly rounded on the subject of human biology as well, so Tav is in for a bit of an earful if and when they first admit their affliction to him.

Gale may not have experience with the kinds of addiction Tav is, but thanks to his experiments with Weave, and now having been cursed with the orb, Gale knows the urgency of living under a constant ticking clock. If he cannot consume the magic from magical artifacts, if the orb is not sated with bits of the Weave on occasion, he risks blowing up everyone for miles.

In some ways, this makes Gale’s “addiction” all the more dangerous. It doesn’t merely affect his own body and the relationships with his loved ones, but it jeopardizes almost every other living person within Baldur’s Gate. Of course, Gale would never say this. And while he may think such a self-pitying thought, he dare not share it with Tav. The last thing Gale wants to do is make Tav’s very real problem seem inconsequential because it most certainly is not!

Instead, Gale offers to commiserate with Tav on occasion, making sure to never bellyache the loudest. He wants it to be Tav’s time to vent, complain, scream- to just let it all out. He knows Tav is under an incredible amount of pressure as their leader, addiction or not. Gale wants Tav to trust him enough for the two of them to be vulnerable around each other. I mean Mystra above! The whole camp knows that Gale’s easily susceptible most of the time, so there’s absolutely no shame in Tav admitting they experience similarly at times.

Gale will take it upon himself to concoct a special drink menu for Tav, all nonalcoholic of course. It’s elaborate and painstakingly organized. If Tav thought their sober options were few and far between before, they certainly won’t now! Gale is the camp’s resident cook, so he takes pride in being able to satisfy not only everyone’s needs but to please their tastes as well. Well, except for Astarion. Blood is not ever to be a feature on Gale's menu, thank you very much!

The part Gale has some trouble with is wrapping his head around someone as wonderful as Tav would ever want such a life for themselves. Gale thinks highly of Tav, sometimes too highly. In some instances, Gale cannot see the forest for the trees thanks to the pedestal he’s placed Tav on. In such scenarios, Tav may have to remind Gale that they’re only mortal. And that this affliction of theirs is no more a choice than Gale’s own need for magic.

Once Gale is on the same page, he ceases the majority of his condemnation, instead opting to try and distract Tav from the overwhelming desires raging on inside them. He offers to show Tav the Weave once more, or perhaps, some other simple, rather pretty tricks. Rolan’s display of fireworks in Emerald Grove wasn’t a difficult spell, and certainly no challenge for Gale. But if many simple spells are what it takes to keep Tav’s mind occupied as they ride out their newfound prohibition, then so be it.

If by some miracle, Gale does find a spell or enchantment to help alleviate some of Tav’s worse withdrawal symptoms or cravings, he will perform it enthusiastically should Tav want. And if Tav prefers to handle this the old-fashioned way, Gale will do his best to bite his tongue and respect Tav’s choices. ‘I just want things to be easier for you. Life is hard enough as it is with all this tadpole business running around. Whatever you ask of me, you shall get.’

Gale is a faithful partner. He doesn’t run at the first sign of trouble, not when’s committed himself to another person. Be it in friendship, or romance, relationships mean a great deal to him. He refuses to let Tav endure this hardship alone. ‘I do not say this lightly: you mean a great deal to me. No matter the toils, I will stay by your side.’

Wyll:

Wyll, above all else, aims to be an honorable man. Despite his suffering, despite his shortcomings and misfortunes, he refuses to falter or fall. His deal with Mizora may have sullied his Father’s view of him and dampened Wyll’s view of himself, but it did not change how he desires to see himself. Wyll knows the kind of man he wants to be and he does everything within his power to act accordingly.

For Wyll, addiction is a difficult subject. He’s very strong-willed, and because he spends so much time working hard to do what he believes is the right thing, he can look down on other people at times. He has sympathy for people dealing with such afflictions, but behind his care, a small part of him is disappointed. He believes in choosing to be good, to try harder. He thinks all mortals are capable of acting wiser. So while Wyll understands Tav endures such difficulties now, Wyll also firmly believes Tav will have conquered them in the future.

This can put a fair amount of pressure on Tav’s shoulders. But it can also serve to inspire them. In either case, Tav would need to talk to Wyll about how they feel when it comes to Wyll’s encouragement. Wyll, being the supportive man he is, would never want to intentionally make Tav feel demoralized. So if there’s something in his behavior or in his words of motivation that he can change to make Tav feel less burdened, he will do so.

Wyll, like Astarion, knows he cannot make himself responsible for Tav’s choices. So Wyll does not take the part of Tav’s keeper, but he does make an effort to be near Tav as they make their decision, offering his opinion should Tav ask. The more Wyll’s presence remains a constant in Tav’s life, the more Wyll hopes Tav will come to appreciate his perspective. If Tav knows Wyll isn’t going to leave or abandon them anytime soon, they may feel emboldened to make the necessary tougher decisions of turning down a drink or two.

Wyll is more than happy to stay up chatting the nights the cravings just won’t go away. During days Tav’s irrepressible urge causes them to feel restless and manic, Wyll asks Tav to join him for a lesson in combat. After all, he’s not called the Blade of Frontiers for nothing. Sweating out the chemicals and forcing the body to flush all the drugs out of Tav’s system is a great way to sober up. And if the symptoms of withdrawal aren’t all-consuming, it also makes for a great distraction.

However, during the periods everything is all just too much: the headaches, the nausea, the itchiness, and the sweating won’t stop, Wyll finds a shady spot in camp for the two of them to rest. And as Tav rides out such agonizing lows, Wyll tells stories of his time as a child living in Baldur’s Gate in soothing, hushed tones. His warm voice brings comfort, a much-needed contrast to the ailment Tav’s fighting.

Wyll cares deeply for Tav. And he believes in Tav, even when Tav doesn’t believe in themselves. ‘You can resist this, you will resist this.’

Wyll has no intentions of going anywhere. Addiction or sobriety, he and Tav are a team. Wyll sees Tav as a great hero: he knows they can fight to save themselves. ‘You are the strongest person I know. Nevertheless, you do not have to shoulder this burden alone.’

Halsin:

Halsin is the least likely to have any shared experience when it comes to dealing with addiction. He has fought off depression and hopelessness time and time again but he knows not of the pitfalls addiction brings. Having lived as long as he has, there’s no doubt he’s met those suffering from such afflictions. And being a druid, he may even have been consulted on how best to treat them. But that’s the end of Halsin’s experience.

If Tav has an issue, any issue, Halsin is more than willing to help Tav navigate it. After all, Tav helped him save the shadowlands from their darkness. There is no ask too great, Halsin could never say no to aiding Tav with a favor. To Halsin, Tav is a savior: they saved Emerald Grove, they saved Thaniel’s realm, hell, Tav saved all of Baldur’s Gate. Halsin feels he owes them unimaginable thanks. So it pains him greatly to know Tav is suffering.

Halsin offers to use his abilities to help Tav ease their obsessive mind, and the nagging hunger addiction brings. Of course, druid magic alone is not enough to stop the urge from manifesting and whispering in Tav’s ear. Halsin offers to accompany Tav around town, to sort of supervise them, in his way. He won’t force Tav to change any of their decisions but he keeps a watchful eye almost like a doting father as he places a supportive hand on Tav’s shoulder each time they walk past a bar or tavern.

Halsin knows he cannot control Tav’s actions, but he can influence the choices they make together as a duo. So long as he is at Tav’s side, Halsin will let his wise opinion be known.

In their time outside of the city, Halsin takes time to educate Tav on the different flora and fauna found in Faerun. When they come across a plant used to ferment alcohol, Halsin explains the history of the process. Yes, wine and ale are examples of making use of what nature provides, but as with all other things, even nature must be consumed in moderation. Mother Nature blesses everyone with the ability to enjoy such pleasures, but that gift can double as a curse. It is a test of our restraint and humility to know when and where to indulge.

Speaking of indulgence, Haslin would not recommend swapping one appetite for another, but should Tav want to bide their time engaging in an alternative pleasure, Halsin would be more than happy to oblige. Physical activity and sweating would help relieve Tav’s body of some of the toxins built up within their system. In addition, such activity provides a temporary release of euphoria in the body and brain, which would help combat the pain and despondence that come with withdrawal. ‘If I can provide you with the least bit of comfort. It’s no hardship from me. Far from it.’

In the case Halsin leaves Tav for a time to settle the newly displaced within Thaniel's healed realm, he does what he can to ensure his new village is a place of continued healing and sobriety for Ta. Halsin privately enlightens all of the other adults within his new settlement about Tav’s condition. He asks them, respectfully, to refrain from providing Tav with any alcohol or other substances whenever Tav comes to visit.

Halsin does all within his power to let Tav know they are not alone in their journey, and that no matter the setbacks along the way, he intends to bolster Tav through it all. ‘You are by far nature’s greatest gift to me. No matter the foe, be it the shadows or the dependency within your mind, could ever keep me from you.’

If You Enjoyed, Please Consider Tipping Me Via Kofi!

#astarion x tav #wyll x tav #gale x tav #halsin x tav #bg3 imagine #bg3 #hc #bg3 imagines

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fireinthefireproofvault · 26 days

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Who Would Each M*A*S*H Character Play in DnD?

Got inspired by my mutual @spacemanxpaninis & after much discussion here’s our M*A*S*H version of her HH post 😌

Hawkeye chooses a Tiefling character and plays the ‘what, just because I look like this?’ card anytime he gets blamed for things. Makes a bard partially so Trapper doesn’t have to and partially because he’s against unnecessary killing. In fact, he loves the roleplaying so much and is only in favor of killing really bad NPCs, so he gets mad if people (Frank) try to play the mission-driven murder hobo. Even mischief like personal sidequests to seduce NPCs often end up benefiting the party with information or rewards, so they can’t be too mad at him, especially when he plays amazing support as a mostly nonviolent character.

Trapper leaves the campaign early, but man was he good at roleplaying. The DM has to stop him from actually reenacting things in real life especially if they’re indecent. Almost refuses to call Hawkeye’s character by his name, just ‘handsome devil’ variations (Klink wants what they have fr). His character was an elf rogue; he was almost a bard but he wanted to be able to do more than support, i.e. become the main character if he wanted. His character was great with female and kid NPCs alike, almost all of them liking him unless they were stern authority types, especially because he was good at finding legitimate ways around them,

Ignoring the pressure to fill Trapper’s shoes, BJ plays the character he wants to play, an air genasi former sailor named Blow Jibhandler. He knows. Of course he knows. Despite his character’s name and background, Blow has a wife and child back home and his main motivation is defending his wife’s honor. Raves a lot about how his daughter inherited his powers and is already creating storms at such a young age. Is immediately thick as thieves with Hawkeye’s bard, claiming he remembers him from some old tavern by the sea and helping him write songs and vicious mockery insults.

Margaret decides she wants to let loose, so she goes with barbarian, but she doesn’t feel that’s any reason to sacrifice beauty or brains, making the character a very well-read elf whose ways got her kicked out of being a footsoldier and has her hating being a cog in some old man’s machine. Uses her character’s frustration at the idiots surrounding her and that same feeling from real life as motivation for her battle rage. That and sexism, too. Anytime an NPC is sexist to her they only make her more powerful. Pushes Frank out of the way to just become the tank herself if he won’t do it.

Frank also leaves early. Doesn’t like how infrequently his character gets the spotlight or gets teased by Hawkeye’s character. Wants to be a traditional hero, so he goes for a human paladin but never takes the chance to be the tank unless the others make him. Makes the generic white guy warrior with dead wife backstory.

Charles goes for a wizard upon learning they’re the most traditionally educated, flaunting fake wizard school credentials any chance he can get, especially if he thinks it’ll get him in places (it doesn’t always). The phrase ‘otherworldly grace’ is all it takes for him to choose an elf even though the others complain they’ve got elves already. For a guy who acted like roleplay was beneath him, he’s gotten so interested in not only his fake credentials but also being able to step in with the perfect spell at any given time. Also bantering in character with Hawkeye and BJ’s characters.

Radar wants a familiar so bad, choosing druid for a chance at having animal friends. They’re versatile, too. As far as race goes he’s content “just being a regular human” especially when Hawkeye and BJ tease him about playing a halfling. His character in particular somehow passes every single perception and investigation check. He doesn’t like fighting so most of his moves in combat are holding enemies down, healing the others, or just letting his familiar do it as long as it’ll be safe. It’s technically not canon but they let him make it be a bunny rabbit.

Klinger decides his bard cross-dresses too as a form of protest for how his people are treated, having chosen a goblin so he can be shrewd and do the voice. He loves doing voices best and will absolutely demonstrate dance moves his character does. The type of bard that seduces NPCs of any gender to kill them, but not without the satisfaction of revealing to male ones that he was a dude the whole time. His little goblin is really loving and loyal to all the other characters and really isn’t afraid to stick out his neck for them.

Father Mulcahy obviously chooses cleric, commenting on both the obvious choice and the irony of being a healer amidst all the doctors and nurses. An Aasimar seems too on-the-nose and he wants his character to be down-to earth, so he sticks with a human who’s trying, and usually failing, to reign everyone else in. Plays a very combat-heavy cleric that absolutely bashes in the faces of evildoers who don’t heed his message, causing some of the other players to tease the Father that ‘thou shalt not kill’ and all. The good cleric is an uncle, so he’s also great with child NPCs, even if he’s awkward around women.

Nurse Kellye has a sense of humor, so her ranger is a halfling from a far-off island who’s an expert with both her twin swords and a bow and arrows. Loves both rushing in and quickly picking off enemies, so a joke about ‘sic-ing Kellye on ‘em’ emerges. Just like Margaret’s character, she doesn’t take any bullshit from NPCs, especially male ones.

Colonel Potter, of course, is the DM and he spends most of his time done with all the players’ utter horse hockey.

#m*a*s*h #mash #dungeons and dragons #dnd #hawkeye pierce #trapper john mcintyre #bj hunnicutt #margaret houlihan #frank burns #charles emerson winchester iii #radar o'reilly #max klinger #father mulcahy #francis mulcahy #nurse kellye #colonel potter

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aurel1awrites · 2 months

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𝙎𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩 𝙆𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙨

A cute scene from a chapter from my fanfic on wattpad !!

∞

I’m sitting in the library with a pile of books stacked messily on top of one another in front of me.

I’ve spent my whole afternoon holed up in the library reading all I can possibly find on Slytherin’s history and everything that’s known about the Chamber of Secrets.

Someone pulls out the chair next to me and sits down. Without even having to look up, I already know who it is.

“Are you following me, Diggory?” I say, still not looking up.

“No, ma’am,” he says, running a hand through his hair.

“Why do I keep seeing you everywhere I go?”

“Is that a complaint?” he raises an eyebrow.

“What if it was?”

“Ah, but I know it’s not,” he grins, his prominent dimples appearing. “So what are we reading today, Clever Girl?”

He bends his head to try to look at the cover of the book in my hand.

“Secrets of Slytherin,” he reads with a frown. “Why are you reading that?”

“Because I’m trying to figure something out,” I reply, my eyes still scanning the same line over and over. I haven’t actually absorbed anything that I’ve read since Golden Boy has sat down here.

Cedric shifts my pile of books in front of him, and begins to go through them. I watch out of the corners of my eyes as he reads the title of all of them and picks up a random one and opens it.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Reading,” he replies casually.

I snap my book with a sigh, and I watch his lips form a smile.

“Someone’s happy,” I raise an eyebrow. “You’ve finally got my full attention. Satisfied?”

“Oh, very,” he smirks, putting his book down. “You want to finally tell me what’s actually going on?”

“What are you talking about,” I say cooly, my heart hammering inside.

“Well–” he picks up my book that’s titled, ‘Wizarding Mythologies: The Chamber of Secrets’. “Why are you suddenly interested in the Chamber of Secrets and about Slytherin?”

“Being nosy now, are we?” I say.

“Very,” he nods. “So please tell me.”

So I do. I tell him everything that’s happened since the first day of term. For some reason, I’ve just decided to trust him. When I’m finished, he looks at me like I've just told him some fantasy story.

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“Because it’s not your thing to worry about,” I answer, not meeting his gaze. “It’s not your burden to carry.”

“And it isn’t yours either.”

I finally look up to meet his eyes that are filled with nothing but concern. How could I not fall for him? Sitting this close to him really gives me a chance to examine his features. Every girl in Hogwarts would die to be this close to Cedric Diggory– to be able to sit only a few feet apart and gaze at his beautifully structured face.

“Well, someone needs to stop the heir,” I say quietly.

“And that isn’t your job,” Cedric responds. “You’re sitting here, cooped up in the library, reading all of this– this bullshit that isn’t your problem to worry about.”

“Let’s go do something,” he stands up, reaching out his hand for me to take.

I look at it for a moment before grabbing it and standing up, following him out of the library.

∞

We end up on the second floor of the castle, in front of the painting of the fruit bowl.

Cedric reaches a hand forward, and tickles the pear on the painting.

The painting swings forwards to reveal the Hogwarts’ kitchens inside.

Inside, there are dozens of house elves bustling around, some cooking, some prepping, and some cleaning.

“Mr. Diggory!” they all exclaim happily when they spot Cedric.

“Frequent customer here?” I grin.

“I come here sometimes for midnight snacks,” he says with a lopsided smile.

The house-elves rush forwards, all of them taking turns to give him a hug.

“Mr. Diggory has brought a girl!” one of them exclaims.

“Oh and she’s beautiful!”

“Is this your girlfriend, Mr. Diggory?” another one tugs at the hem of Cedric’s jeans.

“Oh no–”

“We’re not–”

“Mr. Diggory’s blushing!” a high-pitched elf exclaims excitedly. “Oh, and what is the Miss’ name?”

“I’m Y/N,” I say, extending a hand, which the elf shakes excitedly.

“What have you come here for, Mr. Diggory?”

“Oh, I just wanted to bring Y/N by and show her around… and maybe pick up a few snacks.”

“What would you like today, Mr. Diggory?” A group of elves rush over to several ovens lined against the walls, and pull out different bakery items from each.

Croissants, biscuits, cupcakes, muffins… you name it, they have it all.

“I’ll let Miss Adair pick,” Cedric says with a grin.

“Wow, what a gentleman you are,” I say, going along with it. “Is this what you do to all of your girls? Bring them to the kitchens and try to woo them?”

“Oh yeah, all of my girls actually,” he nods very seriously. “They love being wooed by the Cedric Diggory.”

“Your ego is as fat as your head, Golden Boy,” I scoff, but can’t help but grin.

“And I’ll take a few biscuits and muffins please,” I say to the elves, who nod eagerly and begin wrapping up a basket of both.

“Good choice,” Cedric grins.

We thank all of the elves before leaving, and Cedric leads the way outside to the Black Lake.

Sitting on the grass, resting our backs against a large shady tree, we watch the sun begin to set, lying right on the horizon.

“These are really good,” I say, holding up a biscuit before taking another bite.

“Now you’re grateful for this frequent customer, aren’t you?” Cedric smirks, pointing at himself.

“I do appreciate his air-head very much,” I nod.

“That air-head just got you a bunch of pastries,” he remarks, raising an eyebrow.

He looks at me for a moment, as if he’s taking in all of my features and really analyzing them. I suddenly feel very self-conscious.

“I never noticed how red your hair actually is,” he comments, looking at my cherry red hair that is now more prominent than ever with the sun beaming down on it.

“It’s fading,” I say, picking up a strand and looking at it.

“Why’d you dye it?” he asks.

“I wanted a change over the summer,” I shrug. “I wanted to try something new. Why– does it look bad?”

“No,” he shakes his head, “Not at all.”

There’s a group of students taking an evening swim in the Black Lake with the Giant Squid.

“Do you want to go for a swim?” Cedric asks, watching me as I watch the group of students.

“No,” I raise an eyebrow. “Where’d you get that?”

“You’ve been watching them for the last three minutes,” he laughs. “They’re going to think you’re a creep.”

“Yeah?” I grin. “Then you’re a creep for watching me, Diggory.”

“How dare you,” he gasps dramatically. “You’ll pay for that, Adair.”

He sets his muffin down and picks me up, running towards the water of the Black Lake.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING– PUT ME DOWN– CEDRIC DIGGORY– YOU PUT ME DOWN RIGHT NOW—”

Once we’ve finally reached the water, Cedric throws me in gently, and I’m full drenched, in my jeans and everything.

“Cedric Diggory!” I exclaim.

“Yes, that is my name,” he grins mischievously.

“Oh, you’re going to pay for that!” I shake my head, scooping a handful of water in my two hands and throwing it onto him.

He splashes me back, and it begins the war between the two of us, each one trying to get the other more drenched.

I attempt to shove him into the lake, but him being much taller than me gives him an advantage.

Finally, he eventually stumbles into the water, his hair soaking wet.

“Aha!” I exclaim with triumph. “My payback!”

“I actually win,” Cedric grins. “I was the one who got you into the water.”

“You drive me insane, Diggory.” I scoff, shaking my head.

“Yeah?” Cedric smirks, stepping closer. He stops when there’s only a few inches between us. I can count every single freckle that dots his face. “How insane?”

“Out of my mind crazy,” I breathe out.

He brushes a wet strand of hair away from my face, and cups my cheek.

“I lose my mind over you too, Clever Girl.”

And I do what I should’ve done long ago– what I’ve wanted to do since I stumbled into that compartment on the train.

I kiss Cedric Diggory.

And it’s the best decision I’ve ever made.

#cedric diggory fanfic #wattpad #cedric diggory #harry potter #TGWL #cedric #hufflepuff #gryffndor #cedric x fem #cedric x reader #cedric x y/n #fluff #cedric diggory fluff #first kiss #idiots in love #getting together

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acefaun · 9 months

Note

Hello my lovely lady. 💓 I was wondering if you could write a, Lindir x female elf reader story? Lindir appears in the hobbit movies. Please ✨🥺

Lindir~ Purposeful

Synopsis: Lindir is surprised to find you, his long-time crush, traveling with a company of dwarves. He’s fearful for your life, so what can he say that will get you to stay by his side?

🍃Masterlist🍃 Female Elf MC!

A/n: To start, I was looking up videos on YouTube to get more familiar with Lindir and the first commercial I got was “Lindor, made to melt you” and I wheezed over it for the longest hour of my life. 💀 I was destined to be a Lindir simp; the YouTube gods have foretold thus.

–Word Count: 1,760–

The clean air of day was a welcome thing in Rivendell, it was always such a peaceful place and its magic was enough to soothe even mental ailments. Well… it was mostly always peaceful, if you consider that a company of dwarves—even if small—was a rare sight.

To make this company even stranger, Lindir was most interested in the fact that a familiar elf-maiden was traveling with a bunch of rowdy dwarves, an unassuming hobbit, and a gray wizard—but this elf-maiden wasn’t just any elf of Middle Earth… You were an elf that he had once held affections for… and oddly, upon being in your vicinity again, his feelings seemed to blossom strongly. How was it you managed to hold his heart for so long?

He wasn’t originally going to disturb you while you took your rest in Rivendell before heading out into the wilds of the world… but per Lord Elrond’s orders, Lindir was the one to make sure the guests were comfortable—that included you. And where else should he have found you besides on a balcony, looking over the beauty that was your home land?

You had clearly heard him approach you, so it didn’t startle you when he suddenly commented, “You’re not with your companions.”

You lifted an eyebrow. “Should I be?” You were sure that even Lindir would understand that you just wanted to relish being home while you had the chance.

After a half-second of hesitating, Lindir asked, “What is a maiden doing with… this lot?” He picked his words slowly and carefully, not meaning to offend you if you just so happened to prefer the company of dwarves to your own kind.

“Gandalf is a dear friend, and I agreed to join this company on his behest,” you answered as if it were a noble mission, and not some game of death that had the potential of a dragon killing you all at once. “And… if I’m being honest, I traveled with them because Gandalf said we’d be passing through Rivendell.” You paused again, quietly adding, “I haven’t been home in a while…”

“You haven’t,” Lindir agreed, though he looked almost neglected as he quietly asked, “Is that truly the only reason you came?”

In truth, you had craved to visit Rivendell specifically for the chance to see Lindir again, but now that he was in front of you, you didn’t know how to make words. You could only shyly utter, “It’s one of my reasons…”

Even after all the time you spent away from Rivendell, things never changed between the two of you; you were always dancing around one another, neither saying what you really meant.

Lindir tested, “You're truly following them to face a dragon?” That was the harsh reality you faced; and you could tell Lindir was worried about you.

Things fell into a tense silence as you stared whimsically at the waterfalls. Instead of answering his question, you tried to brush it off and say, “I'm helping them return to their home.”

Lindir sighed as he observed you. He always thought you were so selfless and put others before yourself; but you also had a great heart-wrenching habit of putting others before him… Based on your response he asked, “But will you return home?”

It was unlikely, though you couldn't give him an answer and the silence persisted until you finally offered, “Let's take a walk.”

Thankfully, he didn't disagree. He'd never tell you no. But taking a walk with Lindir, all you could do was reminisce about your past together rather than focusing on a bleak future that you may or may not have.

Still, you couldn't avoid the topic for long. By the way he fidgeted with his hands, you could tell Lindir was nervous—or maybe not nervous; he seemed genuinely scared, and you were unsure how to comfort him or assure him you'd be alright.

But you never had time to try before Lindir spoke, “You're a strong maiden… and I should have the utmost faith in your abilities. I only…” He trailed off, though he expected you would understand what he was trying to get at.

“Again?” You asked quietly. It felt like déjà vu all over. This conversation had happened before… It occurred the first time you had left Rivendell for a life of adventure. But now that you've experienced the world for yourself, you knew what you had to tell him. “You have a purpose with Lord Elrond… Mine is not such a lavish pursuit. I wish to help those I can help so long as it's in my power to do so. That means…” You continued slowly, “venturing outside of Rivendell.”

It was a suitable response, even he could admit that, but it wasn't what he wanted to hear. “But what power do you have against a dragon?” It was his turn to make a point as he still tried to convince you, “I'm sure if you stayed we could find something-”

“Mellon nin(my friend),” you interrupted softly. “I am to my sword and bow as you are to your literature and voice.”

Lindir seemed particularly upset, though you knew the details of your journey this time were much more imminently dangerous. But his complaints caught you off guard. “But why for dwarves? Of all the reasons you could have to wield a weapon…” He sighed warily as if just mentioning Thorin’s company caused him a headache. “And I can only imagine if they're as… rambunctious as they were at the meal with Lord Elrond…” He trailed off unsure of what kind of insult he could have to throw their way without equally insulting you. “I fail to see why you would go so far.”

“Honestly… They're not as bad as you think. They're a merry bunch, really—even if we have our differences.” You paused, gauging Lindir’s seemingly mournful expression. Was he that upset over the company you joined? “Lindir, I know you think little of dwarves, but there's more to them than meets the eye. Sure, they can be rude and brutish and stubborn… and many other things—you probably have a list longer than the distance across Middle Earth—but my point is that-”

“Meleth nin(my love),” he interrupted you with red cheeks. It made you come to a pause as well as you processed his words. “Let us stop this foolish dance,” he sternly demanded; his rigid body language telling you he was taking this conversation very seriously, and he would not continue to dance this never ending dance with you. “We both know it is not the dwarves that make me wish for you to change your mind. Your aspiration to help them is a noble one.” He paused, trying to come up with the right words to say under your seemingly heavy gaze. But, for the first time in his long life, words weren't coming easily to him. Sighing, he relented, finally asking, “Is it selfish that I want you to stay… for me?”

Your heart skipped as your wide eyes stayed trained on his face for any hidden meaning, anything that could give you a hint as to how to reply. “Lindir…” He called you his love… You were just as speechless as he seemed to have been. “Lindir…”

Glancing away from you, he was feeling awkward at how you only seemed to be able to utter his name. Perhaps he had misread something of your relationship. “Sorry,” he sincerely apologized. “I'm asking too much of you, mellon nin(my friend)…” He admitted to himself, glancing away, avoiding the cold heartache of rejection. “I should return to my duties…”

“Wait,” you called, making him stop to at least regard you. “Did… Did you mean it?”

He stayed frozen, exceedingly quiet for a few moments before he acknowledged, “Every word.”

You faltered, uttering quietly, “Meleth(love)…” You searched his gaze for truth and he desperately searched yours in return. Seeing the longing in your gaze, he embraced you in his arms as quickly as you were to wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. “Le melin(I love you)...”

His arms tightened around you, not wanting to even think about you leaving his embrace. Despite your soft declaration of your feelings, he timidly asked, “Will you stay with me?” Pausing he rephrased, “Actually…” He met your gaze, and you found him staring at you with tenacity deep in his eyes. “It’s less of a question… (Name), I want you to stay with me.”

“Lindir-”

“Let me be your purpose,” he interrupted you. “I know you are a strong maiden and you would wish to use this strength in the defense of others, but I cannot let you go again… not when I don’t know if you’ll return to me. I will speak to Thorin myself about relinquishing your service to the company. Just… say you'll allow me.”

“Lindir,” you called once again for his attention, the elf too determined with his plans to recognize that you already had your answer. “Let me talk to Thorin with you. I owe an explanation to them.”

His heart soared as he took this as an agreement, a promise that you weren't going to leave him, that you were going to stay with him; it was a sign that you loved him as much as he loved you. “Very well, meleth nin(my love).”

And he was all too eager to break the news to your company… except for the fact that the dwarves had already seemed to have left. He should have been relieved that they had gone on without you… but this presented a different issue that needed addressing.

Now… If only they knew what the odd smirks between Gandalf and Lord Elrond were about…

#middle earth #the hobbit #the hobbit lindir #the hobbit fanfic #lindir x reader #lindir

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marcynomercy · 5 months

Text

Tav accidentally turns back into a child.

I had this completely random idea and why not write it down? Thanks @spacebarbarianweird for encouraging me.

Pairing: Astaion x f!Tav(named.)

Warnings: I wrote this with my Tav Calamity in mind so there are nods to her past here.

It is not known how this happened only that it was an explosion with something, with magic and then… They saw a little girl in the place where Calamity was or rather with her clothes now too big for such a small child.

“Shit…” The vampire muttered in disbelief with his hand over his face seeing the disaster he caused.

You see, it was their habit to go ahead of the group to explore and steal everything they could, it was a little game for both of them. However, who could have imagined that inside this locked trunk there was something like this?

“This is your fault!” The little girl accused him, pointing at him with her tiny hand.

Everyone was holding back their laughter, forgive them after all this is a scene as funny as it is adorable. It was a bit strange for them to arrive at the camp with a child wrapped in some fabric they found and simply hand it into Gale's hands, the wizard was obviously confused, but he would recognize the eyes of the notorious leader of that group even in this adorable form.

“By the gods… What happened?” Astarion explained the incident in her place, not that she wasn't capable of it… It was just that it was impossible for the wizard to listen to the explanation coming from that little creature without laughing.

Let's face it, hearing a cute child talk like an adult was bizarre to say the least and since this child was Calamity, obviously this would be more than funny in the eyes of her companions… Poor girl, she wants to bury herself somewhere in this moment of so much shame . Interestingly, Astarion was the only one not to laugh at her… Yet. It was frustrating to hear that she would have to stay like this for a while, in Gale's words it was like some kind of very bizarre side effect of being caught in an arcane trap, so she would be back to normal in a few days. DAYS!

There was nothing to be done but wait so her companions were very thoughtful in getting her some clothes, Shadowheart handed them to her with a somewhat strange smile.

“Why are you smiling like that?” The girl asked suspiciously.

“Oh, nothing. I was just thinking how kind it was of Astarion to adjust these clothes to the exact dress size for you.”

This was a surprise and it was just the beginning, obviously Calamity couldn't leave the camp alone after all it would be dangerous, but don't worry Astarion was in charge of looking after her in the meantime. And that's where things get interesting.

“Darling, come here.” Astarion called to her with a small wave of his hand.

The little child ran towards him as fast as her little legs could carry her. Everyone stopped doing whatever they were doing just to see that scene. Calamity looked up to face him, the elf had a red ribbon in his hands.

"Can I?" She didn't understand what exactly he wanted, but she consented anyway. To her surprise, he picked her up and sat her on the cushions of his tent.

After settling her in, he took a hairbrush and started work, as soon as he finished he handed her a mirror. Astarion had tied his hair up with that ribbon, his hair was braided on the sides and tied in a red bow.

“That…” She was speechless.

“Don’t be surprised, when I met you back then you wore your hair exactly like that right?”

Oh… He looked awkward, but somehow strangely happy? It was then that Calamity realized that she looked exactly the same as the day she met him by chance when she was a little girl. He recreated the exact simple dress she wore and even got a red ribbon for her hair, with her eyes full of curiosity she looked at him and didn't need to ask anything.

“Much better, you look acceptable at least for now.” It was a mystery what was going on in Astarion's mind at that moment, but his eyes had a subtle glimpse of nostalgia.

This detail did not go unnoticed by the curious looks of his campmates, they were watching everything with the eyes of hawks! Astarion has only shown kindness to her and her alone, whether as a little girl or an adult.

“Thank you Astarion, I appreciate your kindness.” She turns around smiling as radiant as the sun itself.

Her smile warmed Astarion's undead heart and it was from that moment on that he didn't let her leave his field of vision for a single moment, not even when they went to sleep that night, he simply picked her up in his arms and carried her to He tries as if he were a doll followed by a “good night” to the others watching the scene in perplexity. Calamity was the perfect image of a living doll, she was cute, fragile, her different colored eyes were big and sparkled with innocence… And that bothered her.

“Darling, if you inflate any more your cheeks will explode.” He says snuggling her in pillows and cushions before covering her with a blanket.

“This is annoying… Going back to being small like this…” She said looking at her small hands.

“Small, you always were…” He joked and laughed when he saw the irritated look she gave him. “I understand what you mean, you don’t need to look at me like that, you heard Gale this will pass so in the meantime be a good girl and behave.”

In the next few days it wasn't difficult for him to take care of her, Calamity behaved as he had asked and made it very easy for both of them. Astarion on the other hand worried a lot, it wasn't strange to see him holding her hand or carrying her in his arms especially if they had to leave the camp. All these outings ended in a lot of carnage, don't blame him he was just doing his duty defending his lovely leader from malicious looks. He always ended up like this with both of them covered in blood… Would it be too morbid to say that Calamity was even cuter with blood on her? This thought he would keep to himself for eternity.

#astarion x tav #astarion x f!tav #astarion romance #astarion/tav #tav x astarion #baldurs gate #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #tav #tav bg3 #astarion x oc #astarion bg3 #my tav #oc tav calamity

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wildwarcat · 2 years

Note

Hello! I recently rewatched the lotr trilogy and fell back in love with Legolas 😍 if you’re still taking requests then I have a Legolas x reader fic to request! If you’re not taking requests anymore then feel free to ignore this 🙂 but I was thinking that the reader is immortal (they can be a kind of wizard similar to Gandalf but younger, or an elf) and over the centuries they visited Mirkwood quite a few times and became very close with Legolas. They’ve been in love with each other for a long time and when they’re both chosen to be a part of the fellowship they decide to get married in Rivendell before they leave because if there’s a chance they can die on the mission they want to made sure they’re truly bound to each other 😍 if you do end up writing something inspired by this then thank you in advance!

Okay it took me WAY too long to get to this request but I absolutely LOVE it! Like how could I say no to something like this?! Definitely gonna have multiple parts to this so ENJOY PART ONE!

For Forever Pt. 1 (Legolas x Half-Maia!Reader)

“You’re deranged if you think I’m letting you go on this journey without me.” You said, propped up against a pillar while Legolas inspected his arrows for any faults.

“And you’re deranged if you think I’ll let you put yourself in danger like that.” He answered, not looking up from his arrows.

You smirked and rolled your eyes, “I’ve had my fair share of danger in my five thousand years of life, mel nin. You should know that better than anyone.”

“And the last time we faced an enemy that came even close to this, you nearly died in my arms!” Legolas snapped suddenly, his blue eyes meeting your y/e/c orbs with fear. You cocked your head gently, your expression softening from arrogance to understanding.

“So that’s what this is about, is it?” You whispered, knowing that he could hear you, “My magic failed me that day. Azog’s forces were too strong for me then.”

“I nearly lost you. My love, my light, my life... all of it would have been snuffed out like a candle in wind had I lost you.” Legolas choked out, holding back the raw emotions that were coursing through him. He set himself down on the marble steps and let out a heavy sigh. You joined him, pulling the arrow from his hand and replacing it with your own smaller hand, feeling every ridge and callous on his palm as you laced your fingers together.

“I was younger then; my magic was not strong enough to protect me because there had never been a time before when I had to wield it. Nor was I learned enough to wield it properly,” You admitted, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, “But I am not as young as I was then, my talents have grown stronger, as has my magic. At the very least, my skills are more impressive than they were the first time we met.”

77 years earlier

“Remember this, Y/N. Thranduil is not one to be taken for a fool. Even the slightest offense may have you banished from his realm.” Gandalf explained to you. Even the wise old wizard had his hesitations about entering the realm of the Greenwood, but you, still being young in the eyes of magic and time, were fearless at the thought of having to stand before Thranduil himself.

“If all goes as we intend it to, then we shall not cross paths with him or his people.” You replied, glancing over at Thorin Oakenshield, his dark eyes fixed on the entrance to Mirkwood, “Though I do fear that Thorin’s brash behavior may cost us safe passage.”

Gandalf set a hand upon your shoulders and hummed softly, “That is why you are going with them, Y/N. You know the ways of Mirkwood better than they do. And you know what dangers lie within its borders. The trees are your father’s realm, but the power of a dying forest can only do so much. So, remember this and remember it well: do not disclose your bloodline to the King of the Greenwood, he will only seek to use it to his own advantage and that is something we cannot afford.”

You nodded and tightened the leather bracers on your arms before looking back at your mentor and friend. Gandalf was already climbing upon his horse, planning to ride south to look into matters that did not concern Thorin Oakenshield… yet. With a final farewell to the dwarves and Bilbo Baggins and final knowing glance towards you, the aged wizard nudged his horse into a lively gallop south, leaving you in charge of the company.

“Alrighty, gents, off we go!” You called out, leading them onto the weather-worn path that led through Mirkwood.

The sight of the Greenwood from within was gut-wrenching to say the least. Your father, Draefend, a Maia of Oromë, had helped construct this forest at the dawning of Middle-earth, as he had Fangorn and Lorien and all the other woodlands of this world. But to see his work perish before your very eyes sent a sharp pang into your chest.

As you and Thorin’s company wandered ever deeper, your mind began to drift to thoughts of your father.

‘How could he let it come to this? Why has he not intervened?’

It was these lingering thoughts that had distracted you long enough to lose Bilbo among the trees and eventually, the rest of the company as well. When you no longer heard the complaints of dwarves behind you, you glanced back to find yourself utterly alone in the wood.

“Gandalf is going to kill me.” You muttered, looking around for any sign of your compatriots, finding nothing despite your efforts. That was when an idea clicked into your head. Making your way over to a nearby oak, you set an outstretched hand upon its withering bark and whispered the words taught to you by your father when you were young.

“Mighty forest, I ask of you this deed. Show me Thorin Oakenshield.”

Your eyes flashed gold, and in an instant you were travelling through Mirkwood without taking a step until at last you came to a halt at the nest of several giant spiders. Tangled in their webs you saw cocooned beings wrapped in silk writhing and squirming as the massive spiders inched ever closer to them. Pulling away from the tree, your eyes faded back to their usual color and a smile spread across your face. Gripping your sword, you took off in the direction of the spiders, feeling your physical form change as you ran, until you were set upon all fours in the form of a golden deer, leaping and bounding over stones and felled trees with ease until at last you reached the company.

In the time it had taken you to reach them, they had broken free of their silk cages and were now on the attack, killing spider after spider before them. With a gust of wind, your animal form faded, and you stood upright, drawing your sword and leaping into battle.

The battle, though intense, was ultimately short-lived when a small battalion of Silvan Elves appeared. Though most of the spiders were dead or running off, the elves made quick work finishing off the few that remained before surrounding you and Thorin’s company.

Thorin tightened his grip on his sword, growling next to you as a blonde-haired elf aimed an arrow between your eyes, but you whispered to him in his native tongue.

“Thorin, atkât!”

The dark-haired dwarf snorted but relaxed his hand and silenced his growls. Your eyes shifted to the elf in front of you, who’s arrow was still trained upon your face. You raised a hand and pushed his arrow to the side without fear, shock filling his bright blue eyes.

“Mín ceri- ú- anír- a cost. Mín onlui anír- na aglon trí i glad peacefullui.” You told him, making his brow raise in surprise.

“Peaceful or not, your presence is not welcome here.” He replied sharply, turning to his guards, “Search them.”

At once, the circle of elves disarmed and moved in on the company, pulling weapons away. The blonde elf took care to search you himself, taking your sword and dagger, as well as the spare hunting knife you kept hidden in your boot.

“This is unnecessary, mellon nin. We are not your enemy.” You argued, y/e/c pleading as the elves went to work binding your hands.

“We are no friend to dwarves. Nor are they friend to us.” He answered, before motioning to his guards to lead you all away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After some time walking in silence through the deepest and murkiest parts of the dying Greenwood, you found yourself standing before Thranduil’s halls, a massive stone haven bright and white against the darkening greens, browns and grays of the forest around it. Before you, a pair of large marble doors swung slowly open, wide enough only for the company and their unfriendly escorts to pass through before closing again.

While you would have liked to take the time to drink in the elaborate craftsmanship of the Woodland elves as you passed through the halls of Thranduil’s palace, you kept your eyes forward, following Balin as he was led down into the dungeons of Mirkwood, while Thorin was brought to the king himself. The blonde elf who had searched you earlier led you to a cell larger than those the dwarves were placed into and shut the door behind you, but not leaving as his kin did.

“Why do you linger, ellon?” You asked him, your back still facing him.

“Why are you in the company of these dwarves, bein er?” He asked, his voice no longer harsh, but soft and almost gentle. Heat crept into your cheeks at the name he gave you, but you still turned to face him, your expression steadfast.

“That business is my own. You have no right nor reason to know such things.” You replied smoothly, smirking as you studied him from head to toe. He was handsome, there was no doubt about that. Everything about him said that he was of noble blood, from his armor to the color of his hair, and even the swords he carried were of finer make than his companions.

“You are Thranduil’s son?” You asked him, a brow arched. He looked back at you in shock, but nodded nonetheless.

“I am Legolas, son of Thranduil.” He said, setting a hand to his chest and extending it to you respectfully, “May I know the name of my fair captive in exchange?”

Your smirk shifted into a delicate half-smile and you returned the gesture, “You may know me as Y/N and nothing more.”

#legolas x reader #legolas greenleaf #LOTR MOVIES #LOTR fandom #the hobbit #Desolation of Smaug #legolas greenleaf x reader #orlando bloom x reader #orlando bloom #request #lotr x reader

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blackjackkent · 27 days

Note

4 and 46, please :) Character/pairings of your choice

(Send me a number and I’ll write a micro story using the word or phrase)

4. "one chance" (will do the other in another post :D )

—–

The Emperor watches impassively as the nautiloid cracks apart and the Prism - and its new owners - begin to fall towards the beach below.

Damn.

There were originally two hundred tadpoled victims aboard the ship after it completed its business in Yartar. The Emperor was able to protect twenty in the immediate vicinity of the Sharran half-elf who currently holds the Prism. Of those twenty, thirteen have been killed in the githyanki attack that followed. Seven remain locked under the protection of Orpheus's power: the burning tiefling and the hunter chasing her, the vampire spawn, the Weave-sucking wizard, and the Sharran herself along with the two that rescued her from the pod - the githyanki fighter and the monk with pale, terrified eyes.

A motley collection. But sufficient. Touched by the Absolute but - so long as I maintain the connection - unconsumed by it. A challenge by any measure, human or illithid; the Emperor can already feel the steady thump-thump-thump of the transformation commands, each rebounding off of the Prism's protection like a small explosion.

It is under no illusions that it would be able to find further allies in the time that remains. This is its one chance. These seven souls must not be allowed to die here.

The Emperor closes its eyes, reaches out both hands, feeling the play of the Prism's power around it. With a burst of effort, it hurls the magic outwards, a vast net focused on the seven people it is bound to. Their headlong momentum towards the ground catches within the mesh of energy like a rope drawing suddenly taut. The Emperor feels the impact go through its gut, knocking all the breath from its body.

But the connection holds. Slowly it lowers each of its new allies to the sand of the dark beach and then unwinds the magic from them, back into the Prism's particular corner of the Weave.

Only when all seven are safely deposited is the Emperor able to relax. Good. They will live. Come morning, the work begins.

#ask meme #astreamofstars #bg3 #bg3 fic #bg3 drabble #the emperor bg3 #bg3 the emperor #tyty friend for the prompts! :D

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obsidiancreates · 5 months

Text

The Second Chance Of The Third Age (Part 2)

“Right, let's get these lined up,” Bilbo says as he helps cram the chairs around the table. “Got so carried away with the food I forgot about this. Thorin, can I sit beside-”

Thorin sits and pats a chair that's already next to his, and Bilbo smiles and takes the seat. Thorin reaches over and clasps Bilbo’s hand tightly in his own, and Bilbo turns his hand over to hold it back.

“I think we should start by making sure everyone's caught up,” Bimbo says as Gandalf, last of all, settles into a chair a bit to the side. The wizard in question raises his eyebrows.

“I don't believe that to be wise, Bilbo-”

“Oh, but I do. We're not dancing around the topic, Gandalf, not when things are as serious as they are.”

“That's an understatement,” Gloin grumbles, well aware of exactly what Bilbo was thinking of. “That should go first, I think.”

“Right. Yes. Six of you… never knew.” Bilbo clears his throat, clearly withholding a few tears. “Well, to keep it short, in about seventy or so years Sauron will return.”

Thorin stiffens, and Fili and Kili gape. Oin turns to Dwalin with wide eyes, and he doesn't even need to ask if he'd heard right for Dwalin to nod. Balin presses his hands to his mouth, muffling a low, mournful sound, and Ori chokes on the ale he'd been drinking.

“What's more, I uh… may have discovered, when he did, that I ah… picked up his One Ring in the goblin tunnels. And I'd used that ring on our adventure many times, as well as to, ahem, to avoid unwanted guests and relatives, later on.” His voice is tight, and his expression much the same. An old, old guilt rests behind it all.

For a moment there’s nothing but silence and stares, horrified stares. All but those returned from early death and Gandalf knew that he'd had The Ring, of course, but hearing he used something so terrible so often and on such casual uses as avoiding company…

“It did get destroyed,” Bilbo quickly assures, looking at Gandalf. “And I did give it up. My nephew- well, technically cousin, but we'd always been more like nephew and uncle than cousins- took it to Mordor and destroyed it. You were involved in that too, of course.”

Gandalf eyes Bilbo quizzically. “You gave it up? By your own will?”

“And a push, from um, from you,” Bilbo admits. “But yes, I left it behind when I was eleventy-one and traveled to- well, I intended The Lonely Mountain, but I only got as far as Rivendell before age caught up.”

“My son helped in the quest,” Gloin chimes in, eyes shining with pride. “And got that miserable wood elf prince wrapped around his finger in the process! ‘Goblin Mutant’ indeed, ha! The right bastard couldn’t stand to be parted with my boy after they returned!”

Bilbo makes a sort of hum-whine noise. “Not quite how that went. Granted, Legolas smuggled Gimli into Valinor, but I wouldn't say he was wra-”

“Well I do. Imagine Thranduil's face! His own son, bringing a Dwarf of Erebor to their cherished lands! Ha!”

There's a cheer with the much lighter, happier news, and a quick round of drinking in honor of Gimli, Elf-Charmer.

Gandalf looks near ill.

“Wait.” Fili looks around the table. “Bilbo said six of us didn't make it.”

Balin, Oin, and Ori raise their hands- Ori somewhat hesitantly. Dori and Nori have been glued to his side the entire time, and now they both somehow manage to move even closer to him, like an overfilled sandwich crushed in a desperate grip.

“In Khazad-dûm.” Balin's voice shakes, eyes brimming with tears. “I… I lead a party to try and reclaim it. I can never beg enough for your forgiveness-”

“Don’ you dare to start, then,” Oin interrupts. “Ori and I knew what we signed up for.”

Ori has both of his arms around his older brothers, all three crying quietly. In his own last moments, as he scratched out a recounting of their doom, Ori’s last thoughts had been that he hoped his brothers would be alright without him.

“Balin.” Thorin's voice cracked. “Why?”

Balin shakes his head, drawing a shuddering breath. “I don't know. Grief, maybe. Hubris, after we reclaimed Erebor. It's hard to remember why I felt it so important after all it took from us.”

“... If-if it helps,” Bilbo says, “Gimli was able to pass through with his company. He saw the mines of mithril, the great halls- Frodo said it was a wonder, for all the perils it brought them, and… all the grief.”

Balin is quiet for a moment, and then nods. “At least one Dwarf lived to see it, I suppose. But I hope he won't pass through it again in this life.”

“As if I'd let him,” Gloin says, mostly reassuring his brother. Oin nods thankfully.

“But that’s only three, four counting me.” Fili’s eyes travel the table, but they never land on the remainders- not until Kili puts his hand on his brother’s shoulder, and then looks to their uncle as well. Fili looks between them, paling. “No.”

“It won’t happen again.” Kili grips his brother’s shoulder tightly. “We’ll stick together, no matter what.”

“And with luck, kill Azog long before The Battle. I’m sure I couldn’t convince either of you to return home even I tried-”

“Not a chance of it,” the two princes say in unison. Forgiveness is unspoken but present, clear in the loyalty still shining in their eyes- and for now, in this moment of joyous reunion and somber planning, it keeps the guilt of the king at bay.

“Now uh, onto the business of The Ring. I'll have to find it again, to destroy it, of course.” Bilbo swallows thickly at the thought, so tantalizing yet so repulsive. He hates it, and loves it, in near equal measures- but he loves Frodo far more. “Which does mean we'll have to face the goblins again at the very least.”

It seems to jar the table, going back to the topic of travesty dealt across all of Middle-Earth and not just within their own Company.

“Can't you just leave it?” Kili looks to Gandalf. “Sauron can't conquer Middle-Earth without it, can he?”

“I would doubt it…” Gandalf looks skeptically at Bilbo. “But I think our hobbit has more to share.”

“Well, he did have help.” Bilbo scowls. “Saruman. Don't trust him, Gandalf. If I ever see himself I'll-” Bilbo puffs out a breath, so teeming with rage at the thought of the wicked wizard, of being face-to-face with someone so remorseless in their evil-!

“Saruman wouldn't aid Sauron,” Gandalf whispers, quickly and with no small amount of panic. “Not without a terrible plague on his mind!”

“Plague on his-! He made armies of tens of thousands and sent them to slaughter kingdoms! He sent out goblin-orc hybrids to capture my nephew! He tried to kill you and the rest of Frodo's Fellowship in an avalanche! Plague, ha! A common cold might be enough to turn him.”

“These are not accusations you can make lightly, Bilbo Baggins!”

“Gimli told me the same!” Gloin slams his fist onto the table. “He witnessed it! Fought in Helm's Deep alongside the king of Rohan, king of Gondor, even the elf! They all said the same!”

Gandalf looks near ill. “These are grave, grave tidings. How do we know you fourteen haven't been sent back by the very power your descendants sought to destroy? Only one power in this world has been known to raise the dead.”

“I have no intentions of aiding this filth,” Thorin spits. “If Sauron sent us back for some dark purpose, he’ll barely live to regret his decision.” He turns to Bilbo. “The Ring, what had it done to you? The old tales say it had a will of it's own.”

“It did worse to Frodo. But it did… have a hold, on me. From the moment I picked it up, it held enough sway to make me hide it from you all. I won't be able to take it to Mordor alone, I-I fear it would claim me more easily than it did Frodo.”

“I would go with you.” Thorin presses his forehead to Bilbo’s. “We all would, I'm sure of it.”

Resounding agreements fill the smial. All but Gandalf, who still looks so shaken by such news that he hardly seems to be focusing on the party in front of him.

“But after Erebor,” Bilbo says firmly once it quiets down. “The Battle thinned out Sauron's armies, it'll be an easier journey. Possibly. And-and with Smaug dead, Sauron will have a major blow to his plans, because they're in league, Smaug told me so the last time around. I didn't understand it at the time but, they are.”

“And what of my part in this?” Gandalf's voice is somber. “What path must I take?”

“Let me remember- you only told me this once in Valinor, and I was very old. … I believe you went to Dol Guldur, after a meeting with the White Council in Rivendell and after taking us to Mirkwood. I think- and I hope my memory is right- you said you were saved by Lady Galadriel.”

“Who my Gimli also charmed,” Gloin couldn't help but add. “She gave him three of her hairs! He asked for one, and she gave him three! Silver-tongued like no other. We should put him on your Council, Thorin.”

“In due time, Gloin. Bilbo, The Ring-”

“Will probably get a strong hold of me again. Even knowing what it was, I-I never, truly, rid myself of it's influence, neither did Frodo. Even now, I feel empty without it. But it has to be done, Thorin. I just ask you all watch me, and make sure I don't… don't make off with it.”

“It's a promise.” Thorin whispers the words almost reverently.

“... Are you two going to be together this time, then?” Dwalin asks suddenly, with all the subtlety of his usual endeavors. Bilbo’s mouth drops open and he looks at Thorin, who-

Well, who shares none of the shock, actually. Instead he has a soft smile. Bilbo’s mouth snaps shut, though his eyes remain wide, and he gives a quick nod. Thorin gives him a much less quick, reverently lingering kiss on the forehead, and coins are tossed about the table- an old, old bet, that had never seen a true conclusion, now finally fulfilled. Gandalf rubs his forehead. “One more surprise from this party and I shall go through the entire Shire’s worth of Old Toby before our journey even begins.”

#the hobbit #fanfic #my attempts at fanfic #bagginshield #bilbo baggins #thorin's company #the company of thorin oakenshield

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