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#lae'zel is so hard to not love
1004knightingale · 8 months
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Day 10 - Romance + Seal
special thanks to my bestie @sillystorm28 for helping me compose this piece, and then writing a whole as fic just to motivate me??? chad af.
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archonfurina · 10 months
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Yes. Yes. I might gain Vlaakith's favour yet. -- Silence! I must think.
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ribbitrrrbitxhs · 9 months
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How I think the companions would react to Tav cooking a spicy meal.
For the sake of argument it’s lamb over rice.
Gale: AHHH MY MOUTH IS ON FIRE *chugs water*
Tav: Gale, that’s gonna make it worse!
Gale: WHY ISN’T IT WORKING?!
Tav, Shadowheart, and Astarion: *laugh uncontrollably*
Karlach devours the whole thing.
Karlach: That was amazing! Can I have more? *eats half of the leftovers*
Lae’zel isn’t going to admit that she really liked it.
Lae’zel: it was satisfactory.
She goes to get seconds and more red sauce.
Shadowheart likes the flavor profile a lot but the spice is something that is getting to her. However she will absolutely put it aside because she really loves the lamb itself.
Shadowheart: my mouth too is on fire but pain is sacred to my lady. Thank you Tav.
Wyll is super nice about it. He will finish his plate and help Tav clean up. Because he’s the best.
Wyll: this was quite lovely! It’s been a while since I’ve had a decent meal. Thank you Tav! I look forward to your next turn cooking.
Now nothing actually indicates that Astarion can’t consume regular food. I mean he does drink wine at the tiefling party. So I assume he’d try some the first few nights while we don’t know he’s a vampire just to not raise suspicions. He really likes the spice.
Astarion: this isn’t half bad, ya know. Not the best I’ve had but decent. But whatever made Gale shoot up and do that pathetic dance… put it in there every time.
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gothmothgoblin · 10 months
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going thru the baldur gate tag puking and throwing up bc you all only care abt astarion
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watchmakermori · 8 months
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astarion saying he doesn't like horses because they bite and shadowheart saying 'so do you, but we still keep you around'....i love my girls so much
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drawingway · 9 months
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Shadowheart: *changes hair*
Everyone: Hey, nice, love it, awesome, good for you, it suits you, nice forehead...
Lae'zel: did she get a new wrinkle or something? new scar? beats me, didn't notice anything.
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fatherramiro · 4 months
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ive got so many thoughts about origin character playthroughs in bg3 as i go into act 3 of my wyll origin run, and while a majority of them are "wyll and lae'zel co protagonists of the game by a large margin" there's also some moments where im like "ooh id have done that differently if i were writing the game"
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blackjackkent · 7 months
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Poor Hector is not at all feeling optimistic at present, and I don't really blame him. The zaith'isk ordeal really did a number on him and he's completely unsure what the right and wrong actions are here, or who is a friend and who is an enemy.
The deep recesses of the monastery here appear to have been dug out of a sort of cave or canyon area. (Odd choice for a monastery devoted to the god of dawn.) It's full of bats and (I assume) bat dung and just generally very ominous-feeling.
And there he is, the man himself:
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Sir, your office looks fuckin' awful.
Honestly surprised he didn't oust Therezzyn out of her office rather than take this super cracked-up area.
"Ahhh...our esteemed guest," he says as Hector approaches. The door behind them clangs shut with a heavy, uncomfortably final sort of noise. "Please approach. We have much to discuss."
The gith inquisitor has a surprisingly gentle voice and looks them over appraisingly as they move into the room.
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"My ardents spoke of one of our kin that escaped a crashing ghaik slave-vessel."
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"Ch'r'ai," Lae'zel says reverently. "Vlaakith's justice in flesh."
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The man's sharp features twist in a slow smile. "You have accomplished much, child. I am pleased to finally meet you." His gaze shifts to Hector, and the warmth falls away, replaced by a piercing intensity. "I hear there is so much goblin blood on your hands that it soaks their children's nightmares."
It is not a description that brings Hector any pleasure. He frowns, flinches back slightly, and the inquisitor smirks tightly, knowingly. "To business. I suspect you plucked something precious from the ghaik ship. Something that belongs to us." The smile fades, replaced by a firm authority that expects no disobedience. "The weapon. Give it to me."
"Don't do it..." wails the dream guardian in Hector's mind. "The weapon is how I protect you!"
"Do it," Lae'zel insists in counterpoint. "Do not disobey the inquisitor."
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Hector hesitates, puts his hand on the artifact in his pack...then pauses, and tries a different kind of truth. "I can't," he says honestly. "It protects me."
He has gone along with everything thus far because he hopes... desperately... that Lae'zel could be right. That the gith purify their infected. That those who have already responded otherwise were part of some conspiracy. That this man is their ally.
And if all those things are true, telling him of the artifact's power over their safety is not only valid but necessary.
And if they aren't...
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The inquisitor's expression goes hard. "Indeed? And what does it protect you from?"
"The voice of the Absolute," Hector says. Honest. Steady. Direct...
And his worst fears are confirmed. All around him, the guards in the room draw their crossbows and sight down on the group, and W'wargaz draws the enormous greatsword from his back with a single, lithe movement.
"If you hear that voice at all, you are infected," the inquisitor snarls. Any pretense of welcome or good humor has vanished. "And it is my people who need protecting from you! Hta'zith!"
Shit.
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maegalkarven · 7 months
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An interlude. What now?
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Happens between Empty Prayers and Dreams of Red.
Nemo tries to be serious and Think of the Future. It backfires.
Characters: Dark Urge (Nemo), Enver Gortash, Astarion, Karlach, Wyll, Shadowheart, Gale, Lae'zel.
TW: mentions of cannibalism, questionable way to raise children (Nemo wtf), canon-typical Durge behavior.
Info about Nemo's assassins:
https://www.tumblr.com/maegalkarven/732101148639707136/so-i-actually-created-most-of-the-notable?source=share
"You do realize we all are doomed, right?" The question comes out of nowhere amidst of one of the calmest nights they have. It breaks the feeble illusion of peace right away.
"Now, you don't have to put it like that," Gale tries. "We still have some choices-"
"Blowing yourself up is not a choice," Wyll cuts out, uncharacteristically sour.
"But-"
"No, Gale," Shadowheart agrees. "No more stupid self-sacrifices for the gods who do not deserve that. Besides, you remember what Gortash said? What if you have done as Mystra wanted you to and detonated the orb in the illithid colony, it would turn every parasite-infested person into mindflayer?"
"I'm not sure how much we can trust a word of the former Chosen of Bane."
"Fair," the former Chosen of Shar agrees. "I wouldn't trust him either. But something tells me this time he was telling the truth."
"He also sits just across you, if your memory is that fragile," Gortash comments. "And thank you, not like I was thinking of impending doom and our deaths for every hour of every day now."
"Not like you kickstarted this whole event," Karlach comments.
"And what would you have me to do, let Orin kill Nemo?"
"Well, you could have not tried to conquer the world using the extremely dangerous magical artifact and, you know, the Elder Brain."
"You keep saying that, but I have yet to hear a single idea how to fix it and for us, you know, not die drastically and like fools."
"Everyone always dies like a fool," Astarion comments. "Death is dumb like that."
"If you'd only let me finish," Nemo raises his voice. "And stopped this 'woe are us, we are doomed' crying-"
"We are listening," Wyll tries. "Oh, well, at least I am trying to."
Nemo sends him a grateful look.
"Alright, let's start it anew, you literal bickering children-"
"Hey-"
"Gortash started it-"
"Oh, fuck off-"
"Quiet," and surprisingly, they all quiet down. This is who Nemo is forced to work with these days. Unbelievable.
"We are screwed. This is not me being overly dramatic, this is not me being pessimistic, this is the actual truth we're dealing with. The Elder brain has one stone and if it wasn't breaking out of the hold before - which he was, very much - it's clearly out of it now. Now, the questions why it hasn't turned everyone into mindflayers and why it's playing laying low for now is a mystery, but-“
"It's luring us back to it," Astarion comments. "What? Can't we offer our thoughts too? I didn't know it's One Man show you're having here."
"You have no idea how many people have been stabbed over interrupting him mid speech," Gortash comments. "Me included."
"Oh yeah, well, maybe try to not talk over me, asho-"
"I wasn't talking over you-"
"Just like you aren't doing it now?" Nemo glares at him. "You're lucky I need you alive."
"Thank you oh so kindly, the gracious one-"
"Tsk'va," Lae'zel interrupts the quarrel. "You two desire to tear into each other’s flesh so much it makes you stupid. Go get the urges out of the system and come back when you're capable of being rational."
This comment, made with intention of calming things down, has rather the opposite effect.
"You're the one to talk," Nemo hisses as his face reddens.
"I do not ‘desire to tear into his flesh’," Gortash argues.
Astarion laughs.
"Yes, and I am not a vampire spawn."
"Can we not fight?" Wyll, an unfortunate voice of reason amidst this chaos.
"Oh, I don't know," Gale smirks. "I rather find it amusing to watch."
"You know what?" Nemo snaps. "Go on, detonate this orb. I'm done with it."
"Now I'm not going to, purposely because you asked me so nicely."
"I fucking hate this family."
"Karlach, you already said that."
"It doesn't mean I hate it any less."
"I miss my children," Nemo suddenly chimes in. "They listened to me."
"Your who?"
"Oh, please," Gortash snorts. "I once saw one of your children stab her brother over something minor."
"It was their brother and it was nothing minor. He took their target, that's just rude."
"I'm sorry," Gale tries. "Can we backtrack now? What children are you talking about now?"
Nemo blinks at them.
"Oh," he exclaims. "My assassins, of course, the ones I personally brought into the fold."
"And the reason you address them as children is because..?"
"They were orphans Nemo picked up from the streets," Gortash mentions. "At least that's what I was told."
"Excuse me, what?" Karlach, indignation flaring with her fire. "You stole children?"
"First of all, it's kidnapped and not stole. Second of all, they came willingly," Nemo scoffs. "And really, do you think they had any other choice? Do you think any good life was waiting for them? I saved their lives."
"You've abducted children into the cult and made them killers," Wyll speaks. "Nemo, this is-"
"Wrong?" He interrupts. "How wrong can it truly be? They would die without me, or better yet, get killed. Do you think there's mercy for a girl who took a life of her stepfather? Whose mother blamed her for the murder even if said stepfather was in dire need of killing?" He pierces Wyll with a sharp stare.
"Do you think Flaming Fists would save a little tiefling boy with too much magic in his blood? Do you think they'd get to the mad crowd in time and protect the boy from it? Do you think they'd even care?  A tiefling child, an evil child, a hellspawn. No one would miss him, no one would cry for him. And," he smiles and this smile looks poisonous.
"Do you think your honorable father would spare a child whose survival was linked to the deal with the fiend? Do you think he, who exiled his own son, would look at destruction of the House Et'rris, at the only surviving its member, linked to a devil, and help them? Save them?" His voice drops to a low tone.
"How dare you judge me? You were not there to save these children, I was. What did I do but gave them a second chance? What did I do but gave them home? Where else would they go? Who else would feed starving orphans on the streets, Duke Ravengard?" He laughs an ugly, bitter laugh.
"The Council of Four? Don't be ridiculous, they never even looked down to see the low folk struggling. Those children, all those children would die if not for me. From the so-called justice, from an angry mob, from prison, from starvation. I found them, fed them, cared for them. I made them best of the best, the perfect murderers, the perfect shadows of the night. And who can hurt them now, when they're the worst things haunting Baldur's Gate? Who would dare to strike at them but their own? I made them strong."
The stunned, eerie silence falls over the camp.
Then Karlach raises her voice.
"What did you feed them with?"
"This is irrelevant."
"No, it's not."
"It was a good meat: not rotten, not touched by any diseases, I even cooked it-"
"I fed children the human flesh?!" Gale asks in horror.
"Of course you'd assume it was human," Nemo scoffs. "It was elven too, you know. Some dwarf meat, even halfling or tiefling there and there-"
"You did what?!"
"It was that or starving on the streets! And anyway, I was fed humanoid flesh my entire life and I turned out alright-"
Astarion scoots a little closer to Gortash.
"He did not turn out alright," the pale elf whispers, watching the argument rising to new, dangerous heights. "And you knew that, didn't you?"
"What Nemo eats flesh?" Gortash hums. "It wasn't a big secret."
"And what he feeds his...children the same?"
"It's a Cult of Murder," the man shrugs. "One expects some level of atrocities from it."
"That's not the answer."
"That's the one you'll get," Astarion watches Gortash watching Nemo, a small satisfies smile dancing on his lips. "I don't particularly care what he feeds his assassins, only what all of them seem to care very little for table manners."
"So I'm guessing you've met them?"
"Yes."
"...What are they like?"
"Why don't you ask their benefactor that and not the man who saw them once or twice?"
"Because their benefactor is currently in a screaming match with our companions," Astarion's shrugs. "Though he seems to be holding his ground just alright."
Gortash snorts.
"He used to lead fifty or so bloodthirsty murderers and made it look easy," another long, heavy look at Nemo. "He is good at handling people. Bhaal convinced Nemo the best thing a bhaalshapwn can be is a perfect blade, which is a shame, really. Nemo would do wonders in high court; he has enough charisma and intelligence to wrap the nobles around his fingers without them so much as noticing it.”
"It sounds like you admire him," Astarion comments, trying very hard not to feel slighted at that. Of course tyrant admires his nearest in dearest, it was to be expected. And anyway, doesn’t Nemo deserve to be admired?
But why does it sit so ill against his skin?
"Of course I admire him," the tyrant replies, not even looking away from the assassin. "He is brilliant. His part in our plans is not to be overlooked; everything came falling apart the moment Orin replaced him. Bhaal might have been content with a mad woman who could not control her urges, but our plan could not. She made a mess of things, ruined several of carefully constructed plans and hadn't even noticed. The amount of people I had to tadpole simply because Orin was acting unwise is-" he sighs. "Where Nemo would just waltz into the room, smile and bullshit his way through everything, Orin made things worse."
Astarion hums.
"I once saw Nemo convince an orthon to kill his minions, then his pet, then himself," he mentions. "So I can easily see him doing that."
"An orthon?" Gortash looks surprised. "Where in the Nine Hells did you find an orthon?"
"In a Gauntlet of Shar," Astarion shrugs. "He made an ill-fitted deal with Raphael and tried to get out of it. Nemo tricked him into false getaway."
Three's a long silence after that.
"Raphael," Gortash speaks slowly, as if tasting the words. "It's been a while since I've heard that name. How did you stumble into him?"
"More like he stumbled into us. He appeared from the thin air, laid heavy on those sweet talks of his and tried to talk Nemo into a deal. Probably still trying, all things considered. I am not sure what exactly he wants from Nemo, but he is insistent."
Gortash grows silent once more.
"I would advise against strikingly any deals with that particular devil," he comments after a pause. "Deals with him are even fouler than the deal with the devil would be expected to be. Raphael is clever; he is patient and knows how to play the game. Worst of all, he is at advantage of knowing Nemo while Nemo does not know him, and in the position where he is holding a grudge against the dear assassin of mine."
Astarion bites down the bitter taste of the way Gortash claims Nemo as his.
This can wait. His questions would not.
"Why would he hold a grudge against Nemo?"
Gortash actually laughs, a short lived and curt sound, but laugh none less.
"Because Nemo has done something Raphael failed to do. Raphael has been lusting after the Crown of Karsus for millennia, but was never able to relieve it from Mephistopheles' vault. Together Nemo and I successfully orchestrated and executed the plan what brought the crown into our hands."
So this is what Raphael wants.
"He is after the crown," Astarion comment. "And he thinks Nemo will be able to get it for him."
Gortash nods.
"And I can't express enough how this is absolutely a thing what cannot happen. Raphael is bad enough without a otherworldly power what is the Crown of Karsus in his claws."
"So," Astarion studies the man closely. "Better the crown in your hands then?"
Gortash smiles.
"Providing what we can get it off Elder Brain first and live," he comments. "But yes."
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zevrans · 8 months
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i just beat raphael why do i feel so bad 😭😩 also i managed to persuade yurgir to join me before the battle despite having previously killed himvcmfms and he said he'll join us in the final battle and called my tav a little rabbit again 😳🥺🙈
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raksh-writes · 3 months
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Im currently reinstalling BG3 to get all the new patches and whatnot so of course instead of focusing on my previous save where I already reached Act 3 Im thinking of starting a new run instead like... it wont even be that different when Im probably just gonna switch from ranger to druid but I wanna.
Plus, I thought of getting some new hair styles and clothes with mods since I saw so many lovely ones all over yt and tumblr, but Im not sure if it won’t disable my achievements? And I kinda like seeing them so rip new lovely hair styles I guess ;C
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jaggialliance · 6 months
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wip... sometimes you gotta draw the polycule having a group hug
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astralprisms · 4 months
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Sorry to the gith blogs I'm following, I feel like it's prudent to know I am both a gith and ghaik apologist and the Emperor is definitely my favorite character. Personally going to make the gith and the ghaik hold hands about it
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hiddenbeks · 8 months
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accidentally thought abt khaless too hard and wrote an entire hypothetical questline for a hypothetical companion khaless 😔
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prettyboykatsuki · 6 months
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— ❈ YOU'RE SO PRETTY, BABY.
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▸ prompt ; companions and their responses to being called pretty boy / pretty girl.
▸ a/n ; bit of a generic post im sorry forreal. while i was originally just going to write this for astarion i had ideas for. all the other companions.
most of the characters have a reader w a specific class or background, all varied! also spoilers for gale, shadowheart, karlach, and lae'zel.
reader / tav is always gender neutral!
▸ wc ; about 4.5k, about 700+ words per companion.
ft. astarion, wyll, gale, shadowheart, karlach, lae'zel
no minthara or halsin bc i could not bring myself to write it. but maybe later if enough people ask lol.
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❈ ASTARION ;
Astarion tries his very best to find your affection for him trite, even when he knows it doesn't feel that way. It's an instinct for him, one you'll simply have to make peace with you if you're really planning on tailing him to the end of the world.
Truth be told though, he likes your generally affectionate nature. He hasn't reached a point he can admit this so openly, but the comfortable and easy way you reach for him is nice. He likes how your hands seem to stretch for him, the way you cling to his spine when you sleep in his tent and the likes.
And while he is not stranger to hypocrisy, he thinks it'd be amiss to try and bar you from calling him any pet names when he calls you so many. He's got quite a few handy. Darling is a favorite, followed by dear, and sometimes my love when he can muster up the courage to mean it instead of saying it like he's trying to perform.
You like to call Astarion by his name though, most often. He isn't exactly sure why you're so fond of it, and truthfully he's done little to consider his own name. You say it wonderfully though, tasteful and loving and soft.
Sometimes you gasp it in offense or horror or shock, other times in pleasure. Sometimes you whimper it in your sleep, groping around until your hands fist in the material of his shirt and you drag him back to you.
In any case, he's used to hearing his name. So hearing you utter the words pretty boy to him, he can't help but be a little shocked.
You're a little tipsy. A hard, arduous journey of fighting githyanki soldiers has taken a terrible toll on your normal inhibitions. You're quite flushed while you're drunk, and all the same sitting in his lap like you've not a care in the world.
Astarion doesn't mind holding you. In fact, he's thinking of all the terribly teasing things he can say to you come morning. So far, you've done nothing but mumble. It's a sudden movement, your hands clasped around his face.
"Feeling forward are we darling?" He says, like second nature. It's so reactionary it's banal, though he does have some enthusiasm since the flirtation is directed at you. Instead of your usual giggling, you stare at him with your lips parted.
"I suppose I am pretty boy," You reply, a completely foreign confidence in your voice that stops him dead in his tracks. Underneath the thick layer of flirtation is sincerity so unmistakable it almost proves to be too much "Could I ask you to keep me company?"
Astarion is, eternally grateful about the fact you don't get much more than that out of you. He spends the entire night thinking about it. You're certainly not the first to call him pretty, and that particular phrasing has been thrown to him more than once.
Yet it rings a little differently. The way you said it so tenderly, your hands stroking the nape of his neck and cupping his face. Well, it's not nothing. He can't decide if he hates it or not until the next morning comes.
Your eyes flutter open as light pours through the open part of his tent. You reach over to him with a deep sigh, engaging in some quiet morning affection when you repeat yesterdays sentiment.
"Good morning, my very pretty boy," You say - and this time Astarion is sure whatever he is feeling he has not ever felt previously "Sorry for the antics last night."
"So your memory hasn't failed you. Good to know." Astarion says back. You laugh lightly. "Your charming little pet name worried me quite a bit."
"Nothing to worry about my love." You say, warm and nuzzling into his neck likely to cool yourself from over-heating "I really do find you very pretty."
He can't help the feeling that floods his sense. He likes it even though he feels a little clingy, but perhaps there's no need to admit that.
"Oh, really, darling? How sweet you are. Tell me again, then. Just for kicks this time."
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❈ WYLL ;
it's a matter of getting used to it for Wyll.
For the first month of your adventuring together, pretty boy, had been a somewhat condescending substitute for his name. Among other ones, like daddy's boy and prince. None of the pet names held any real affection.
You liked getting under his skin, after all.
You didn't get on at first, not for a long while. You're a rogue, a ratty street urchin turned mercenary who'd spent your youth climbing through the soil and mud of the Lower City's underbelly. Your words verbatim, not his. At first, your resentment for him caught him off guard, especially because Wyll prefers to keep the peace and get along with everyone. But, he had a difficult time understanding you, even with his people skills
Eventually it clicked that your resentment was less towards him, and more towards what he represents. You're a Baldurian, but one abandoned by the city and it's people. What else could the Ravengards represent if not the future you never had a chance to look towards.
It was easier after that. And Wyll had promised to himself to observe you closer. In that, he found to like you a great deal.
He's fond of pet names in general, but more fond of you lately. At the beginning of your adventure, it was a little difficult to get accustomed to your... roughness. You lack delicacy, but you're not exactly silver tongued.
Yet, you're not as cruel as you make yourself out to be. Contrarily, while you've traveled together, Wyll bore witness to only gentleness. Nothing more. The words you spoke about only doing things for coin had been clearly disproved by your countless acts of charity. Especially gentle and kind to children, and especially unforgiving to the rich and unhelpful.
Once he got used to it, there was something kind of...sweet about it. To see you say one thing and do another had it's own novelty that Wyll grew fond of you.
It was the night of tiefling party that roused his feelings. That night, he'd watched you play with the tiefling children all night, teaching them tricks of the trade.
And you'd started falling for him, too, judging by the way your usual snark was nowhere to be found.
Especially vivid is the change in your tone when you call him the same way you did before.
"We'll take a short rest for you, pretty boy." Your voice murmurs, looking carefully over his wounds while place down your own weapons "Get your spells back. Organize our things in the mean time."
He gives you look, examining your own worry before his smile stretches into one of fondness. It doesn't bother him at all, not anymore. No, lately - it sounds rather fond, and each time Wyll hears it, it does something for ego.
"No need for the concern, though I am appreciative," He says, not bothering to mask the smug quality in his voice at your change. He delights in it a little, admittedly . "I'll be alright soon enough."
You don't seem to notice, too busy wiping your blade of fresh blood, metal shiny as moonlight. "And there's no need for your heroism, Blade of Frontiers. Have some discernment about time and place."
You look up at him with your brows furrowed, and Wyll can barely help himself. "Are you worried I'll lose what's left in my appearances? I'm just telling you there's no need to trouble yourself over it."
It takes you a while to register to his words, but when it finally does - your eyes blow wide. The look of embarrassment on your face is well worth it.
"I thought you hated when I called you that." You say coolly.
"It's not so bad," He says back tenderly, staring at you "At least not anymore."
You pout a little. Wyll fights some unspoken urge to kiss you. A little longer.
"I prefer when you're acting oblivious,"
"Sorry to disappoint."
He lets his head lay on the wall behind him - reaching a hand for yours instead, trying to rest up as promised. He sees you smiling from the corner of his eye and affirms it to himself. You squeeze, soft, but otherwise say nothing about it.
Yes, lately, nothing you say could get under his skin. Even when you so obviously try.
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❈ GALE ;
Gale is always the poet, never the muse.
He thought highly of his relationship with Mystra, and in many ways still does. He loved her. This much is true. He can't say for any certainty if she had loved him just as much, or at all. He wasn't the first mortal, and would hardly be the last.
But he loved her, enough to write about her and wax poetic about all that he'd lost.
When Gale examines any of his past relationship, he realizes this is some kind of pattern. Gale is good at being loving, but he does not know for certain if any of them loved him back. Or if he was loved in the way he loves - if it was anything near close. Gale had thought, at one point, it was just matter of destiny. Gale is after all, a man who bleeds with all he has.
He can't blame anyone for loving him less than when he is categorically too much. He thought that way for a long time, destined himself to never find love again or beg for Mystra's forgiveness for some new found purpose.
When you came into his life, he hadn't been sure what would come of your relationship. Certainly a brain parasite would make camp a difficult place for romance, but the two of you managed against all odds. Among all the things that Gale finds astonishing about your relationship - it's your affection for him that catches him the most off-guard.
It's a little sad, he can admit. But it's true. When you speak to Gale, your voice is always soft. It's never demanding. Before, always, there had been some kind of expectation. Gale had to be a certain way, to pour himself into someone else for the sake of it being returned.He loved. Surely he loved.
But now, lately, you love him back. Overwhelmingly. The easiness of your love makes him feel a little... spoiled. Which is embarrassing, at the stage of life he's in. He finds the whole thing tips him over the edge. The heat creeping up his neck every time he remembers. Your hand brushing against the back of his neck, cupping his face so gently.
Gale, perhaps unsurprisingly, is fond of your various pet names. All of them sound good. Make him feel important and desired. You like to call him a bookworm, sometimes you call him baby (which he really likes much more than he is ever willing to admit), and other times you settle on saying my love.
Pretty boy is new. Pretty boy is different, and makes heat crawl up the back of Gale's neck like a smitten school boy.
It has a special effect on Gale.
In between classes, spoken with your hands cupping his face as he leans on his desk. The sunlight is pouring through the large paneled windows, casting a warmth on your expression. Gale is sat on his desk, making you eye-level.
"I'm glad you've come to see me," Gale says to you first, breaking a period of comfortable silence. You're a busy person, given all the heroics. Gale finds it troublesome, despite the fact you've moved with him to Waterdeep. Your reputation precedes you "It's been ages,"
"Of course I'd come to see you, pretty boy," You hum, thumb brushing under his cheek - carefully drawing a line "You're very healing to look at."
The effect is rather immediate. As soon as the words leave your lips, spoken to him so lovingly - he unlocks a part of himself he always seems to forget about. Forgets himself in a fundamental way, the flurry of heat and euphoric sensation of adoration washing over him like water.
He gives you a look, and you laugh - pressing your thumb to his lower lip as you lean in for a kiss. "Stop pouting, will you?"
"I'm doing nothing of the sort," He insists, kissing you despite him. You laugh into, warm and bubbly. For a minute, he remembers all he might've lost had he done what Mystra told him.
He's glad he's alive. To feel you.
"You very much are," You reply back, once you've managed to pull away from each other "Don't be so surprised. You've always been very pretty to me."
He blushes again, deeper, and closes his eyes.
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❈ SHADOWHEART ;
You don't often communicate your feelings to Shadowheart through words.
You're something of a stoic. Of the few people in Shadowheart's past who remain by her side, many of them communicate about how surprised they are about your partnership. Shadowheart is known to be a little snarky, witty. She used to be very prickly, at the start of your adventure together - so everyone questions how you were able to win her heart.
Truthfully, Shadowheart didn't know what to make of your personality at first. There's a silence to you. Maybe she should expect this of paladin so loyal. A Paladin of Torm, the unswerving enemy of injustice and corruption. You've always been a devout person, putting action and justice over everything. She hated it at first, a natural response for a Sharran, she figures.
Once she'd left it all behind, she could no longer use it as an excuse.
Truth be told, Shadowheart had always liked that aspect of you. Your devotion spoke to something greater than your oath or even your god. You had simply believed in the world, and inadvertently in her. You saved her from herself, her parents from her fate, and then some.
Your devotion to her as a lover isn't something so different. She often thinks you would swear yourself to her if you could. For Shadowheart, your affection is akin to worship. Every morning, the animals are tended and the flower bed is damp. You wake her mother up without a start, remind her of where she is without making her feel ashamed. You're good to her father, talk to him of worldly politics at the dinner table.
She has no complaints to make about you. Your love for her is tangible, something she can reach out and touch with her fingers.
She's unused to hearing your affections, though. Unused to hearing the words.
You lay together in the darkness. You're alone tonight, the entire cabin empty. Her mother and father have gone together on an outing together, after you accompanied them into the city. You've finally returned, put the horses up in the stable, and have to come to her side.
Shadowheart likes to lay in your arms. She lets herself curl into your weight, inhales the scent of your skin - earthy and rich as you let your arm fold around her waist. She lays ontop of you today, her whole body on yours like a blanket.
She looks up at you, her her tied loosely. She can practically feel how glowy her own expression is as she examines you - sees her reflection in your irises.
You let your hand lay over her back, reaching up underneath her nightwear to lay touch her skin. She gives you a look - her smile small, sincere. Your own expression is tired from travel, but fond. You insisted on taking her parents instead of letting them go alone.
She loves you more than she cares to admit.
"You're staring." She comments blithely "See something you like?"
Normally you'd flush a little at this, silent as you kiss her forehead or cheek. This time though, you use your fingers to brush the stray hairs from her face and nod.
"Yes, pretty girl," You hum, nonchalantly. Sagely. "I really do,"
She's so caught off guard, she can't help but gape. She lifts herself slightly to stare at you in shock.
"I've never heard you talk like that. Not once while we've been together. I mean.. you've called me beautiful but," Shadowheart stumbles, a fluttery feeling in her stomach she'd rather ignore "But it's never like that,"
"I think it more often that I say it,"
"And you always think to call me that?"
"Like I said, often," You look over he carefully, before your lips pull into an easy smile "You're pretty to the point I want to tell you all the time,"
Shadowheart is scarcely embarrassed by anything. She's a practiced woman at this point in her life. It's almost juvenile the way the words effect her. It's you saying it that makes all the difference. The way you've said it that makes her squirm. She lets out a little puff of air, silent as you laugh.
"Pretty girl," You repeat, warm and gentle and laced with exhaustion "You're the most beautiful girl I've ever met."
Shadowheart tucks her face into your neck, voice as soft a murmur as the sound of her own heart rings in her ears.
"Don't make a habit of talking like that," She huffs "I already know, but I suppose it doesn't hurt to hear."
You smile brightly. "I'm glad,"
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❈ KARLACH ;
Karlach adores you, utterly and completely.
She's a little caught off-guard by it. Just when she'd convinced herself she couldn't love you more, you surprise her all over again. She'd probably harbored some sort of affection for you from the start of your adventure together, when you'd gone to bat for her and make sure Wyll didn't take her head as a trophy.
Since then, though - on your journey together, she'd taken careful notice of you. And gods, she likes you. You're very different she must admit. Where Karlach is strong and fiery, you're cool and calculated. She figured that's just what magic users are like, but Gale is pretty keen on correcting this assumption. You're a sorcerer, specifically, means the whole magic thing is in your composition and not your study.
Which explained why your head isn't the books like their local wizard. She does find you to be rather charming. You're good at talking your way in and out of almost everything, and you can outwit even the cleverest people on camp. You'd think it'd make you... annoying. Or cruel. And sure, you're a little calculating - but mostly, you're sweet.
Karlach's really never met anyone like you before. Her companionship is a little limited because before the Blood Wars, she was a rag-tag kid in the street of the city. But you grew up in a noble house, learned to charm and finesse your way through everything. You know how to read situations before they've even happened.
And you always explain them to her afterwards.
You make Karlach nervous, strangely. Which is wild! When it comes to socializing, she can get along with almost anyone. You though, you always see right through her. You know when she's using her own personality as a shield, and you always know just when to intervene. Or when to say nothing, and just let her sit with you.
The day she blew up at you, after defeating Gortash - you'd handled it better than she could've hoped. You were comforting, and kind, and let her feel it out without making her feel bad. With you, she felt hopeful despite knowing that the end was probably going to come for her eventually.
With you, she thinks she could endure even the end of the world.
You're in the city now, no longer sleeping in the woods. When everyone else has gone to bed, Karlach finds you in the study, a room attached to the main living quarters.
She knocks before entering. Your voice is soft as you tell her to come in. Dressed in your comfy night clothes, your hair damp from washing up. You're bent over the desk with a furrow in your brow that Karlach finds sweet.
"Hey, baby," She asks, her heart thumping soft "Hope I'm not disturbin' your research."
"Of course not," You reply back, encouraging her towards you "I'm actually due a break."
Wordlessly, you sit up from your chair, pointing for Karlach to sit. She follows through, a little confused as to what you're doing before you plop yourself back into her lap. She throws her head back in laughter.
"Don't know what I was expecting there," She giggles, arm curling around your waist "All cozy?"
"Mm," You melt yourself into her embrace, turning to look at her. Your eyes are soft, free hand cupping her face "I'm cozy. What's keeping you up, pretty girl?"
The words catch her off guard completely, her engine flaring from the heat.
"Shit, what's with that?" She glances down at you, smiling like the cheeky fucker you are "I can't get any redder, you know? It's making my engine burn."
"You like it, no?" Your voice is smooth, smug in a way that gets her hot "My pretty girl,"
Karlach stares at you as you say it. Traces the curve of your lips, the slight arch of your brow. Asses the weight and warmth of you as you lay your legs over her lap and feels her body start to react. She didn't think it was possible to feel so complete by someone, even among the impending doom at the end of the world.
With you it fades away to nothing. Permission to want freely, she had no idea she had wanted that so bad. She had no idea she could want more when you'd already given her so much.
It's nice to be greedy. A little greed is fine, after everything.
"If you keep talking to me like that, we're going to do a lot more than just sitting, you know?" She tells you seriously.
You smile and laugh but don't deny her "Only if you say please,"
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❈ LAE'ZEL ;
The Githyanki do not fall in love.
It's a fact of the culture, a mark of their honor. Love is for the soft, tender fleshed species of the material planes. It does not suit warriors, not the ruthless githyanki who spend their entire lives training the sword and learning magic. Love had always been a flimsy concept to Lae'zel. To the point she'd never thought about it or cared too. For the gith, there is only pleasure and carnal desire. The foolishness of longing can only be harbored in the lesser existence of the outer-world. The world outside of her creche.
For a long time, this was true for Lae'zel. She had never intended her time in the material plane to weaken her in the ways in which it did. Or that the experience of a ghaik parasite trapped behind her eyes would will her into cooperation with lesser beings. In many ways egregious, unfathomable. In trying to rid herself of one parasite, she'd found herself another one - more intolerable and more consuming than the first.
You. What a foreign and remarkable bond. From the beginning she had told you the truth, that the gith do not love and she would not be able to love you. Though she could admit passion, admit admiration for your courage, admit possession - she could not admit love. She knew nothing of it.
Over the course of your journey, you'd managed to prove her wrong. Slowly stripped bare of the identity she'd made her life around, you stripped Lae'zel down to her soul. Her most honored solider, and most formidable ally. When the time came, you'd told her to do what she must, to liberate her people. That you'd be there when she returned.
That you'd wait for her.
Months apart with few visits in between meant that each time Lae'zel sees you must make every minute count. Enjoying your body and indulging in carnal pleasures is only so much of that. What Lae'zel looks forward too most, she must admit, is the gentleness of your touch whenever she comes back to Fae'run.
Soft warm whispers among the indulgent plush of bed sheets and candles. A room that smells like lavender and oak, prayer books and scripture littered on the desk. A cleric of Bahamut, and a soul strong as steel.
But this, her head resting in your lap as you stroke her hair so carefully, is what she's missed most of all. No doubt she's going soft.
"Chk. You are smitten by the text in front of you as if you have forgotten of my return,"
You look down at Lae-zel with a laugh, carefully placing said book down on the bedside table. The voice you speak with her is different from her own. Tender fleshed even in your speech, you let her curl herself into you.
A vulnerable position, open to whatever may come.
"I'm sorry, pretty girl," You hum. The words practically startle her "I don't mean to neglect you. It was an interesting passage."
"Pretty...It is true among the githyanki, I am among the finest of their ranks," She replies, turning herself towards you - getting comfortable "Yet still, something stirs."
"Are you embarrassed?" You reply, delighted as her frown deepens. Before she has a chance to argue with you, you lean down to press your lips against hers briefly "How sweet of you."
"I do not get embarrassed," She insists, scowling as you begin to giggle at her "It was merely unexpected."
"You're beautiful to me, Lae'zel." You hum, stroking her cheek gently as she continues to lay herself across. Your eyes are tender and lidded. That look of obsession she recalled from the months prior returned in full, and no longer hidden. Unlike your other mortal companions, or the pale elf - there is nothing hidden in your words. No agenda "More beautiful than anyone else. At least to me. Getting to look at you so closely is a gift."
She softens, her hand gripping yours resting on her chest
"When it is over," She says seriously, a solemness to her voice "I will return to you. This I swear. Without you, the liberation of my people would be no less then a dream,"
You return her smile in kind.
"My pretty, wonderful girl," You hum. She loves you. She thinks she understands it now "I know you'll return to me, nailo. You always keep your promises."
"Yes," She says, an unfamiliar emotion overwhelming her "I will not forsake all we have promised."
The affection in your voice shakes Lae'zel to her core. Initial abrasion fades only into warmth. It's not so bad to hear, even if it is tender fleshed.
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▸ a/n ; the word reader uses for lae'zel is elvish for swift winds!! reader is meant to be sort of a book worm so you do not need to picture them as a elf and more of a linguist.
this is the most substantial thing i've written in the last few weeks so commentary is very appreciated. i'd be willing to do a minthara and halsin addition to this eventually if anyone is interested!!
anyways, baldurs gate companions i love u. reblogs so appreciated !
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madwomansapologist · 3 months
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Hi, are you still looking for Baldur's Gate 3 requests? Could you please write something about the main BG3 Companions (+ our boi Halsin) with a Tav/reader who's really short and adorable and just an absolute sweetheart but is horrifyingly powerful in their lore? Like NPCs who know about them back away in fear kinda thing. Maybe Tav can even transform into some sort of battle form where they're like 9 feet tall (as opposed to their usual height of like 4' 10") and can absolutely kick ass on the battlefield?
Thanks so much, I hope you have a wonderful day! Take care!
bg3 companions with a adorably powerful tav
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Navigation | More Weirdos | AO3
synopsis: Who could imagine such a sweet thing as you had the reputation of a hero?
warnings: companions (lae'zel, shadowheart, astarion, gale dekarios, wyll ravengard, karlach, halsin, jaheira) x tav. fluff.
note: thank you for your request! oh gods how i missed writing headcanons. i hope you like this, have a wonderful day!
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Lae'zel
Lae'zel knew your shared condition had a cure, and was willing to put herself in danger by taking the entire party with her to the nearest crèche. That being said, how couldn't she judge you?
You were too easy on everyone. Making promises you clearly shouldn't, taking them seriously despite her best efforts to put some sense in your head. The party was supposed to only stop walking when surrounded by githyankis, but no burdened tiefling or hurt animal escaped your careful gaze.
That you knew how to fight surprised her, but to see fear and admiration in the eyes of civillians... that made Lae'zel pay more attention to you. You had a reputation. Not as a writer, bard or patron. You're know for striking down your enemies.
Fighting at the goblin's camp, there were so many oponents even Lae'zel didn't knew if it would be her last fight. You saw it too, so you made sure to use everything you had to win. Even if you would rather not turn into an eldritch creature.
She got enchanted by your battle form. Steel and iron where nothing against the pure strenght of your skin. Whatever crossed your path that day suffered at your hands.
That was the first time Lae'zel got happy for being wrong about someone.
"Perhaps I've judged you too hard. You are fierce, foracious, as sharp as my sword and as brave as a red dragon. Keep on surprising me and a istik you'll be no more."
Shadowheart
Shadowheart couldn't care less about the tieflings and their problems, but it was endearing to watch you wandering throught the Coast in an attempt to ensure their safety. It was a sight she couldn't expect to observe in this journey, not when considering the worm twitching behind her eye and the artifact messing with their dreams.
Still, you could shut down her biggest fears with ease. While she tried to remain quiet, you were full of kind words to share with whoever was near. You care for all beings, great and small, and Shadowheart can respect that. A person without a truth to follow is empty, but one with a mission turns into so much more than just a walking corpse.
She focused on protecting you during fights. Always giving you some sort of magic shield, casting sanctuary, begging you to drink potions and elixirs that would keep you safe.
Goblins attacked, and for a second everyone was too surprised to react properly. Except by you. You were quick to defend your party, to fight for them, and won a fight no one was preparad to.
Shadowheart decided not to underestimate you again. Kind words, gentle actions, caring gaze: she was so focused on her own view about you that forgot to pay attention to the way everyone else saw you.
You're powerful. The kinda of powerful that their party had to be grateful that you were fighting besides them.
When you revealed your beast form to her, Shadowheart already knew you were a sight to behold.
"You are full of surprises, aren't you? Good. I like how you keep me on my toes, love."
Astarion
In theory, he should've been delighted with your personality. You were the perfect prey. A leader so sweet, he could change your mind at his will and you wouldn't even noticed. Others respect you. Astarion would be safe and sound.
But Astarion isn't capable of forgetting how easily you fought back when he tried to fool you. How he didn't even saw you moving, and was alone on the floor before he could understand what had hit him.
Instead of a person, you were a walking question mark. How can you be so sickenly adorable, and still so ready to strike down your enemies? Were did the sweet half of you finished and the other one started?
People know you. He saw respect in druid's eyes, fear when goblins heard your name. Halsin knew about you. And so did Minthara.
Few are able to live up to their reputation, but you're one of those. So strong, so brave, but your kindness wasn't ignored by him. It was as if in your head the whole world deserved your kindness, until it did no more. Only then you react.
Astarion don't know what to think about it.
When you attacked as a beast, tearing spiders apart as if they were a piece of meat in your plate, Astarion laughed until his belly ache.
How could be so right and so wrong about someone?
"Don't mind me, darling. I'm just rejoicing at the sight of your bloody hands. Come here. Let me taste your heroic mess."
Gale Dekarios
Gale learned two things about you when you pulled him out of stone: you were kind, and so damn strong.
You were adorable. A perfect equation between what people must do in order to survive and what they must do in order to live well. He can't see you not being surrounded by friends and admirers, all enchanted by your sweet words and rightful attacks.
He feared the party's reaction to the Orb, but a part of him knew you would let him stay. He never imagined you would give him magic artifacts without a second question, or that you would hug him after he told you his whole story.
You didn't let him go. Neither did Gale.
To say he was willing to agree with whatever you did was to say his heart beats. It was only natural. Maybe you both differ on the path you want to take, but the destination is usually the same.
When he saw you feral, body changing to give space to something else, Gale wondered if he was one of those enchanted people surrounding you. If he wasn't fighting for his life, Gale would gadly gaze upon you for the rest of the day.
"Disgusted? I was unable to look away from you! You are the one I love, no claws or tentacles will ever change that. Must I add, my love, your light remains strong in whatever form you decide to use."
Wyll Ravengard
To say the least, he's a fan. Oh, how lovely are the tales of your adventures through Faêrun. He remember arguing with bards about the accuracy of their versions and the reason behind their choice of words. You were what a hero must aim to.
How long were the nights he spend wandering after he was casted out of Baldur's Gate. Lonely nights, but never silent. Wyll's mind fought against itself. He lost everything to help and protect others. Sometimes he worried if he had lost himself too.
Your tales weren't his salvation. None of them shut down those voices that insisted on telling him about the mistakes he made, neither did them shut Mizora. But they inspired him. If you did all those things, remained human even as a beast, he could survive a talkative cambion. Wyll Ravengard can defeat her by staying loyal to himself.
Wyll didn't had to hear your name to know you were fighting next to him, defending the grove against goblins and worgs. He saw enough drawings of you to recognize you from miles afar. When you asked him to be a member of your party, Wyll felt as if a million fireworks exploded inside his chest at the same time.
He did felt anger and pain because of the tadpole, but never fear. Fighting beside you, Wyll knew he didn't had to fear for his future. And after seeing how willing you were to argue with multiple cambions, he started to have hope.
"I used to read about legends, myths of bravery and rightousness. Some see it as just tales for the naive. Thank you, my heart. For proving them wrong time after time."
Karlach
She's the only one with an excuse for not knowing who you are. When strangers call you by your entire name, when companions use your epithet: Karlach just never thought about it. She ignored it, paying no mind to others.
But Karlach did knew you were a absolute sweetheart. What you didn't had of height you compensate with a gigantic personality. For her, the way you behaved was simply alluring.
While many prefer to think the world is a bad place and no one living there can chose to be or do better, you are just another reason for her to know that it's bullshit. Because Karlach is good, despise it all. And Wyll. And you.
And Minsc!!!
You had a fire on you whenever you had to fight. She didn't need to know your story to see how great you can be. Some people just have that. She don't know if that fire is born or forged, but some people just have it.
To see you as a beast made her the most happy woman in Faêrun. She got speechless, all she could do was laugh and run around to have a better view of you ending the Steel Watch.
"You got 'em, soldier! Go on, bite his arm off! You see that monster over there? The one with glowing eyes. That's the love of my fucking life."
Halsin
He saw you before. Druids and harpist fought against sharrans, and you were one of the heroes who joined their cause. At that time Halsin didn't talked to you, but he knew you fought until the very end and stayed to help with the infirm.
When you rescued him, Halsin knew you remembered him too. There was some understanding between you both, a companionship that only those who foght together can share.
He knew you were a hero, one of those who fight wars that don't affect them because someone needs too, but your personality was a good surprise. Halsin haven't imagined you so easy going. Always offering smiles, light jokes, being clumsy without a care when danger was far away.
After the battle against sharrans, he thought those who refered to you as a monster were trying to make others understand how eficient you were. It surprised him to see they were just being honest.
Nothing would stop Halsin from turning into a bear and joining you.
"In this damned city, you are a beacon of hope. The Oak Father graced us with your light. From your fiece strikes to your honey soaked words... I am lucky to live at the same time as you, my love."
Jaheira
As a fellow adventurer, it surprised Jaheira that you weren't already tired. You both lived for so long, did so much, it would be only natural for you to give a pause on your endless smiles and envied patience. She was wrong, but that wasn't a bad thing.
Jaheira knew how this life can steal things from you. Peace feels like a threat, to stop make you feel like a prey, to laugh makes you wonder if it will be the last time. Is impossible to be a hero without losing. She's glad you didn't lose yourself in your path.
There was an unspoken pact between you both. The stories, the songs, the faux memories. So many think to know everything about you two. Sometimes Jaheira will read you a book you're in when she knows it's a shameless lie, and you sing her songs about adventures she did not lived.
Your laugh could make her feel younger. Alive. You both were so differents, but knew each other in a way few could.
Whenever you chose to strike as a monster, she would join you as a myrmidon and had her fun. You both deserve it.
"I did well not underestimating you, cub. It is impossible not to laugh at those who can't see how your bright smile hides sharp fangs. As pretty as a diamond, and as fierce too."
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if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡
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