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aerynwrites · 7 months

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Remember

Halsin x gn!Reader

A/N: thank you for the request @sabersandsnipers! I had so much fun writing this, and I hope you enjoy! See the request here.

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: kissing, love confessions, miscommunication, drunk reader, drunk confessions, morning hangovers/blurry memory, Halsin being a gentleman 🥰

The campfire burns brightly in the night, heating your already heated cheeks.

You all finally came across some good wine, pilfered from a wine cellar in a small abandoned town. Astarion practically melted as he read the labels. Practically glaring at you when you asked him what was so special.

“These are vintage darling. Practically liquid gold compared to the piss we’ve been drinking.”

Your other companions had happily helped tote crates of the stuff back to camp then, excited to finally indulge in the best, for once.

And it is the best. The best you’ve ever had for sure. At least in recent memory.

The wine is rich and decadent, passing your lips without that unpleasant burn the cheap stuff gives. It’s sweet and slides down easily - maybe a little too easily.

It turns your brain to figurative mush, your limbs starting to feel heavy despite the uncontrollable giggles slipping past your lips as Karlach acts out another one of her battle stories.

Your inhibitions have started to slip, especially those tied to your tongue. Because along with your giggles you’re unable to stop your flirtatious rambling to the druid sitting beside you at the fire. He is also taking part in the festivities, albeit more cautiously, only having had a single glass to your…

Well…you don’t know how many.

Another giggle slips past your lips as you lean into the man at your side, watching as Karlach flops down onto the ground in a reenactment of her downing an enemy. Wyll goes to help her up but is also unsteady on his feet and soon joins her in the dirt, both of them howling in laughter.

Halsin lets out a laugh of his own at their antics and you can’t stop the smile that tugs at your numb lips.

“I like your laugh,” you say, turning to look up at Halsin.

The man is taller than you even sitting down, so when he looks down to you, pieces of his hair fall forward into his face.

“My laugh?” He asks, a smile splitting his lips as he most likely finds enjoyment in your inebriated state.

You nod, leaning forward once more to rest your forehead against his chest, abandoning your goblet in favor of wrapping the man in a weak embrace.

“I just like you,” your words are slurred as you slump more into the larger man’s embrace. “And you smell good.”

Halsins chest rumbles with laughter beneath your cheek and it just further adds to the buzzing beneath your skin, even more so when you feel his hands grasp your arms gently.

Yet another thing you notice about him. His hands are calloused, roughened with years of using a weapon and tending the land and communing with nature. But he’s so…gentle. His smile, his words, his laugh, his entire being just screams safety.

It’s what draws you to him no matter how much you try to stay away. Which isn’t very much considering he has slowly started to reciprocate your attraction.

At least…you hope.

“I think it’s high time for you to get some rest,” Halsin says, moving to stand from his seat and guide you to do the same.

“What?” You ask, the world spinning slightly as you get to your feet. “But I’m having fun!”

The words are slurred as Halsin slips an arm around around your waist to steady you, slowly leading you away from the fire. You don’t miss the various whistles and hoots from your other companions as he does so.

Halsin smiles, not that you see it as you focus on putting one foot in front of the other as he leads you.

“I know you were, but it will be an ill-fated day tomorrow if you continue to drink.”

Despite your drunken state you recognize the wisdom in his words.

“You’re probably right, but -“ you pause as you struggle to take in your surroundings before you realize you’re being led away from your tent.

“Wait, my tent is that way,” you emphasize by pointing a staggering finger in the vague direction of your tent, a movement that causes your feet to twist up beneath you.

You would have fallen if it weren’t for the druid at your side stopping to catch you before opting to lift you into his arms instead.

“I know where your tent is located, but my tent is far closer.”

You hum in response, your head lolling backwards, eyes meeting the stars above you.

“I can walk, you know.”

Halsin laughs at this, shifting to support your head as he draws closer to his tent. “Your earlier attempts would disprove that statement.”

You pout your lip at him as he finally ducks into his tent. “You’re mean,” you say plainly.

“I apologize, little one.”

His words hold little apology but you don’t point it out as he finally lowers you to your feet, helping as you try to steady yourself. Only when he pulls away do you finally look up at him, and you take the moment of silence to take in the man before you.

He’s still smiling down at you, all while watching to make sure you keep your feet. His brows furrow slightly with every uneasy shift of your body, his hands tightening where they rest on your hips.

Without thinking you reach up, placing uncoordinated fingers against the scars that run over his brow. He stills at this, eyes widening for a moment before fluttering closed as you trail your fingers down. Your hand cups his cheek now, thumb running over where the scar ends just below his lips.

Lips you want nothing more than to kiss right now.

His eyes open then, as if sensing your questioning stare. You’ve both drifted closer to one another during this silent moment, your chests brushing together as you look up at him.

“Halsin?”

“Yes, my heart?”

Your breath stutters in your chest at the new nickname, and you can smell the faint scent of wine on his breath as he speaks.

“Can I kiss you?”

The words fall into silence, and you can practically feel the tension in the air dissipate as Halsin’s eyes close tightly, a sigh falling from his lips as he steps away from you slightly.

Your drunken mind moves before he speaks, making you stumble over your words.

“Oh that’s - I understand. I shouldn’t have asked, that was - I’m sorry I-“

Before you can ramble any further, Halsin has your face cradled in his hands, green eyes capturing your own.

“You misunderstand,” he tells you, thumbs brushing your cheek bones lightly. “I have wanted to kiss you, to touch you for longer than you can imagine,” he admits, eyes softening. “But I do not wish for our first kiss, our first coming together to be in the midst of a wine induced haze.”

He smiles.

“I want you to remember this, and I’m afraid in this state, you may wake tomorrow with no memory of tonight.” He moves to push a stray piece of hair from your face as one hand settles at the junction of your neck and shoulder. “I do not want to lose a moment with you.”

His words ease the anxiety roiling in your belly, and you find it in you to nod. The sentiment increases the heat in your cheeks once again.

Halsin smiles at your ascent, and gently leads you to bed. His bed roll is set up on top of a pile of furs which cradle your body perfectly where you all but flop onto it. Your earlier statement of not being tired is quickly erased as your eyelids begin to shut, sleep tugging at your mind as you settle into the soft bed.

The last thing you remember before slumber takes you is the feeling of warm hands trailing your arms before something soft covers you and one brief thought.

He feels the same.

——————

A pounding headache is what eventually wakes you from your slumber. Your mouth is dry, tongue laying thick in your mouth as you try and fail to swallow and wet your mouth. Your eyelids feel filled with sand as you peel them open, only to be met with darkness. The only light is from the sun seeping into the tent in thin slivers from the slightly parted tent flap.

You notice multiple things at once. First being that you’re not in your tent, but in Halsins. The second being the smattering of blurry memories from last night.

Oh Gods…I basically threw myself at him!

You remember that vaguely, asking to kiss him, and then the rest is…foggy. You remember him turning you down and then not much else afterwards.

Pushing yourself up on shaky arms you try to take in your surroundings, letting out a small sigh when you see Halsin isn’t in the tent with you. You can avoid embarrassment just a little longer, at least.

You quickly grab your shoes that you see at the end of the bedroll and after making sure the coast is clear you make your way across camp in the early morning light to your own tent.

The next few hours pass in a blur if periodic sleep and the eventuality of the camp stirring to life around you. A rude reminder that you can’t avoid a certain druid forever.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Karlach's voice pierces the air as she pokes her head into your tent. “Can you take firewood duty? We’re running low.”

You nod quickly. You might not be able to avoid the inevitable but…maybe a little longer.

————

The woods are quiet, this time of day, morning starting to give way to midday as you wander through the trees, gathering suitable logs for camp.

However, the tranquility of nature gives your mind time to wander back to last night, desperately trying to force memories to light. But no matter how hard you try, nothing new comes to light. Just you embarrassing yourself in front of the man who’s captured your affections.

You sigh, before gasping as the toe of your boot catches on an exposed root, your thoughts distracting you from your surroundings. The wood in your arms teeters precariously and just about falls to the forest floor before you feel two strong hands steady you.

“You look as if you could use some help,” a familiar voice says, and your stomach flips as Halsin comes to stand in front of you, smiling down at you. “Here.”

He reaches out to take the wood from you before you can protest, the pile that nearly filled your arms looking tiny against his larger frame.

You want to become defensive, but stop yourself before you can snap. Your anger is misdirected to him when you’re really upset with yourself.

You give the man a small smile. “Thank you,” you say before gesturing back towards camp. “I think that should be enough for now, we can head back.”

Halsin just nods before moving in step beside you as you both make the short trek back to camp. Neither of you speak at first - you too anxious to bring anything up and Halsin is probably too polite to do the same.

At least you thought.

“You were gone from my tent when I arrive back from a hunt this morning,” he says simply. An observation. Yet it feels like an accusation, or at least a question. But you almost feel like you can hear…disappointment in his words. Hurt.

You don’t look at him, embarrassment blooming in your chest again. You shrug. “I just…figured I’d save us both the awkward embarrassment.”

You’re at the edge of camp now, and you stop next to the dwindling wood pile and start unloading pieces from Halsin arms onto the ground.

“I’m sorry about last night,” you finally say, avoiding his gaze still. “I shouldn’t have drank so much and I definitely shouldn’t have put you on the spot and I just thought that if I left this morning it would save you from having to turn me down again and-“

The last piece of wood falls from your hands as you fumble over your words, but a steadying hand quickly reaches out to grab your own before you can move to pick it up again.

Finally, you turn to look at Halsin, and you’re taken aback to see…amusement twinkling In his eyes, his lips tugging up into a small grin.

“So you do not remember last night?” He asks, head tilting to the side slightly.

You shake your head, frowning. “I mean I don’t - I remember some of it. I remember asking to - to kiss you…” you cringe slightly at the hazy memory. “And then I remember you pulling away and-“

Before you can ramble any further, callused hands cup your cheeks and soft lips capture your own.

A memory comes to you then, as if Halsins touch alone makes it resurface. You remember what you thought was his rejection, then his confession, then his kind words after.

“I want you to remember this.”

He didn’t reject you. He returns your affections, and has for some time now it seems.

You finally kiss him back, your hands falling to his waist and gripping the fabric of his shirt in your hands. He pulls you closer then, lips moving against yours in a way that screams desperation. He’s been holding back for so long, and so have you.

But not anymore.

Yet he pulls away all too soon, leaving you breathless and wide eyed as you look up at him, still gripping onto him as if you’re afraid he’ll disappear if he steps away.

“I don’t think I could have forgotten a kiss like that,” you say, voice soft.

Halsin laughs, a quiet chuckle as his thumb runs soothingly over your cheekbone.

“I will not forget this moment either,” he assures. “But I did not want to risk losing it to the haze of last evening. These things are better enjoyed with a clear mind.”

You can’t help but laugh, despite the seriousness of his words. “You’re not wrong in that,” you say, reaching up to trace gentle fingers over the scars on his brow.

Another memory flickers to mind and you smile as you watch Halsins eyes flutter closed, just like they did last night.

“Halsin,” his name is a whisper on your lips.

He smiles, eyes blinking open once more. “Yes, my heart?”

Gods that nickname.

“Can I kiss you?”

He pulls you closer, nose brushing your own. “You never have to ask, little one. My heart is yours.”

And then his lips are on yours again, and you're silently glad he made you wait. Because he was right.

You don’t want to lose a moment with him, either.

#halsin x reader #bg3 x reader #bg3 halsin x reader #bg3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 halsin #halsin

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sabersandsnipers · 6 months

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The King of Caregiving

You are a skilled warrior. Some have even called you the commander of death. Enemies tremble when they hear your name. You have always managed to maintain an image of strength, and focus.

But all that goes to shit when alcohol gets involved. You turn into a mushy, bubbly mess. It’s only happened a handful of times. Getting drunk means letting your guard down, and that’s unacceptable to you.

But the ale at the tavern was too good to turn down. You can’t remember the last time you had a drink that tasted this good. The warmth creeping through you is a welcome feeling after the events of the last few weeks.

The only development as of late that doesn’t fill you with frustration and hate is thanks to Halsin. You’ve been able to draw closer to him, which is something you’ve been craving to do for a while. But the differences in your personalities led you to believe he wouldn’t be interested. He emits pure warmth and light. His words are filled with kindness and despite his skill in battle, he has a gentle hand.

You on the other hand…a different story entirely. People tend to keep their distance from you. Even your companions give you a healthy amount of space on a bad day. It’s not like you’re trying to be mean, sometimes you just can’t stop yourself from blurting out your cranky thoughts.

And somehow, you managed to catch Halsin’s eye despite your angry tendencies. Maybe it was because he was the only one that managed to calm you, to keep your anxieties and anger at bay. The two of you just clicked. You complimented each other in a way you had never experienced before. You never allowed yourself to slow down long enough to cultivate a relationship.

But it was good. Whatever you had with Halsin right now had you smiling like some idiotic bard. A small part of you was infuriated with yourself for falling so quickly, but Halsin’s attention overpowered any of these negative thoughts.

And it’s the thought of Halsin’s attention that has you giggling as you and Karlach stumble back to camp. Your limbs feel like jelly and your brain feels like it could slide right out of your ears. All of your heightened senses have been numbed, and for once, you’re enjoying it.

Giving Karlach a sloppy hug and slurring a goodnight, you begin stumbling toward your tent. But a tug in your mind stops you. You slowly turn your gaze to Halsin’s tent, evil thoughts beginning to breed in your inebriated mind. You let out another giggle as you move to Halsin’s tent, trying to be quiet but failing epically.

You attempt to move the flaps leading into the tent, but instead trip over your own feet and fall directly through the entrance. A fit of laughter rips through you. Your abdomen cramps at the sheer force of your laugh.

“Tav?”

Your laughs die down a bit as you sit yourself up, your eyes moving to a very confused Halsin laying in his bed roll. You admire his bare chest, the chiseled muscles making your mouth water. You crawl your way over to him and straddle his lap.

A small smile grows on his lips. “It seems like you had a good time with Karlach,” he notes, taking in your disheveled state.

You hiccup. “Mhm.” You take in every feature of his face, from the scars reaching into his hairline to the shape of his lips. Gods, this man is beautiful.

Leaning down, you softly press your lips to his. His chest feels so strong under your touch. You wait for the feeling of his hands on you, but it never comes.

He chuckles against your lips as your hands begin to slide down his abdomen. “Eager are we?”

“I need you,” you tell him, breaking the kiss so you can take in his expression. Usually his eyes are filled with desire, but instead you’re met with their usually calming warmth.

He smoothes your hair back with his hands, and then gently holds your face. “You should rest, little one.”

You whine, grasping onto his forearms. “I don’t want to!”

He laughs, and a twinge of annoyance flickers in you. “Don’t laugh at me!” you insist. “Is not funny!” Your words begin to slur more.

He smothers his laugh, but still grins. One of his thumbs traces along your cheekbone. “We can do this another time, hm? When we both can truly enjoy every sensation.”

You want to argue with him, but you can’t deny the increasing weight of your eyelids. He notices the way you sway in his lap, fatigue beginning to overtake you. He lifts you up a bit and helps you into his bedroll. His body is so warm and inviting that you barely register your head hitting the pillow before you’re asleep.

When you wake, your eyes scrunch up at the pounding in your skull. Your stomach rolls at the sensation, and you clamp your teeth shut as the first wave of nausea passes. A groan builds from deep within you. Your head feels as if it’s been kicked by a horse.

You attempt to sit up, ignoring the building pain. You take in your surroundings. There are carvings of ducks in various stages of completion. There’s a glass jar of honey that sits on a table.

Halsin’s tent. The memories of last night wash over you. You cringe at your actions. Covering your face with your hands, you groan in complete and utter humiliation.

The moment only gets worse when Halsin walks in, looking as gorgeous as ever. You can feel heat flushing your cheeks as he walks over to you, two steaming mugs in his hands.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, handing a mug to you. His voice is soft.

You avoid his gaze. “Like death.”

A light chuckle leaves his lips as he sits next to you on the bedroll. “Legend has it that you consider death a friend.”

Steam rises steadily from the mug in your hands. “Well none of this feels particularly friendly.” You sniff at the liquid.

“That should help with the pain,” he tells you.

You finally look at him, gratitude surging through you. Your cheeks still feel flushed under his gaze. Bringing the mug to your lips, you take a tentative sip.

Hints of lemon and honey hit your tongue. You sigh at the taste, savoring the sensation of the warm liquid sliding down to your belly.

The pounding in your skull already seems to be lightening. The rolling of your stomach ceases. You glance at Halsin, a mixture of both anxiety and thankfulness rumbling in you.

“Thank you, Halsin,” you tell him. You shrink in on yourself under his gaze. What a brave warrior you are, feeling small because of a Druid.

You force yourself to keep speaking. “And I’m sorry about last night. I can’t believe I acted like that.” An uncomfortable heat begins to creep through your bones as you keep going. “You wanted a strong, focused woman and instead you got a messy drunk last night.”

Sunlight peeks in through the flaps of the tent and dances along his hair, brightening it. You wait for his reaction, unsure of what he’s thinking.

Then he reaches out to you and gently grasps your hand. His eyes seem to be alight with flame. "I didn't want you because of your reputation. Not because of the legends I heard of your victories or the tales of your strength." He pauses a moment as his thumb traces along your knuckles. "I want you for the woman I see within. The woman who cares passionately for her companions, and would die for them without hesitation."

He moves a bit closer to you, and your hand brushes his knee. "I want you for the selfless and loving woman I've come to know. Not for the legend I've heard of for years."

Your heart pounds at his words. Every inch of your skin seems to tingle as he looks at you. It's almost uncomfortable, this feeling of vulnerability, if it weren't for Halsin's ability to make you feel safe.

You clear your throat. "Well I'm glad I didn't scare you away then."

He laughs. The sound of it makes your very soul feels as if it's blooming into something brighter. "It's going to take a lot more to scare me off. In fact, I think I like feeling a bit intimidated by you."

He's so close to you now. You can feel the heat radiating off of him. His hand still grasps yours, and you savor the way his calloused palms feel against your skin.

"Will you lay with me?" you ask him. His face brightens at your request.

"Always."

He slides in next to you, pulling you into his chest. He smells of the woods after a heavy rainfall, and just a bit like honey as well. His fingers begin to trace up and down your spine. And you feel your eyes beginning to grow heavy at the comfort of it all.

No one in your past has made you feel this way, but you force yourself to admit you may be growing a soft spot for Halsin.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #halsin #halsin x reader #halsin imagine #Halsin x Tav

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bg-brainrot · 2 months

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As @cosmicchocomuffin suggested!

Which class/subclass each BG3 character would play in D&D (with a little explanation):

Astarion: Draconic Sorcerer - he would pick a character that comes with power innately, no god, no pact, no strings attached, and he would pick draconic for the eventual flight. Also he would want a high Cha character so that he can attempt to be the face of the party.

Gale: Artillerist Artificer - he would pick another Int based class of course, and, as for Artillerist, he still enjoys being useful, so he'd like the fire power this subclass affords. He would take time every day to ensure his infusions are prepared for the day, not allowing the party to proceed without them.

Karlach: Circle of the Moon Druid - she loves animals and nature and would love to transform into them, but wouldn't want to deal with all of those pesky spells, hence the Circle of the Moon. She would definitely be the cause of half of the chaotic druid wildshape memes online.

Lae'zel: Way of the Astral Self Monk - she would pick monk because they're respected martial warriors, pick the subclass because of its potential to reach enlightenment. But to the surprise of no one, she actually gets really into her character to the point of drawing a blade on the DM (Withers).

Shadowheart: Assassin Rogue - the classic lone wolf class and given all of her Sharran training, she would pick this subclass for the ease of roleplay it offers, with its disguise and mimicry. She starts out aloof, but quickly divulges the entire 12-page backstory she created for her character.

Wyll: Monster Slayer Ranger - he heard people looked down on rangers and decided to give them a chance, then he saw Monster Slayer was an option and knew he picked right. The actual face of the party, simply because he's the only one capable of staying on track-- however, put him in front of a cool monster and you've lost him too.

Non-Origins:

Halsin: Nature Domain Cleric - as someone who loves to help others, he would pick a class with a greater lean to the healing side of magic and with a bit of the same druid utility, then pick the subclass to still have that connection to nature. He will happily go along with whatever the party wants to do, and has ended up in jail a few times for it.

Minthara: Order of the Profane Soul Blood Hunter - she would love a class that's willing to go to any extent to defeat their enemies, like a blood hunter, and the order of the Profane Soul just cranks that up all the more. She would be the classic murder hobo of the group if left unchecked, but she will back off when the rewards are good enough.

Jaheira: Battle Master Fighter - she would go for a classic, reliable class like fighter, with a subclass that utilizes her battle knowledge like Battle Master. She is definitely a guest player, who the DM taps in for a difficult boss fight or arc, so she somehow still ends up the mentor figure in the game.

Minsc: Path of the Beast Barbarian - he wouldn't play something too complicated, hence the Barbarian, and he would love to understand Boo better, so he'd pick the subclass for the Beast abilities that come with this subclass. He would never quite know what he's doing, but makes the best accidental one liners at the table so no one minds helping.

Disclaimer: I only picked stuff I at least have the sourcebooks for. While some extra stuff looked cool, I wasn't familiar enough to get the vibes properly.

#bg3 #baldur's gate #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #gale #karlach #lae'zel #shadowheart #wyll #halsin #minthara #jaheira #minsc #dnd #dungeons and dragons #dnd classes #this was fun to do hehe #i think they would never get past level 5 but they have a good time #withers tpks them when he gets bored of it

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oops-all-concrete · 4 months

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Okay, BG3 fandom, I have had sweet thoughts and would like to share them; Companions reacting to Tavs hiding an injury until they couldn't keep it to themselves anymore/the companions put together that they're hurting. (Companions aren't romanced, but GETTING there)

Tooth rotting fluff in a text wall under the cut, enjoy

Lae'zel -

Lae'zel is annoyed, but in the "Don't fight me when I'm trying to love you without saying it" kind of way. She'll say "This isn't battle strategic, there is no advantage this offers us" but the whole camp knows what she means while she aggressively dresses your wound and tells you to stop whining. If Tav wakes up in the middle of the night to find her guarding their tent like a loyal dog, they didn't see anything as far as she cares.

Shadowheart -

Similarly to Lae'zel, Shadowheart is a little annoyed, but Shadowheart can admit she's worried. "You should have told me. I'd have taken care of this immediately" She tells Tav, healing the wound with a small prayer. She makes them promise to say something in the future, even if only for her sake. "This journey has been treacherous. I'd like the one good thing that's come of it to survive with me"

Wyll -

"Promise me you're not going to make a habit of that" He insists, dressing your wounds with a tense expression. "I'd like you to flourish at my side. And I can't be certain you're doing that when you hide things like this." He admits, apparent worry in his voice, gentle movements, a warning for every touch. He's a hard man to feel uncomfortable around. Tav can practically feel the care radiating off him with every patient smile.

Karlach -

She gives Tav the least flack for keeping it to yourself. "Woah soldier, let's take a break and look at that, yeah?" She suggests, keeping the worry out of her voice quite well. She knows they're hiding it for a reason and tries not to make them feel worse for failing to hide it. She just tries to make Tav as comfortable as possible so they might feel at ease enough to tell her next time.

Gale -

The man basically mothers Tav through the healing process. Insists they're off their feet, won't budge on Tav resting and cleans their wounds and changes bandages around the clock. "As much peril as we are in every day, I'd like if you kept even the smaller injuries out in the open." He explains one night. "As small as any harm seems when compared to impending ilithid doom, it's still harm. Much more, it's harm we can fix. Harm I'd like to fix. Ah- assuming you'll let me"

Astarion -

Sounds inconvenienced, will not sit still while you're unwell. He'll hang around and poke fun but won't let them get up for anything. "I mean, how have you even managed that" he says, handing Tav fresh water. "I know you're clumsy, but surely you could have avoided that" he chuckles, handing you another book to draw in/read. "I'll remember this next time you say you have an idea" He rolls his eyes cutting up food and feeding them personally. Anyone asks? "Well, I can't just let them suffer can I? They'll never shut up"

Bonus! (Our older folks)

Halsin -

"That looks painful...you needn't be in pain you know, I can carry you quite easily" He offers. If Tav truly doesn't want help, he can't/won't make them, but he will hover and puppy-dog-eyes at them until they cave. The man will let Tav use him for warmth in the night while they recover and carry them to the pond to bathe as well. Really, Tav could ask anything of him, he'd do it in a heartbeat.

Jaheira -

"I don't even send Harpers out in that condition if I can help it. You'll sit and relax, yes?" She says. Not asks, because she's not asking. "I mean, what if this got infected, or started swelling? Would you just wait for death like a bird falling out of the sky?" She rolls her eyes playfully. She doesn't hesitate to ask for help on Tavs behalf either. "If they'd judge you for being hurt, they're not worthy allies...if they'd judge you for suffering in silence however, that makes them good friends"

Minsc -

"Boo says this should take care of your battle scars. You'll take it yes? When a hamster gives advice, it's bad luck not to take it" he smiles handing Tav whatever potion variant needed. He's overall jovial about it, casual and moves on quickly. Wether that's out of courtesy for Tavs pride or simply because he's a kind man with a hollow head, nobody can truly say.

Hope you enjoyed <3 (and Happy Holidays)

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loveandfictionforall · 8 months

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Hello im on a bg3 binge and i found your stellar writing! My request is a little interesting, how about the crew with a ranger who’s been “blessed” by a nature god with beastly vigor(regeneration), incredible sense of smell, communicate with beasts, and has retractable bone claws? (Yes essentially wolverine)

I wasn't sure who exactly you meant, so I just wrote some general ones about everyone.

- Halsin would be proud to be a member of your crew. He would want to prowl with you as animals through the forest and would be deeply honored to walk beside a blessed child. He feels like you especially could understand the burden of their God.

- Astarion would notice your power. It would draw him in at first, after all you were a sight to behold and on your side he would win most battles. But after some times he wouldn't be able to just use you. Somewhere along the lines he began being proud to be a member of your crew, caring in shadows because he can understand the negatives of your power. Just like a slave to another.

- Karlach would love to ride on you once. I mean, in your beast form of course. But beside that, she loves formidable leaders and gladly follows your lead through this unusual quest.

- Wyll would care for your pain. Oversensitive senses can hurt a lot and to be able to heal very quickly was nice on the outside but through how much pain did you have to go on your regular day? He would be worried about the side effects or risks of being blessed, but can understand why you did it - after all he did also a pact.

- Shadowheart would be torn. You cared and worked for another god and that is a thought she doesn't like but also to be blessed by a god is a big honor and something she wants to achieve too.

- Lae'zel likes your power and strength. She will gladly walk along your side so long you are making the good choices, after all she doesn't care for any god.

- Gale would feel like you could understand his burden. He would talk to you a lot (whether you want to talk about it or not). Often he would ask for details, wanting to understand but also gain maybe a new power.

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eupheme · 7 months

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sneak peek of a new wip that I am suddenly 5k deep in, after being bitten by the bg3 bug! 💕 I had this idea of the grove druids celebrating a spring fertility festival, with druid!tav/reader learning about it and joining Halsin in the woods 👀🌲

[edit: fic is here!]

"Is it just the Solstice that draws you to me?" Is it just duty that has ensnared his affections? Is this no more than fulfilling the desires of Silvanas?

He laughs, with a shake of his head, "If our first meeting had been in the Grove, your beauty would have been more than enough to enthrall me."

The knowledge is flattering. That he still would have wanted you, in another life, in another time. His next words are enough to cast the rest of your doubts aside.

"But make no mistake. For quite some time now, I have desired more. Deeper than the skin, down to the marrow." He brings your entwined fingers to his mouth, his lips pressing against your knuckles, "I fear you stole more than gold that day, in the Sanctum."

There is much that he reveals, with his words.

A sense that your feelings are more than reciprocated. A reminder that he does not mince words, like others you have known.

For as keen as your eyes are, you should have realized this sooner. The last curl of unease lifts, wafting up to stars above.

“How do we begin?”

“Eager. I like that.” Halsin grins - his eyes dragging over you, as his voice pitched low, “For one… you are overdressed.”

#I love him your honor #but honestly god this game - I am having so much fun and I adore Druids and just all the lore in this!! the characters!!!#halsin x reader #Halsin x you #halsin x mc #halsin x tav #bg3 halsin

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celemee · 6 months

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"Don't come any closer."

Anyone. Please.

You'll regret asking for this. 😅

My male Durge Raven x Enver Gortash. Deathfic. [ao3]

-----

Silence reigns deep underground, coalescing where Raven kneels. Mud seeping through his leathers, so cold. So wet.

Wet like his cheeks. The inexplicable hiccups wracking his body as he… sobs?

Has he ever cried before?

Fingers trace the cool cheek of the only person who could have told him. The last to know him, before… all this.

Enver lies at his feet, face blackened by the Nether Brain's bolt. Silent. Unmoving. His eyes never again lighting up with recognition — with unmistakable love.

"Who are you?" Raven whispers, finger drawing the shape of his lips. "Who were we?"

The answer swells in his chest till he feels the limits of his bones, like on the day of their reunion, but it doesn't satisfy.

What good is his love now? What use is it, when all he wants lies dead at his feet? When even Withers can't undo what's been done to his Enver?

Such a petty, monochrome death. Wholly unsuited a soul like his.

A tear falls from his face, dissolving onto Enver's. Raven straddles him, leans in close till they're chest to chest, cheek to cheek. The cold flesh so… wrong.

It was never meant to be this way. He doesn't know where the knowledge bubbles up from, but it takes hold. Firm, as his grip on Enver's arms. Even in his darkest days he couldn't have wanted this.

A kiss to his lover's ear. Something tells him that's right and good. The dark hair so soft against his face — he pulls in a breath, reminded of the home he can't picture. The scent like a balm to his aching heart — till he recalls the circumstances.

Raven draws back, sobbing freely once more, studying the dear face through the blur of tears. How did they meet? How did they become?

Enver told him, spoke through nights and explained in detail, but it's not enough. If only he could reach inside of himself and unlock the memories. Understand why he's crouched here, holding onto a corpse for dear life. Wanting nothing more than to join him.

What purpose is left for him?

He leans in once more, closing his eyes as arms wrap around Enver's head. Cheek to forehead as he cradles him in a vain attempt at warming him. Lips kissing a plea into Enver's hair for any deity to hear; unite them again.

"Raven," a familiar voice stirs him.

Halsin.

A heartbreak of his own in his eyes when Raven growls; "Don't come any closer."

The elf pauses several paces away, looking on in silence.

Raven swallows hard, breathes Enver in — holds him so hard it would hurt if… if he lived. A pang of regret runs through him at the thought; he loosens his grip.

"I'm so sorry, my love," he whispers into the hair that's turning matted from snot and tears. Ruined by him. Dead. Because of him. "I didn't mean to hurt you. You know I never would, not on purpose."

Halsin kneels in his peripheral vision, still quiet.

Raven nestles into the crook of Enver's neck, ruining yet another part of him with the grief that's both alien and viscerally his own. He doesn't know how long he prays — but no-one listens. Silence from Bane. Cold shoulder from Bhaal. Echoing emptiness from Myrkul, and less still from every other name he can recall.

"Raven," Halsin says, cautiously. "Let me help you."

It's strange, hearing him so uncertain. But before Raven can formulate a response, he continues; "He doesn't belong here in the sewers."

Raven swallows, lifting his head from his comfortable hiding place — the crook that feels made for him. Can't see Halsin's eyes from the unfocused mess of his own, but he's right. He'd forgotten. They're deep underground — surrounded by filth and indignity. Wholly unfitting the would-be king in his arms, his dearest co-ruler.

Unfitting for Halsin, too. Sweet, kind, honey-eyed Halsin, quiet and patient at the scene of Raven's tragedy.

Every extremity trembles as he lifts to his feet, hands reluctant to let go. An awful, deep sob wracks through him before he can breathe again — from here, the signs of life are so plainly absent.

A warm hand rests on his shoulder — a reminder he himself still lives. Bears the burden of responsibility, this grim duty to his other half.

He watches as the strong arms lift Enver by his armpits. Draws in a breath when his lover's head lolls forward, the pride and brilliance dimmed to mechanical responses to gravity.

Halsin rights it, the gesture so small and yet so meaningful. Raven's arms lock around Enver's thighs, determined to see this through. Eyes fixed on his fallen purpose.

There's no plan. No sight of a future, no hope for a past uncovered. No light at the end of the tunnel. Every breath in his chest stolen and wrong.

This… won't suffice. This can't be the end — they'd only just begun again. There must be a way.

He has to find it.

#baldur's gate #enver gortash #the dark urge #durgetash #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #the dark urge x enver gortash #fanfic #my writing #oc: ravendras #tw death #the dark urge x halsin

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fridaypls · 9 days

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Another sketch for the graveyard. Too used to drawing Astarion, not used to beefy druid arms. Might take another crack at lumberjack Halsin another day.

#halsin bg3 #bg3 halsin #baldurs gate halsin #halsin #daddy halsin #halsin silverbough #dave jones #archdruid halsin #halsin fanart #baldur's gate fanart #bg3 fanart #baldurs gate fanart #baldur’s gate fanart #my art #my artwork #I'm sorry I REALLY fucked the arms #I really did try to fix them but it just kept getting worse #artwork #art wip

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fandom-go-round · 5 months

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Hi, bebe! I would love a thing on how each of the magic-using bg3 party members feel when they're channeling their different kinds of magic through their bodies to cast it, both physically and emotionally--i.e. druidic magic and channeling nature for Halsin, Shadowheart and her divine casting, Wyll and the power he draws from his Patron, Gale and what it's like for him to manipulate the Weave. One thing I'd love to see with Shadowheart in particular is the ways in which it feels different for her to channel divinity from different goddesses as her relationship to the divine changes. Thank you so much!

Warnings: Act 2 Spoilers, Act 3 Spoilers, Shadowheart Quest Spoilers, Gale Quest Spoilers, Halsin Quest Spoilers, Wyll Quest Spoilers, Magic Talk, Implied Self Image Issues, Relationship Issues (Gale)

Halsin:

His magic feels like a warm breeze, grass between your toes, laying in a sun patch. Casting druid magic always feels like the earth is responding, reaching out to the call. It’s one of the reasons Halsin loves being a druid so much. Nothing makes you feel connected to life than the world responding to your pull. It’s more complicated than that of course and the type of spell also means a lot. Healing magic is like warm water, rolling across wounds. It can cause people to jump in surprise if they’re used to divine healing magic which is more of a ‘sinking into the skin’ sensation.

Being in the shadow cursed lands makes everything hard. Summoning the power of the land is nearly impossible so it pulls more from the caster. Halsin focuses mostly on changing shape than complicated spells; it feels like spell slots go twice as fast. He has to admire the other druids who make it look easy. Part of his issue is that he’s distracted by Thaniel; with so much to focus on, magic is hard to come by.

Baldur’s Gate is easier and harder at the same time. It’s easy to find life in the city but only humanoid life. There are patches of plant life here and then but it’s a weak cry to the forests he’s been living in the last hundred years. Halsin finds it jarring to be around as so many people and longs for more open spaces. He takes small pleasures in warm bathes and interesting food but it can feel hollow. He’ll never say it but he enjoys breaking the cobblestones with his spells when he has to fight, letting nature push its way through. He’s not going to tear the city down but he knows that he can’t stay permanently. The sooner her can feel grass between his toes, the better.

Shadowheart:

Shar’s magic feels like a crisp breeze; it can feel jarring but also makes her feel more alert. Little the first nipping of winter on her cheeks. A pinch on the cheek from a teasing relative. The cold keeps her alert on a normal day. The magic makes her numb eventually; after a long day Shadowheart feels like she’ll never get warm again. She does find it comforting and to feel close to her Lady is something that she wants every day.

After she renounces Lady Shar, magic feels empty. It’s almost worse than the cold sinking into her bones. The feeling of going to call for a spell and simply feeling void; it would be funny if it wasn’t so cruel. There is a god that answers (she can still cast magic) but she tries not to think about it too much; she’s not ready to commit herself to another god yet. It makes it hard to be a cleric and she’s in pain on two fronts; losing her god and also her purpose.

Where Shar’s magic was cool, Selune’s is warm. The first time she feels the connection Shadowheart doesn’t finish the spell, the surge of warmth making her panic. To feel safe and warm makes her want to cry but she pushes through, healing Karlach so fast most don’t even notice her hesitation. Warm hands cupping her cheeks, a hand on her shoulder. She’s in awe that worshipping can feel this good and has to sit with that. Devoting herself feels easy when it’s like standing in the sun.

Wyll:

Wyll’s magic always has a heat to it. Even if it’s an ice spell, his fingers tingle like being held too close to the fire. It makes sense, he figures, since his powers do come from a devil. He was never someone who thought he would wield magic but the longer he has the powers, the more he enjoys it. They give him the power to protect people and what he loves. How can you not appreciate them, even when he’s on the edge of falling in deeper?

The issue is that the magic changes, over time. The first few years it’s a warm tingle and now, after seven, the flames are licking up his arms. Wyll feels tired after he casts a spell, even as he’s able to cast more spells. It feels like the magic is an inferno and could swallow him whole. It’s a blessing when he first gets the tadpole, it blocks some of the heat and makes it easier to think. It’s during this period he realizes the truth; the magic is wearing on him. Physically and mentally.

Wyll has to decide if he’s going to keep the magic or try to get out of his deal. His Infernal powers are addicting in the best and worst ways, like stretching a muscle and feeling the burn. He wants the power to save people and he does a damn good job at it. If he loses his magic, then what? Wyll knows he’ll still be a hero but if he can save more people… it’s not something that he’ll decide just yet but it weighs on his mind the entire journey.

Gale:

The Weave is something that Gale can’t live without. It’s one of the constants in his life and tapping into it is almost as easy as breathing. Sometimes it’s easier. When he was with Mystra it felt like every time he cast a spell he could smell her, feel her all around him. A comforting embrace that shielded him from the outside world. If he felt lonely with her, it was worth it to feel wonderful doing magic. To push himself deeper and deeper into study so that he could feel good again. Was it healthy? Maybe not. And that’s a hard pill to swallow, even years later. But in the moment, it felt like everything he ever wanted.

After her has the orb, magic feels like a vice. The comforting hand turns into a clenched fist and Gale has to stumble through learning to cast even minor spells. It’s like wading through mud in the dark; he’s lost and the Weave threatens to consume him entirely. The first few times he pleads with his goddess to set him free, to help ease the burden but she doesn’t reply. Eventually, he learns how to navigate these new feelings. The sensation of being swallowed turns more into water lapping at his ankles, cold and icy.

The Weave will never feel the same way again and Gale accepts that. After the crown, after the tadpole, he’s happy to be able to touch magic and not feel pain. It’s not longer a lover’s embrace anymore and he needs that, to heal. It’s still warm, still comforting but more like a pair of gloves than entangled bodies. He has a lot of feelings about Mystra but he does still respect her and he’s glad that she respects him. The Weave makes him feel whole and it’s not something he’s going to take advantage of again.

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its-jaytothemee · 2 months

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Tonight...And Every Night - Chapter 3

Pairing: Astarion x Tav, Halsin x Tav; Astarion and Tav POVs

Word count: 1,042; Chapter 3, Astarion POV

Rating: Mature

Read on AO3

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Summary: Tav fails to convince Astarion to reject the Rite of Profane Ascension and refuses to help him complete it. He leaves her and the party, but regrets his choices later. Angsty and fluffy, POVs from both Astarion and Tav.

Tags: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Spawn!Astarion, Angst w/ Happy Ending

Author's Note: This was inspired by my playthrough where I somehow failed all of the persuasion checks for Astarion after the Cazador fight, leaving me obviously devastated. First three chapters will come together, then hopefully one or two at a time after that!

Astarion grabbed a cloak from one of the many wardrobes in the familiar palace as he ran from the dungeon. Tears were streaming down his face, streaking the blood splattered over his cheeks and neck, shame boiling up in him like an overflowing pot of stew. He pushed the feeling down as far as he could.

‘I can’t think about that now…’ he thought to himself, ‘I have to get out of here…’

He knew Tav was right, he knew it the moment he had Cazador at his mercy, kneeling before him like Astarion had been forced to so many times before. There was something about being back here, something that awakened something dark and hateful within him, something that even his sweet Tav couldn’t draw out of him. It was intoxicating. But now, like a bad hangover after a long night of drinking, he was sobering up and returning to the nightmare in which he lived. And like a bad hangover, he felt disoriented even in the place he lived…no…was held captive for two hundred years. He kept running, bursting through doors until he found the one that let the sun shine on his face.

Another memory hit him like a punch to the gut. Feeling the sun for the first time after the nautiloid crash, waiting for the light to reduce him to ash. But it didn’t. For the first time in two hundred years, he was able to feel the warmth of the sun. Better yet, he felt no compulsion or presence from Cazador, yet he had no idea that it still wouldn’t be the best thing to happen to him that day.

Tav…

His thoughts wandered back to her. Tav, who had shown him nothing but kindness and compassion. Tav, who had held him through nightmares, sacrificing her own rest to make sure he felt safe. Tav, who constantly stood up for him with companions and strangers alike. Tav, the first person in two centuries to love him. And he told her that he hoped she died screaming. At one time, Astarion had wondered if her forgiveness and compassion knew any bounds but now, he knew he had found them. He swore to her that he was done manipulating her, done using her. And yet when he finally had the chance to repay her for everything she had done for him, he threw that kindness back in her face. Worse still, he actually hit her, just for trying to comfort him. He was mortified with himself. He saw the pain in her face when he left her in stunned silence. In that moment, he thought about turning back, running to her and apologizing, asking for her forgiveness, swearing every oath that he would change for her, but he knew he couldn’t. Even if she found it in her heart to forgive him, if she welcomed him back and still loved him, he knew the others wouldn’t feel the same. They all cared for her so deeply in a way they could never care for him. As much as he had come to admire and respect his companions, none of them had the same kind heart as Tav. He saw the hate in Gale’s eyes as he stormed away, the disappointment clouding Shadowheart’s face, the disgust as Halsin had ripped the staff out of Astarion’s hands. Tav’s strength didn’t just come from her skill with a blade, it came from her incredible desire and ability to bond with others. Everyone they had met on their journey immediately trusted her and loved her, Astarion was no exception. He was just the one arsehole that didn’t deserve her.

He kept running along the lower city wall until he found the stairs to take him back below to the city. His muscles were aching, so he quickly found a divot in the wall where he could crouch down and catch his breath. The citizens passed him by, taking him for another beggar or refugee. He sat down and pulled his knees up to his chest, gathering his cloak around himself. Burying his face in the fabric, he desperately tried to keep his grief from consuming him. He had nowhere to go, no family, no friends…nothing.

‘You have no one to blame but yourself you selfish arse.’ He berated himself.

Minutes passed, maybe hours as he huddled in the dark recess of the wall. Suddenly he heard footsteps that were oddly familiar. He heard soft sounds emerging from the same doorway he had burst through earlier. His chest felt heavy again as he recognized the voices.

“We could go and find something to eat? You look famished, my friend.”

“That’s okay, Gale. I don’t have much of an appetite at the moment.” A small, raspy voice responded.

He cautiously peered his head around the corner to see Tav, Halsin, Gale, and Shadowheart walking not 10 paces away from him. The sight of Tav in her current state was more painful than any wound Cazador had inflicted on him. Her eyes were puffy and bright red, tear streaks lined her cheeks, her eyes were fixated on the ground in front of her. She was shuffling her feet as she walked, shoulders slumped forward. She clung to Halsin as if he was the only thing able to keep her upright. Even from his hiding spot he could hear how ragged her breaths were, each one seeming to bring another wave of exhaustion.

‘Gods above…’ he thought to himself.

He would rather have the infernal contract on his back carved into his skin again each and every night than see her like this. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to run into her arms. To bury his face in her hair and beg her to take him back, beg her to help him be the man she saw in him. But he couldn’t do that to her, give her the false hope that he could change. She deserved to be with someone who could take care of her, who appreciated everything she had to offer. The realization crushed him. He watched the woman he loved fade into the crowd of the city, knowing that for her own good he could never see her again.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 tav #astarion x tav #halsin x tav #astarion fanfic #bg3 headcanons #bg3 brainrot #astarion ancunin #bg3 angst #bg3 fluff

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bg-brainrot · 4 months

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Day 8 of the BG3 Holiday Challenge with some found family <3

Prompt: Chosen Family

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Premise: You don’t have any family left in Baldur’s Gate, so when it comes time to celebrate Midwinter, you invite the family you do have: all of your old companions that can make it. Shadowheart, Gale, Halsin, and a few others join you for a meal and gift exchange.

Tags: POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Holidays, post-canon, chosen family, extended family of ragtag adventurers, even volo is included

Word count: ~1.4k

“My dear, I’m afraid that staring at the clock won’t make our guests arrive any faster.” You turn to see Astarion standing at the doorway to your drawing room, holding a stack of letters. He’s dressed impeccably in his holiday best, even sporting a small red poinsettia in his lapel. Initially, he’d resisted the festive addition, but you reminded him that, while mild, a poinsettia is poisonous. Not a moment later the flower had found its way into his outfit.

You’re also adorned festively, a bright branch of holly weaved into your belt. Dressed to impress and ready to party for the Midwinter celebration, all that’s left are your guests– which aren’t due for another ten minutes. You sigh at Astarion’s words, knowing that he’s right. “How else am I supposed to spend the time?”

Astarion walks over to your seat on the coach and hands you half of the stack of letters. “Well, I figured this might be a fantastic opportunity to make sure we had an accurate headcount. In case we need to ask Gale to conjure any chairs.”

You take the letters gratefully and pat the seat next to you. He sits and you begin to sort through the papers. “Good idea, let’s see…” The first letter is from Alfira. It’s a lovely little letter, thanking you for the invitation, detailing her Midwinter plans with Lakrissa, and ending with a short little poem for the holiday. “Alfira already had plans.”

“Oh good,” Astarion says with a small clap. “I don’t think my poor ears could take yet another rendition of the Twelve Days of Midwinter.” He waves the letter in his hand as he follows up with, “Rolan also already had plans, something about Cal and Lia wanting to travel for the holiday.”

“Maybe we should have done that,” you say to Astarion, filled with more dread at hosting a party for your closest friends than you’ve had fighting any monster.

He knows you don’t really mean it, but agrees anyway. “We still have time to escape! I hear the feywild has some lovely weather.”

“How would we get to the feywild?” you ask, taking a look at the next letter in your stack.

“I don’t know, we’d figure it out,” he responds, before rolling his eyes at the letter he’s holding. “Why did you even invite Volo?”

You shrug, honestly unsure what compelled you. “He seems lonely, I guess?”

“Well, he’s still a yes,” Astarion says, grimacing.

“Good, I suppose.” You wave the letter in your hand at him, before adding, “Dame Aylin and Isobel can’t make it. Something about seeing Midwinter's arrival in each others’ arms.”

“But of course. We could have done the same, you know.”

Your love gives you a suggestive look, which you smack with your next letter. “Stop tempting me! I know we can do this, and apparently the guests we do have are looking forward to it. Remember, Gale’s immediate yes? He’s even bringing Tara.”

“Do you suppose she requires her own chair?” Astarion asks, tapping his chin with what could only be Shadowheart’s letter, its writing neat and flowing.

“I think I already took her into account for chairs.” You’re positive you had, lest you offend the great Tara. “Is that Shadowheart’s response? Did she send an update?”

Astarion looks down at the letter, as if he'd forgotten that he was holding it. “Let's see. It says, ‘Don't worry, I'm still able to make it. Is it alright if I bring the owlbear? I wasn't able to find someone to watch him.'"

You stare at Astarion who only stares back. You break the silence to ask the question on both of your minds, "Where will we put him?"

"Perhaps Gale can shrink him for the night?"

"Good idea," you say with a nod and move on to the next letter in your stack. It's a short missive from Dammon. An appreciative message, though he already has Midwinter plans as well. “Dammon was a no.”

Your love smirks, giving you a knowing look. “Likely because Karlach couldn’t make it. Still can’t make it I take it?”

“Karlach and Wyll gratefully declined,” you say, holding up their letter. It’s been written quickly, has some scorched edges, and smells deeply of sulfur– truly no mystery as to why they couldn’t make it. “But Halsin said he would be here.”

"Someone, who I think is Withers, just sent back 'no'. Hmm." Astarion looks at the small piece of parchment containing the singular word and holds it up to you. “Why did you invite Withers? Scratch that, how did you invite Withers?”

You simply raise a shoulder in a noncommittal shrug and say, “It felt rude not to invite him.”

He looks at you for a second, as if pondering whether or not it’s worth digging into the ‘how’ when a knock sounds at the door. “Oh, I suppose our first guest has arrived. Would you like to wager on who it might be?”

“Why bother,” you say with a snort, setting aside the rest of the stack and heading to the door. “We both know it’s Gale.”

Astarion laughs at your confident proclamation, and laughs even harder when you open the door to a smiling wizard, dressed in what can only be considered a holiday robe, lit up with faerie lights. Tara stands next to him, proudly wearing a red ribbon.

“Welcome! Come in, come in,” you say, waving him into your house. Once they’ve entered, you give Gale a hearty hug and Tara a small bow, which she seems to appreciate. After you take his coat and they settle in, Astarion serves them both a drink, a wine for Gale, a bowl of broth for Tara.

You spend some time talking and catching up until your next guests arrive with a soft knock.

At the door is Shadowheart, wearing a markedly less ostentatious holiday outfit, a simple green sweater with silver pants, followed closely by a large owlbear. After a quick bit of magic from Gale, they both make their way inside to warm hugs and their own drinks.

They’re just about sitting down when another knock comes.

The night continues in much the same fashion as Halsin arrives, then Volo, then Jaheira with several of her children in tow. Then, just when you think no one else will arrive, Minsc shows up with Boo wearing a single jolly bell.

The entire group settles in for drinks, food, and merriment, discussing all that they’ve been up to since you’ve last gotten together. The company is lively, the atmosphere warm, and you’re immensely satisfied with the outcome of your efforts as you finally take a seat next to Astarion. You begin to wonder why you were worried about hosting this at all.

Ahead of the party, you hadn’t received a response from Lae’zel. She was likely too busy in the Astral Plane to respond, so you tried not to think too much of it. However, partway through the night you receive a message from her through a Sending spell: “This is Lae’zel. Apologies, I’m indisposed. I’ve been informed Midwinter is a celebration, so consider this my celebratory message.”

You laugh and send your own message back, “Thank you, Lae’zel. Hope to see you for the next one!”

Astarion smiles at you once you relay the message to the group, squeezing your hand in his. He knew you’d been worried about her despite it all, and knowing that she, too, was alive and safe would finally set your mind at ease. And it did– like something that was missing finally clicked into place and you could just breathe.

You knew that not everyone would be able to make it, and you’re still not confident in your hosting abilities, but somehow, you’re still so very content. Something about sitting in a room with your love, your closest friends, and even Volo, fills you with so much hope for the upcoming spring.

When the group lifts their glasses to cheer for all that you’ve accomplished this year, the trials and tribulations you’ve overcome together, you can’t help but add, “And to the family we’ve made along the way. May we always find our way back to one another!”

The night passes in a haze of joy and love– somehow, by the end of it, you've agreed to host again next year. You can feel Astarion's amusement as he chuckles and holds you close.

#astarion #astarion x tav #fanfic #rogue + rogue #astarion x reader #bg3holidayfluffle23

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invinciblerodent · 3 months

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and another very small, very minor entry on the list of Things I'm Getting Just a Tiny Little Bit Miffy About Seeing Repeated (Not Angry Just Ever So Slightly Annoyed)TM:

dnd elves do, in fact, mature at the same rate humans do. they're not "like children" or "not considered full adults" until they hit 100- not to anyone other than other, older elves.

like I get where the thought comes from, I fully understand it, I've read many of the source materials myself, I've read Mordenkainen's and see where the misunderstanding comes from, but... to a human, or a tiefling, or anyone else shorter-lived than an elf, a 50-, 60-, 90-year-old elf is just like a 50-, 60-, 90-year-old of their own race would be. they just look much younger than their age, and act in accordance with their personality, which is.... much less tied to someone's age than many may think. (I mean, have you never met a 50-year-old who seems just staggeringly immature? a 20-year-old who is wiser than their years would allow? have you never been to a retail establishment???????)

it's only the other elves who view a younger one as emotionally immature, and that's mainly because they have yet to bury their first generation of friends and loved ones: something a shorter-lived person only has to do once, while elves may very well go through several cycles of that in one lifetime. They have also not yet had their Drawing of the Veil, when they stop being able to access primal memories, memories of their soul's previous lives, but it's mainly the "all my once-powerful and vibrant friends are now frail and dying from old age, and yet here I remain, as young, strong, and beautiful as the day they met me, untouched by the inexorable crawl of time, what is mortality, what is death" thing.

if the people of Faerun in general thought of a 40-year-old elf as immature, as if they were a child, Astarion would have just patently not been an appointed civil administrator and judicial officer (which is what a magistrate is) 200 years ago. like he could have of course been lying when he said that that's what he was, but taking it as the once-truth, nobody would have let someone they see as a child fill such a position of responsibility. It was, however, a perfectly mundane thing for a learned adult man, such as he was, to do. (what he may or may not have done with the power he allegedly had, the kind of person he was, and whether letting him have power was the right move overall, is pretty much completely irrelevant at this juncture. corrupt officials exist regardless of age, just look at the judicial system of any country today.)

an older elf like Halsin, their maturity is not just on a different level, it's measured by a different metric than that of a shorter-lived character.

it's hard to accurately roleplay or grasp something like this with our human minds, none of us have ever spoken to a 300-year-old after all, but.... a 100-year-old elf is not a "young adult", unless you're an elf yourself. If you're a human, they're just... an adult.

#squirrel plays bg3 #at this point “squirrel rants” might be more accurate though #anyway I just read a little thing where the author had Wyll think of the PC as very young #and I thought they were supposed to be like.... 18-23-ish maybe?#nope they were 90 #and I had to stand up and go make myself a cup of coffee so i could stop giggling #oh yes Wyll Ravengard the literal 24 year old thinks Miss Player Character the woman of 90 FUCKING YEARS OF AGE is oh so very young #...... and now I hc that Astarion does tease Iona about her age from time to time #i think he'd enjoy it; especially her giving back as well as she gets without batting an eye #what can i say; elves just do sexy banter different #sometimes hitting on your (65F) immortal boyfriend (240M) just involves asking if he needs a sitdown to rest his creaking knees

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plumbitch · 5 months

Text

"Good morning, lover,"

He didn't put the candles out. Totaling up replacement costs is going to put her out twenty gold--an outrageous thought, surely, but also factors in the backups she'll need to restock on top of throwing out the surely melted husks of what remains. She can't remember if she told him not to let that happen. It feels so good to be home. Not just in her home, back home. Messy, unhinged, and beautifully chaotic Baldur's Gate. She thought of home like a long lost lover at a point while on the road--fleeting and just beyond reach. With the Absolute bullshit quashed and her loved ones most assuredly safe again, the past eights months go by in a pleasant blur of nothing but pure relief. The House of Ericia sits quiet this time of night and perfectly mundane. Somewhere in the darkened halls, her sister likely fills the quiet with the steady turning of a page, yet another hour on top of three other hours she told herself she'd commit to her studies before sleep takes her. Mama doesn't care to stay up longer than she needs, so she more than likely is lightly snoring under the soft beam of a pale moon's light in a room smelling faintly of jasmine. Her lips part and her voice fills the silence-- "'Good morning,' he says." It comes out in a miserable croak of sound. Gods... A powerful hand massages slow and deliberate circles upon her shoulder blades, drawing a low moan from her throat. She remembers a time when those hands became claws and became two things at once--capable of healing and capable of killing. How many lives fell before them during that crisis? Her brow draws tight but her eyes remain shut. No way is she entertaining anything else this night aside from the much deserved sleep just out of her reach. No more is she plagued by unwanted illithid visitors or the horrid nightmares of her fellow companions. From this point forward, her dreams are her own and, these days, they are full up recreating the calluses on the fingertips skirting down her side right now. Lips press close to her ears and they flick in response. His low, smoky chuckle sends a shiver down her body she knows she does not need (but, oh, is it so so welcome.) "Good morning..." he whispers. Her tail whips back and catches him on the chin, eliciting another laugh. Halsin gently guides her tail over her hip and resumes his path down her hip, tracing the ebony marks over the curve, and roaming further still down her thigh. "Goodnight..." He presses even closer. Nestles his nose right at the nape of her neck where the sweat still mingles with the spice of her favorite perfume. Tender lips mark a warm path across her shoulders for every kiss he alights upon her skin. "Sweetest of dreams be upon you, my lover. My heart. My Niralei." She doesn't answer save for the steady rise and fall of her breath.

#the sims 4 #simblr #sims 4 #ts4 #sims #the sims #ts4 simblr #sim: niralei #n*fw

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slusheeduck · 4 months

Text

Wild Heart

The day dawns like any other in Baldur’s Gate. It’s odd, watching the same sun that rose over the Nautiloid wreck, that filtered pale morning light through the trees in the forest, dawn over the dirty streets and grand buildings in the city. This morning is thoroughly unremarkable, for all that had just happened the night before.

Astarion had gotten in the habit of rising early through this whole tadpole mess, just to enjoy the sun for that much longer before it set. And even with the bone-deep exhaustion of all that had happened in Cazador’s palace, he couldn’t shake the habit…especially now that it was a limited resource.

He’d slid out from Falerin’s arms, letting him sleep in, and made his way out to the balcony. Everyone else was still asleep as well, enjoying real beds and warm quarters. That was good; if he heard one more comment of how proud everyone was of him, he’d bite someone.

He knew that they all meant well, and in another life, maybe he’d enjoy it. But now it just left him bristling for reasons he couldn’t quite put into words. The solitude of dawn was welcome…and short-lived.

Astarion looked up as he heard the door to the balcony open, bracing himself. Slow, easy footsteps—Halsin. He hadn’t said a word to Astarion yet, and the vampire bit back a groan at the inevitability of it. He decided to take the offensive as the druid stepped out.

“Come to tell me what a good boy I am?” he drawled. Halsin, meanwhile, looked surprised to see him there, and even more surprised to be hit with Astarion’s brand of snark so early. He gave a soft laugh.

“I came to enjoy the morning air,” he said, holding up his hands in good-natured surrender. “It’s one of the few times the air’s almost clean enough for my taste. But I can go without this morning, if it’ll bother you.”

Astarion looked over him for a moment, then shrugged as he kicked up his feet to rest on the railing. “Stay if you want. It’s no difference to me.”

Halsin dipped his head, then went to go lean against the railing. He was quiet for a moment, but even he couldn’t resist bringing up the elephant in the room. “So I take it you didn’t ascend?”

“I didn’t. Everyone’s very proud of me.” Astarion rolled his eyes. “I bet you are, too.”

“I suppose. I’m not very surprised, though. It’s not in your nature.”

Astarion bristled at that. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Halsin smiled a bit, glancing over his shoulder. “Can I confess something to you?”

Astarion frowned. “I’m not a cleric.” He pauses, then sits up. “But if it’s something particularly nasty, it may make us better friends.”

The druid barked out a laugh at that, and he shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s nothing like that.” He moved to go sit in the other chair on the balcony, meeting Astarion’s eyes. “When I first asked Falerin to spend the night together, we both agreed that nothing could be done without your consent.”

“Well, yes, I know that.”

Halsin took a breath. “I also…may have mentioned that, someday, it could extend to your…participation.” As Astarion inhaled to reply, he held up his hand. “That was solely my own wishful thinking. Obviously, I don’t expect anything from you. But it feeds into what I said earlier.” Halsin crossed his arms. “In the moment, I’ll admit that I only suggested that because I found you beautiful. But it goes deeper, I think—even then, it was deeper than your looks, but it’s taken all of this…” He gestured out to the waking city below. “…for me to really find what it is that draws me to you.”

Astarion listened, face suspicious but curiosity getting the better of him. “Go on.”

Halsin glanced up at him, a smile playing at his lips. “I know you’re a creature of this city, but there’s nature in your soul. Whether it’s because of your…condition or your nature, I can’t say. But you…act the way animals do.”

“Oh, high praise,” Astarion said flatly. Halsin shook his head with a smile.

“What I mean is…you act in accordance to your needs. When you hunger, you feed. When you’re bored, you play—cruelly, perhaps, but then some see cats as cruel in their play as well. When you’re hurt, you strike. And you play the games that ‘civilized people’ do, of course—the…lies, the flattery, the complications. But I think, more than the others, you have a wild heart.” He shrugged. “It’s been a comfort, even from a distance, and it’s something I admire greatly, far beyond your beauty. So, admittedly, I’m not very surprised you didn’t ascend. That sort of power does no good for a heart like yours.”

Astarion’s eyes had turned out to the city, eyes fixed on a spire some way off. He stayed quiet for a very long moment, then gave a soft sigh. “Falerin talked me down,” he murmured. “Before you start thinking I was any sort of…noble about it. And when he first said ‘don’t’, I…” He screwed up his face. “I hated him. Gods, I hated him more than anything. And I…all I could think was…” He glanced toward the door, a flicker of fear on his face, as if he expected Falerin would walk out. “I wanted him to die screaming, for stopping me,” he whispered, voice barely audible.

“Well, doesn’t Scratch growl if you take something from him he doesn’t want to give up?” Halsin asked. “It’s only natural.” He gave a soft sigh, looking up at Astarion. “Do you still want that?”

“Gods, no. Of course not.” Astarion looked away, a nail finding its way to his teeth. “But…well. I’d get a lot fewer congratulations if they knew. Though maybe that wouldn’t be a bad thing.”

“It is uncomfortable, suddenly being praised for doing what you think is…rational. I felt the same when I became archdruid. If I were a touch more bear than I am, I might’ve ran. Then again, I suppose I did in the end.” Halsin looked over the horizon, then reached over to rest a large hand on Astarion’s arm, easing it away from his nail biting. “But for what it’s worth, I’m grateful—for the most selfish of reasons—that you didn’t give in. You would have lost your wild heart, and I…I would have lost a kindred spirit, a source of comfort in these walls.” His eyes slid over to Astarion, a flicker of mirth in them. “Along with all hope of you becoming a cuddly kitten.”

Astarion blinked, then let out an airy laugh. “Oh, I get it now. Beneath all that oneness with nature, you’re a bastard.”

Halsin laughed, a full one this time. “Well, bears play too, you know.”

Astarion shook his head, then sighed as he looked Halsin over, studying him. “I’ve hated you, you know.”

“You haven’t been very subtle. Which, admittedly, I appreciate. I can’t stand a flattering tongue that hides the venom beneath it.”

The vampire let out a tsk between his teeth. “It’s just, you’re everything I’m not. And…I’m not used to sharing anything, not with the life I’ve had. If it wasn’t given up to Cazador, it was every man for himself. So with Falerin…I thought he’d go to you eventually. Permanently.” He shrugged. “But at the same time, I didn’t want to keep him all to myself. Especially since we weren’t…well, intimate.” He pressed his lips together. “But he came back.”

“Of course. He’s bonded to you, body and soul. It’s obvious; I knew that when I broached the topic. But, well…nothing ventured, nothing gained, they say. I’m very grateful, to both of you, that you’ve allowed me in, for however long that is.”

Astarion sighed. “And I…suppose I’m grateful for what you’ve been able to give Fal.” He looked up at the overhang. “And for being…much more understanding about what happened last night than I expected.” He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees as he looked to Halsin. “I’m starting to see why Fal likes you. Outside of your obscene biceps, anyway.”

Halsin grinned at him. “Obscene, are they?”

Astarion leaned back, arms crossed and eyes shut as he huffed. “I’m petty, not blind. Don’t get your hopes up just yet.” He peeked an eye open. “Call me beautiful again, though, and your chances do get slightly better.”

“You are beautiful. Like a sliver of moonlight through the trees, like a panther stalking its prey, like a still pool secluded from the world.”

Astarion flapped his hand. “All right, all right, that’s enough. You’ll be whispering sonnets in my ear soon enough.” Despite his words, he did look very pleased, and he looked to Halsin with a smile. “Participation is still off the table for now, but I wouldn’t mind slipping off into the woods for a hunt. Indulge our wild hearts, maybe.”

Halsin gave him a wide smile, eyes brightening. “Truthfully, there is nothing I’d like more.”

“Mm. Then it’s a date. Though be warned, I did manage to take down a bear; you may end up a target if I’m feeling peckish.”

Halsin laughed, a full-bodied, deep one. “I’ll take my chances.”

Casual Banter masterpost

#bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #halsin #halstarion if you squint #Look I keep hearing about a fivesome and they need to talk things out before they get there #I've been too busy trying to find Minsc to know if it's real #Anyway bit of a palate cleanser after the last one-shot #Also to shamelessly self-plug: if you like these one shots you'll probably also like my long-fic For Want Of A Wish #Okay that's it that's the self-plug

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