Hey folx and welcome! This blog is currently dedicated primarily to Baldur's Gate 3 content, both reblogging other's work and posting my writing related to my OC, Miss Fortune, and Astarion. You can also find me on insta, same handle @missfortunetherogue - I mostly post bg3 memes and screenshots there.
About me
Primarily keeping myself out of this but I can share a little. While Miss Fortune isn't a self-insert character you can still call me Miss Fortune (or Rogue) if you wish.
✨ Non-binary (they/them pronouns), queer/demisexual
✨ Favorite bands: Sleep Token, Lord of the Lost, Motionless in White
✨ Other favorite video games (BG3 obvs takes top spot): Persona 5, Okami, Skyrim, Stardew Valley
✨ Other interests: making chainmail, veggie gardening, mythology and folklore (esp. Japanese folktales and yokai), gluten free baking
More favorites in this post
My writing
My main fic currently is The Embrace of Love and Death, which will have three parts (one for each act of the game). Following that, I have plans for a post-canon story (untitled) following Miss Fortune and Astarion - it'll be a spy/assassin's guild kind of story where the rogues get to keep being cute, sneaky, and stabby. I also have several short rests which are flash fiction stories showing in-between moments or backstory glimpses.
The Embrace of Love and Death (link goes to tag)
Part 1: Reluctance (complete)
Part 2: Rediscovery - (ongoing - 4 chapters published)
Part 3: Reclamation - TBD
Short rests (Miss Fortune POV unless otherwise stated):
All Tied Up and Nowhere to Go (Tumblr) (AO3)
Let Me Help You with That! (Tumblr) (AO3)
Unpacking the Poison - Astarion POV (Tumblr) (AO3)
Wake Up, Darling! Part 1 - Astarion POV (Tumblr) (AO3)
Wake Up, Darling! Part 2 - Astarion POV (Tumblr) (AO3)
Wake Up, Darling! Part 3 - Astarion POV (Tumblr) (AO3)
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Tagged by the ever adorable @cep-stories …see her answer here
From…The price of power
And so I sat down to read of Netheril: an empire where arcanists ruled rather than idiot merchant princes, where mythallars bore whole cities into the heavens, and humankind rose at last to rival the lost wonders of Aryvandaar.
I had intended only to finish an assigned chapter before sleep claimed me. Instead I found myself reading until dawn, for there are few intoxicants more potent than wonder — that somewhere, once, mortals had come within touching distance of the divine.
Tagging @archduchessgortash @gortashsrighthand @alliskit @sanguinescoven @missfortunetherogue @rdekarios and @lilhumanoid
I was tagged by @litsenn , @fireflyeyes , @cinder-rellish181 , @thesanguinesonnet , @bladesingerlily and @deianestormborn <3
QSAT was being a lil bitch with me and I was possessed by a dark Gortavia brainworm and Cassandra on a little honeypot mission.
"I do know how to disturb peace very well," he laughed as he drank from his cup and she mirrored the movement, keeping her eyes on her as the cup pushed against her lips. The red wine would stain her lips and coated her tongue in its aroma.
"You do strike me as the type."
It made him laugh, a rumbling one that came up from down inside of his lungs. It was not too hard to imagine how someone else would be charmed by him, she could see it. It was a shame for him that she was not that kind of person, he was the prey in the situation and she was the predator.
"Name is Rugan, can I get yours?"
"Cassandra."
Gently tagging @carnivaley , @dynamicducks , @toomanyfamiliars , @theendofanerror , @saylofwaterdeep , @asorceresswrites , @ele-millennial-weirdo , @arlynx , @unovafarm , @missfortunetherogue , @archduchessgortash , @doomedlamb , @wasteful-sam and a lil reverse tag for the sweethearts who tagged me.
What if your TAV/OC was an Origin Character and they could have evil endings? What would those endings be?
Was tagged literally two months and a day ago by the lovely @gortashsrighthand (see their post) and only now got a chance to give this the attention it deserved.
Gentle tags for @endermal @lilhumanoid @cinder-rellish181 @optimisticgrey @chaushaus @elceewunjo @spillingteanotpermitted @litsenn @theya-art @lucretiouswept @unovafarm @careful-l-bite @andromedaancunin @alwaysmauria @et-augury @grandninjamasterren @scoldingdarjeeling @carnivaley @bladesingerlily and an open tag to anyone else who didn't get a chance to do this on the first go-around!
Miss Fortune, The Pleasure Empress of Baldur's Gate
You know that the true currency of humanity is flesh and sin. You have always known this. With the right pleasures on offer, you can bring rulers to their knees, topple mercantile dynasties, maybe even start a war or two.
With the city at your beck and call, there is no sin too perverse, no desire too obscure. Everything, anything, and anyone is on offer. And while everyone is looking away, lost in the throes of their own escape, you're free to take whatever. you. wish.
And what of the poor fools who can't pay? Well...it's simple, really. You own them. Gambling dens, brothels, fighting rings, drug grottos...these places don't staff themselves. There are plenty of options to choose from to work off a few thousand gold. Too bad the interest rates are as steep as the stiletto heels you never leave your room without.
Evil ending for Miss Fortune would be perpetuating the cycle they were born into, where lives can be bought and sold and the highest bidder gets to decide what happens to them. Miss Fortune would either kill the Madam and take her spot, or she would offer them a position as her right-hand man.
To be clear, it would take an extraordinary amount of bad decisions and/or persuasion to get them to go down this path. The player would essentially have to manipulate MF into thinking they are loved and then break up with them in the cruelest way possible, thus crushing their budding conceptions that love is possible.
An evil ending Miss Fortune is a person who has completely detached themselves from their emotional self and thinks only in terms of the physical. Material goods, hedonistic delights, etc.
Thank you @hellethil for the tag! I really enjoyed learning a bit more about your girl. She’s definitely ready for many fics!
Here’s the relatively (mostly) spoiler-free info on Rin…
Basics
Name: Rinoah Merriweather
Alias: Rin (everyone), Rinnie (childhood friends), Babygirl/Clever Cat (mother), Freckles (Karlach), Ridiculous Bard (Astarion, earlier), Love/Kitten/Madwoman/Goddess of Light and Mischief/*redacted sappy elvish things* (Astarion, later), Nora/Rina/Noah/Roa (various criminal associates).
Background: Urchin
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Bi/Pan
Pronouns: She/Her
Other
Family: Rin is the only child of Claudia and Adrian Merriweather. Her parents were both human, so she was a surprise. They were travelling bards, and Rin spent her early childhood on the road with their troupe. When she was about nine, they moved to Baldur’s Gate so that Rin could attend school. That’s were things went sideways - Claudia died of a fever, her father fell to alcoholism, and she essentially raised herself on the streets.
Birthplace: A random little town somewhere on the road, at the midnight between one year and the next.
Phobias/Fears: Quite a few. But the canon Tav fear that started this whole story is her first: She’s afraid of krakens.
Hobbies: Music, stories, naps, reading (later), learning new things, generalised chaos, messing with the fabric of reality.
Morals
Alignment: (Very) Chaotic Good.
Flaws: She can be very impulsive. She is terrible at taking her own (usually excellent) advice. She under-estimates her value to others. She is deeply insecure and quite anxious, beneath the act of bardic confidence. She is, occasionally, destructive on a massive scale.
Virtues: She loves easily. She can be very insightful (when it comes to other people). She is kind. She viciously defends the people she cares about. She is clever, mostly. She is wise, sometimes. She is brave.
This or That
I made myself pick a side for each, rather than go for the middle. I’d love to know whether my readers would agree!
Introvert/Extrovert
Organised/Disorganised
Closed-Minded/Open-Minded
Calm/Anxious
Disagreeable/Agreeable
Patient/Impatient
Outspoken/Reserved
Leader/Follower
Empathetic/Apathetic
Optimist/Pessimist
Traditional/Modern
Hard Working/Lazy
No pressure tags! Or anyone join in! @missfortunetherogue @thepickledmermaid @greiiliss @davenswitcher
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Read the full second part of "The Journey Home" on AO3
Prev installments: Miss Fortune POV
Baldur's Gate couldn't be but a few days' creaky-kneed hikes away. Which meant that Sorcerous Sundries was dangling just out of Gale of Waterdeep's weave-worn hands. So close he could practically smell the unparalleled odor of time-worn parchment and expensive ink, could envision the beckoning tendrils of incense smoke and feel the weight—at once inviting and imposing—of hard-earned knowledge in his grip.
And yet…he was still far enough away that those same hands could not cease their impuissant fidgeting.
He could only hope whatever knowledge awaited him was worth the hurdles he would no doubt be required to jump to obtain it. It was Tara herself who often reminded Gale of the old adage that curiosity killed the cat, but he'd always counted on his brilliance and quick wits to circumvent the inevitable.
For what greater purpose was there beyond the pursuit of knowledge no matter the cost? If his life became forfeit over a fact or scrap of skill, well, it meant he had grown careless and likely deserved what he got.
One of his hands rose, subconsciously tapping the scar-ravaged skin over where the orb sat, dormant yet no less malignant. In response, its hunger gnawed at the cage Elminster placed around it.
"Gale? Are you well?" Wyll questioned from his narrow bed in their shared inn room.
The Blade's smoked hickory voice snapped the wizard from his daze, a bilious bubble rising up his throat at the sight of what was once a puff of phosphorescent moss—a spell component he never left home without—now just spongy strands strewn about the thick quilt he sat on.
"Mystra's Mantle, would you look at this mess!" Gale muttered, easing himself up to salvage his component from the bedspread. He doubted he'd get more than a flicker if he attempted a Light spell with these.
"Looks like you need to find a less destructive way to keep your hands—and mind—occupied, friend," Wyll urged with a chuckle.
Had the suggestion come from anyone else, Gale might have interpreted it to be a flirtation, perhaps even an invitation. But Wyll's eyes lacked so much as a hint of desire. Indeed, he had not so much as cracked an eye open when he suggested it, his cornrowed head still resting on his arms to keep his horns from puncturing the pillow. Which was perfectly amenable, Gale assured himself. Wyll was handsome and sweet, surely, but Gale had no desire to position himself in an an acute angle of a love triangle with Karlach.
"Quite right you are," Gale chuckled instead. "Perhaps a jaunty stroll to clear my mind."
Before the toe of his soft-soled slipper so much as padded onto the bottom step to the inn's ground floor, the scent of home caressed his cheek. The unmistakable tang of tamarind filled the air, and Gale's first thought was to question what magic the cook had cast to conjure fresh quipper fish this far inland when an army was obfuscating the trade routes.
But his mouth watered anyhow at the thought of crisp battered filets soaked in Waterdeep's renowned and rich Hundur sauce, and he could not stop his feet from taking him to the threshold of the kitchen.
Gale also could not contain his surprised hum when instead of billowing clouds of flour and heating oil he found the father and daughter duo cubing pork and swirling rice in a sieve, milky-white water running into a shallow pan they would indubitably use to dry the excess starch into a powder for thickening future soups. A pan full of tamarind simmered softly, the umber skins already popping open to reveal the pods of flavorful pulp inside.
Gale's stomach rumbled, and his mind sharpened.
"May I inquire as to what delightful dish you fine cooks are preparing?"
Although Gale's voice was bright and cheerful it still caused the cooks to jump in surprise.
"I thought perchance a Hundur sauce, but I have never seen it served with pork, and the rice has me stumped, for my next guess would have been tamarind noodle stir fry," he offered helpfully, hoping to shuck open their clamshell shyness.
"Oh! Haha, you gave us a right fright, Saer," the daughter laughed huskily, one deft hand shifting the tamarind off the flame in nearly the same instant as her other hand slammed an onion onto a cutting board, causing her long, flame-colored braid to slither along her back.
"I trust you will accept my humblest apologies! I caught a scent of the city of splendors and like a person possessed by the spirit of homesickness my feet carried me to your threshold before I knew what I was doing."
"No apologies necessary," the older gentleman waved him off. "No Hundur sauce tonight; it's been ages since we've been able to get our hands on fresh fish. Nay, we're making a dish we learned from a Korinnian traveler called Sour-Broth Stew."
Gale's mind spun in several directions at once: inquisitive about the dish itself and the story it may have come with; hopeful that this could be the distraction he sought; excited by the thought of helping introduce his companions to something new.
When he made no move to leave, the gentleman's smile stretched into a tight grin that left his eyes colder than an unlit stove on a winter morning. The smile of someone who had been in customer service far too long and realized that sometimes the best way to get someone to leave him alone was to give in to whatever strange inclinations they had.
"I don't suppose you'd like to learn how the dish is made, Saer?" the gentleman threw out, voice strained.
"Nothing could delight me more!" Gale jumped in, scarcely waiting for him to finish. He wasn't unsympathetic to the man's attitude; he was just more certain that his skills with a paring knife would win him over by the end. "But I am well aware that the kitchen is no place for the idle. If you've a spare knife, I will be your most humble pupil for the evening."
Father and daughter exchanged glances, their eyes lingering in a silent conversation that went on long enough that Gale's fingers reached back into his pocket to pick at the severed strands of phosphorescent moss he had massacred earlier. But just as he thought to walk back his offer the daughter shrugged, and the father returned his attention to the brooch on Gale's purple tunic.
"My youngest fell ill so we're short-handed anyhow." The man nodded to the apron hanging behind him, his ginger bun bobbing at the back of his head.
"I assure you, you will not regret this!" Gale crowed as he tied the apron. Its strings were slightly slick with the oil of hundreds, perhaps thousands, of fingerprints.
"I don't say this to be braggadocious, but I have been making mouthwatering meals out of ever-dwindling rations for my companions the past couple of moons and have accomplished the nigh-insurmountable task of keeping their various and sundry appetites satisfied," he doubled down as he fished a hair tie from his other pocket and kneaded his hair into a bun to mimic the man's.
While his professors at Blackstaff Academy might argue that Gale's prodigious mind was wasted in the kitchen, in this moment living up to one's potential felt as trivial as a pop quiz on cantrips. Although his mind still ran through the endless possibilities of the netherbrain crown's precise taxonomy, the calculations grew less intrusive as the former archmage lost himself in the humble pursuit of achieving culinary perfection.
Between slivers of chopped onion toppling behind his knife and the sting of pungent garlic in his nose, Gale felt the twinge of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Instead of hedging bets on which tomes he could find at Sorcerous Sundries, the wizard instead focused on the sizzle of cubed pork searing in a tall pot, in the starchy aroma of rice steaming in a clay pot on the back burner, the cloying tang of tamarind being squeezed into a wooden bowl.
The cooks neither offered up a tale of the Korrinnian traveler nor admonishments of Gale's efforts, instead dancing around him and one another in a domestic synchronization only earned by years of repeating the same steps until it rivaled the unconscious ease of breathing.
Occasionally, the father barked out an instruction for Gale, which the wizard, sponge-like and sweaty-browed, soaked up. His catalog-like mind documented each step of the dish's preparation in minute detail until he was certain he would be able to recreate it at will from the comforts of his tower's kitchen.
As predicted, by the time the Sour-Broth Stew had bubbled its last on the stove, the cooks thanked Gale for his efforts and gave him the honor of ladling out the first bowls for himself and his friends. When he set down the last two bowls in front of Halsin and himself, polychromatic pork collagen shimmering like Dancing Lights on the stew's surface, the wizard felt positively eupeptic.
Karlach had already inhaled the entire contents of her bowl, stray grains of rice left sizzling on her chin while she instead stared longingly at Astarion's portion. The vampire pushed the contents around with perfunctory passes of his spoon, his crimson gaze fixed longingly on Miss Fortune's neck. It was sheer luck that none of the small-town folk had tried to burn the inn down around Astarion or stake him in the night, for the vampire made no secret of his hunger for his lover's blood.
"You know, Gale, we've the coin to pay for room and board," Miss Fortune teased between dainty bites of stew. "You didn't have to indenture yourself to the cooks to earn us dinner."
"You should have seen him before," Wyll crooned before Gale could reply for himself. "Tearing through his spell components like a bored student stuck at a desk writing his letters. The man needed something to do."
"That was one element of the matter, yes," Gale offered with a warm smile. "But I am of a mind to learn whenever the opportunity presents itself, and when I smelled the tangy tamarind and learned the cooks were preparing a traditional Korinnian—"
"Spare us the lecture, wizard," Astarion drawled, a clawed hand catching Miss Fortune by the chin and turning them his way for an immodest kiss that left little of their private life to the imagination. A dull ache twisted in his chest to watch them, and although Gale felt certain it was not jealousy he could not pinpoint what it was.
There would be time to itemize those emotions later, in the comforting darkness of his room. It was time to taste the fruits of his labor. Blowing lightly on the spoon, Gale gingerly pressed his lips to the cube of pork ensconced upon the utensil before taking a bite. An explosion of flavor—sweet, savory, sour, umami—set fireworks off in his brain. This dish was precisely the distraction he needed right now, and the wizard was thankful to have a full bowl before him.
Thanks so much for the tag @litsenn and @thesanguinesonnet!! This is such a fun one and I loved both of your posts~
Reimagine your OC as a music artist! Recast them as a real musician - who would they be? Which era, which genre, which iconic album covers and messy tabloid moments? Or invent their music career from scratch - stage name, sound, aesthetic, lyrics, the works. Bonus questions: What's their biggest hit about? What are they like on stage vs in interviews? Do they have a rival? What do the fans call themselves?
lol @ my photomode again (the angle. the expression. why did i not add any like blood or smoke or lights or something what are we DOING here) but whateverrrr y'all get it ok
One thing about Jamie is that they canonically wish they could've been a bard! I mentioned once that Jamie's first boyfriend was a tiefling named Sorrow Deepcut... They were drawn to him primarily because he was an edgy self-taught bard making weepy tunes on a stolen lyre that he painted street-art-style. This is not based on any personal experience of mine IRL haha I swear 👀 trust me
ANYWAY. Jamie never learned an instrument, but they've always been drawn to music, especially drums. In one of the many AUs in my head, Jamie's pact with Mephistopheles actually empowers their music. They can use their blood to forge drumsticks (like canon Jamie can with blades/lockpicks/whatever) that are perpetually in sync with Jamie's will, basically an extension of Jamie. Whatever Jamie wants, whatever they feel as they play, the sticks will do, and they'll do it quicker than Jamie can even really think. That makes them an incredible, fast, and soulful drummer who is renowned for a raw, no-holds-barred sound.
There's also some showmanship to them, although they'd deny it if you asked. Their signature move is closing out every show by throwing their sticks above their head and turning them back into blood, drenching themself with it and laughing like a freak. You can't help but pay attention to that, whether you're disgusted, excited, enticed... You're watching, you're listening, you're in the moment with Jamie.
[imagine a really cool VP here that I do not have the skills to make lmao]
Most of their music would be about typical Jamie themes: fighting the Flaming Fist, blood, reclaiming your agency, anarchy, loving your friends, snacks, growing up all alone and scared, etc. Most people would be scandalized, but Jamie would be extremely fucking popular in the Undercity and with disaffected Lower City and Outer City youth. Baldurian teens are consistently catching hell from their parents for sneaking out at night to venture into the Undercity for Jamie's shows lol
In my current playthrough, a Jamie-as-Durge AU, I've multiclassed them as a College of Blood Bard and Mephistopheles Warlock (thank you, modders!). They use a hand drum, and some of the Bard dialogue lines really are perfect for them.
Also: Post-BG3 they'd write exactly one (1) love song about Astarion. It would be heartfelt, but they'd also make it intentionally super cringey, totally over the top, just to mortify him/make him laugh. (They wouldn't play it publicly - they don't want to actually embarrass him in front of people, dw)
Speaking of Astarion, he probably comes to a handful of Jamie's shows, but he mostly prefers to do his own thing in the evenings and then listen to them tell him all about it later. My HC (or maybe this is canon?) is that elves and vampires have a powerful sense of hearing, and Astarion being both of those can hear way too well so Jamie's screamy punk drums are a bit much for him lol. He does, however, enjoy the part where they melt their blood-drumsticks all over themself... but he can see (and taste) their blood anytime, darling, there's no reason to force himself into a shoddy tavern packed with the sweaty public and listen to that racket 💅🏻 (He genuinely loves/respects Jamie but their music is stylistically Not His Preference lol. Jamie understands this.)
One "modern-with-magic" AU I think about sometimes has Jamie as an up-and-coming punk rock drummer who signed to Blood Lord Records, run by the abusive exec Mephistopheles. Jamie saw the deal as their only chance to get out of their shithole hometown and try to make it as an artist. But of course, Jamie quickly becomes the label's cash cow; Meph's got them touring eleven months out of the year and constantly churning out new music they don't even like anymore but meets the world's insatiable appetite for fresh content that fits a certain sound. Meanwhile, Astarion is a costumer/makeup artist with Szarr Artistry, a controversial company that provides many... services... in the entertainment industry... and appears to be in a Very Serious Contract with Blood Lord Records. Astarion, Jamie, and the party end up going on tour together one summer aaaaaand you can guess where that goes 🥁🩸🖤
In any AU, modern or not, Jamie Cross in interviews is literally just regular Jamie Cross. There is only one way to be Jamie, and Jamie's gonna be that way every single time. Good luck getting any kind of useful answers to your questions. I can't stop picturing them in Kurt Cobain's CORPORATE MAGAZINES STILL SUCK t-shirt.
Okay and finally, here's Jamie's playlist! Some of it is music they would make (in a modern AU I guess), some of it is music they would like, and some of it is just stuff that makes me think of them/their story. A band with Jamie as the drummer/leader would probably end up sounding a lot like FIDLAR if I had to pick one band (FIDLAR's vocalist is also Jamie's voiceclaim lol so)
Don't think I forgot about Venerea. My girl is giving a DeathbyRomy/Poppy/ZAND/Hole combo with a side of Amy Winehouse, which I desperately want to see. Here's her playlist also.
tysm if you read all the way through! Tagging anyone who wants to join <3
especially (but still gently) tagging @gloura and @riddlerosehearts since I know you've got bards! Elenion is canonically a celebrity ⭐️ and also @bladesingerlily and @optimisticgrey - I'm so curious about Lily and Celeste as musicians!
Thank you so much @the-red-drow for the tag 🖤Your VP for this game is phenomenal!
This one is purely self indulgent and can steer into NSFW territory depending on where you go with it. Did your TavDurge make the ...'deal' with Haarlep? (on a meta level, I'm not sure I ever could say no to it, making fun of Raphael is always appreciated).
And even if they didn't - think about it for a moment and, just like them looking just slightly different to Raphael, design Haarlep using your OCs form. Put them side by side with your blorbo to show the minuscule differences. Have fun, go wild.
Ellith shamelessly played Haarlep's game and gladly accepted the deal. What the incubus didn't know, was that Ellith had already delt with such creatures before and got some of their powers from a former deal a succubus.
🔞NSFW below🔞
El is all but impressed by Haarlep, and they plan to find him post game events.
Now, what they're going to do when they'll meet again remains to be seen...
After all, Ellith finds themself very attractive. And they're not afraid of playing with devils.
Maybe there's more power to get from Haarlep, or at least, some fun.
As for Astarion, he isn't sure about the whole "playing with devils" thingy, but somewhere in his wet dreams, things are happening...
Huge thanks to @87000beesinapersonsuit, @thesanguinesonnet, @kt-catt, @optimisticgrey, @graysparrowao3 for the tags this week!
I'm still working on Outsiders' Welcome, and I'm actually feeling pretty damn confident that I'll finish it this time (which is 100% thanks to all the sweethearts who've been encouraging me 🫂❤️)
Besides, both I and the characters have finally reached Rilsa Rael, and at this point there's really no turning back
The Kingpin had dealt in cut and clarity long enough to know that most of what walked in dressed as treasure was paste - glass with a good story and a better lamp behind it - and that the only honest way to read a thing was to take it out of the flattering light the seller had chosen for it.
So she held the stranger to a plain light, in her head, and began - unhurried, the way she'd have gone over a necklace some grieving widow swore was her grandmother's - to look for the flaw, because the oldest names were the easiest to counterfeit and the most expensive to be wrong about.
Did not find it. That was the first unwelcome thing.
Even under such handling she could read the cut of her: the true southern line of the jaw, and the sense to know that thrashing got your throat opened and waiting did not. So the woman waited, folded back against Yusef's chest with a thread of her own blood running from beneath the blade and drying in a thin line along her collarbone - where she'd learned this lesson the fast way. Then the chin came up. Beneath it, a pair of green eyes that hadn't the decency to be frightened.
No pressure at all, as always @missfortunetherogue, @akelan, @unmoderatedzhentarim, @dramatiquechipmunk, @unovafarm and anyone with a WIP to share :3
Thank you for the tag @kt-catt !! 🙌🏻 I loved learning about your lovely OCs! 💖💖💖
Here's mine! 🫶🏻
Gentle tags: @unovafarm @rdekarios @eliwyntorleth @losersmidnights @wyfyoyo @galacticsparkles @spillingteanotpermitted @missfortunetherogue and anyone else who would like to join!
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I've lost track of the tag titles. My apologies to 🌟@elceewunjo, 🌟@bloodsol94 & 🌟@emmyandthetieflings!
This is a hefty WIP divided into three parts. The chapter as a whole is much worse (steamier). A link is provided for anyone frustrated enough - because yes, cliffhangers, lol. This will be the last WIP for a good long while. I'm retreating to the writer's dungeon, and I have a heap of obligations to tackle (even if this technically counts as vacation)
Enjoy!
18+ below, pairing: Halsin x OC, location: The Healing Springs (waterfall)
Summary: Look at this terrifyingly desirable man realize that the woman he wants cannot stop looking at him, and watch him enjoy every second of it
She had seen Halsin shirtless before, even changed beside him, but always with her back turned whenever he unlaced his pants, and he had never looked at her. Now… her eyes mapped out what her mind had only dared to imagine: the divine curve of his glutes wrought in strength. Halsin was as naked as the day he was born; the flex of his muscles hinted at what was to come. Her heart raced.
He hummed softly, twisting his torso as he moved a washcloth in long, unhurried sweeps over his throat, across his chest, down to washboard abs. Every motion followed the wild trail of sprawling, dark hair. Tempest’s breath shortened, quickened, drawn to the hypnotic rhythm of his hands. She couldn’t look away, her gaze drifting downward to reveal the jutting profile—of his cock.
From that moment, thought ceased. She was all sensation—riveted, frozen. She knew she should leave, hide, vanish.
Look away!
But she couldn’t. Her every muscle wound tight like a spring, ready to snap.
That thing is massive... as thick as my wrist!
She had heard the old sayings—shower or grower—but even flaccid, Halsin was intimidating. The sheer thickness of his male member, and the fact that he was uncut too, stole her breath away, leaving her throat dry.
The care Halsin had lavished on his upper body extended downward.
His movements slowed, deliberate. One hand guided the cloth over his pubic hair while the other cupped the shaft, lifting, with a long, luxurious stroke, revealing the glans, thumb gently rubbing. A soft groan escaped him, making the hairs on her arms and neck stand on end.
I shouldn’t be watching this…
Something glinted in her periphery—her eyes snapped to the formation of quartz by the water's edge, to find her necklace resting there, just a short distance from where Halsin stood.
“Care to join me?” The Grand Druid chuckled in his Elven dialect.
Tempest’s eyes widened.
II
The look he gave her was molten, a wicked curve to his lips.
It was not the look of a man uncomfortable with his state of undress. Quite the contrary, he seemed to stand even taller, beneath the falling water.
“I was just thinking about you…” Halsin rumbled, nodding toward a pelt laid out on a flat stone. Tempest could only shake her head in panic.
Halsin laughed—dark, amused—and something in that sound brushed dangerously against her feminine core.
“Valourheart indeed,” he went on. “Not everyone can boast of wandering into an ancient bear’s den and living to tell about it.”
Propriety had been hammered into her bones: nudity was shameful, sinful, a sign of moral decay and lack of discipline. Skin was something to hide, to fear, to deny.
But Halsin’s people saw it differently; nudity was natural, neutral—a simple state of being. She had never asked him outright, but it wasn’t hard to imagine that philosophy suited him well, given how much he loathed wearing clothes.
Yet she couldn’t help feeling like a pervert.
What the hells am I doing? This is voyeurism! Accidental, but still! LEAVE.
She blinked, dazed, only then realizing he was speaking directly to her. That he knew she was there. That she had been gawking at him, likely hearing the frantic spiral of her thoughts. Mortification roared through her—she should throw herself into a bow, beg forgiveness, or fling herself off the nearest cliff.
But worse than the shame was the way her body reacted. The sudden, gut-deep arousal that rooted her to the spot… and the way Halsin’s blown-out gaze didn’t help. If anything, it made her feel as if he was savoring her reaction.
What is he doing?! No, no, no—don’t come over here! Please!
Finishing his washing, Halsin waded through the waters. Iridescent ripples of blue and green trailed around him as he approached, emerging in all his tousled, wet, glistening glory. Every pigment, every freckle, every scar was lit by the warm flush of copper in his skin. This wasn’t the wise, measured elder druid she knew. This was Halsin, with hot blood flowing through his veins.
III
She wasn’t standing before him in any official capacity. Clothed or not, she felt naked beneath that gaze. The awareness struck her spine like a spark—she felt seen, and hunted.
The brutal beauty of his body threatened to swallow her vision.
There was nothing soft about him; the sheer size of him stole the air from her lungs. Her gaze followed the dips and swells of his form, the wet fall of russet-brown hair streaked with gold—longer now, she realized, brushing past his shoulders. She had rarely seen it down like this.
His dripping, calloused hands hung relaxed at his sides. Yet there was a predatory grace in his stride, something controlled, confident, unhurried. He didn’t turn away. He didn’t hide a single inch of himself from her.
Tempest had never seen all of it before. But there had been many an evening spent by the campfire, wondering what exactly it looked like, and how far below the waistband it went. The blood-red vines, added—as was tradition—after a successful completion of the Three Circle trials, decided by combat, now extended from the side of his face, wound around his neck and arm, branching out across the right side of his torso, and deeper still, dipping into the ‘V’ of his pelvis and fading at the root of his manhood.
Stepping onto the ledge of the pool, Halsin’s silhouette was, in an instant, swallowed in shadow; she could only track him by the preternatural glow reflecting in his eyes. He closed in on her against the backdrop of the new moon and the starry night sky, above the forest.
Stopping just a hair's breadth away, to catch a coil of her silver hair, looping it around his finger before pulling it down—watching it spring back.
Snapping Tempest out of her stupor.
Her mouth moved uselessly before she uttered the one thing she did not mean to say: “You’re here…”
“Mh-hmm…” Halsin purred.
“I—I meant to say that this—there was... a squirrel! And I—I wasn’t expecting…” Tempest managed to convey her meaning with a series of frantic pointing and waving, in the general direction of the giant crystals, her neck a deep flush of red.
“A... squirrel?” Halsin echoed, brow raised in question as he turned away toward his designated spot. “Must’ve slipped my notice...” he concluded with insouciant charm.
Warning: Leopard print may be too hot for some druids.
Exercise extreme caution while wearing
Inspired and dressed by a new WIP mod from @dramatiquechipmunk
Was taking shots for @dramatiquechipmunk's upcoming outfit mod and it felt like the perfect clubbing attire, so my mind jumped to "that club scene" from Heated Rivalry and here we are, the HR crossover for Astarion and Miss Fortune, with Octavia as the unwitting wing-woman 😉
I couldn't decide whether I liked the simple split or the one with the words
For anyone not familiar, this is the scene in question - but of course the video cuts out right before the devastating shot where they've both noticed each other and Shane's face just breaks your heart.
Tagging according to tag list: @cinder-rellish181 @optimisticgrey @chaushaus @spillingteanotpermitted @litsenn @theya-art @lucretiouswept @unovafarm @andromedaancunin @alwaysmauria @et-augury
Also..I was going to photoshop in glasses on my cat who is the real expert of fan fic…but the mood board prompt is the only graphic arts project I can deal with today!
There seems to be a general malaise skulking about my fandom friends! AI bots spamming AO3…weird lil’ anons bullying and harassing blogs, the broader world wide bullshit! So.. I’m feeling skippy and full of toxic adjacent positivity, I’m going to take Tuesdays to talk about the wonderful shit I see in the BG3 fandom, maybe other places, and just be annoyingly optimistic.
This is Mische…he is a fan fic expert. I am not. So I’m letting him take it from here!
Today’s theme is elegant gender OC presentations….
In no particular order…
@sanguinescoven
Her OC Bernadette is a level zero employee of Bath and Body Works! Her story is gothic horror meets modern rom com with and incredibly heavy dose of monster f*cking…I love that Bernadette conforms to absolutely no “fantasy girl” tropes. This is a laugh/cry/OMG read every time!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
@rdekarios
I’m sure everyone who has touched VP that isn’t console bound knows her mod snapshots, her pose packs, and he collabs with other creators, but I don’t see enough about her Tav, Seraphina…
Phina never becomes a cliche. She is smart. She is grounded. She wants nothing to do with anything that goes on during canon events and it’s as close to cozy modern genre fic as I have seen anywhere. I smile every time I see Phina.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
@tynithia
Literally no one has more fantastic She-OCs in the fandom!
Ellandra, Morena (not technically an OC, but just roll with it), and Saera all span generations of the Dekarios clan epic and all of them are fully realized, none fall into “woman shoved into traditionally male role” and all of them are rendered in all the roles women navigate, wife, mother, unwitting hero, step mother, ex girlfriend…and all the stories are equal parts solid lore, romantic fun, and occasionally straight up telenovella mellow drama! Always fun. Always hilarious!
Her current fic, dedicated to Morena is a banger. Start there. You won’t regret it!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
@missfortunetherogue
Okay, so this one is me telling on myself. I was prepared to roll me eyes reading their stories, the trope pile here is really high!
But damned if the writing isn’t masterful! Sasha, Miss Fortune, is wonderfully complex, trauma informed but not trauma defined. Their gender is perfectly integrated into their story without it being telegraphed at every moment. It is beautiful, layered, sophisticated story telling and my favorite Astarion romance. The intimacy is earned. They are both wonderful and awful to each other. The relationship stutters and gasps for air sometimes and then the romatic payoff slaps you right in the face.
I’m quite fond of their Regency story, but everything is pretty dope. A lot of their pieces I couldn’t find AO3 links, so here’s their Master list post!
💬 5 🔁 0 ❤️ 14 · About me · Welcome to my space
Hey folx and welcome! This blog is currently dedicated primarily to Baldur's Gate 3 conten
Okay that’s a good week one. Reply if I missed your favorite for next week or reblog with your own favorite things. Everyone could use a little virtual smooch!
Rules: Shuffle your 'on repeat' playlist and post the first ten tracks, then tag people.
Thank you for the tags, @andromedaancunin @bladesingerlily @ginateeth! Enjoyed getting a taste of your playlists 🤘
Gentlest of tags for @endermal @cinder-rellish181 @optimisticgrey @chaushaus @elceewunjo @spillingteanotpermitted @litsenn @theya-art @unovafarm @et-augury @cursed-nyxan @scoldingdarjeeling @archduchessgortash @gortashsrighthand and @thepalelawyer if you'd like to jump in. If you did it already feel free to tag me in the comments if you want! Always looking for new tunes.
This was just the first 10 from my liked list because otherwise you'd just get 10 Sleep Token songs 😆
1) Latum Alterum (Ya Ya Ya) - Steam Powered Giraffe
2) You Matter to Me - Sara Bareilles, Jason Mraz (From The Waitress)
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Thank you sm @bhaal-battle-beer-bard for tagging me, I had a lot of fun with it.
tag game: Create a VP of your Tav as the main character or your fave character from your favourite TV SERIES — within the limits of photo mode, of course. Make a whole entourage of the cast if you like.Tag your friends, have fun, tag me as the OG creator, and link to the original post here!
Well, the more I was thinking about it, the more I realised how my fav characters influenced me for Ellith, who happens to be a mix between three series characters that you wouldn't imagine cohabitating (or maybe you can, idk.)
(Of course there are also other influences, but those three ones are quite obvious now that I think about it).
I mean, you tell me, but I believe Ellith is a combination of those three.
CW: substance abuse, alcohol.
Ellith as Bojack (Bojack Horseman)
Vain, arrogant, cynical, a creeping alcoholic difficult to love, in complete denial and with a succession of terrible life choices?
YES.
Also, a selfish bastard who tries to hide their existential dread through substance abuse and meaningless sex and parties?
Double yes.
Bonus: Daddy issues.
Ellith as Samantha Jones (Sex & the City)
Do I really need to explain it?
Sam Jones was such an inspiration when I was growing up and she's still glorious af and freaking powerful. I love that energy and I think it appears in El (or so I hope).
Ellith as Crowley (Good Omens)
It's not just the hair and the eyes or the gait; it's also the cynicism, the recklessness, the mischievous bastard who's kind of a good guy underneath it all.
Also, they both complain a lot and are quick to anger. And they're both pretty cool and stylish. If Ellith was a devil, they'd be a Crowley.
[PS: Fuck Neil Gaiman]
And that's it! I hope it makes sense and that you could recognise El in those characters ahaha, even if, I reckon, it's quite a weird cocktail 😅
It was fun though, and quite enlightening in terms of unconscious inspirations 🤭
Thank you @cursed-nyxan and @optimisticgrey for the WIP tags 🖤
Still working on this... it's getting hotter in this forge, isn't it? 🔥😏
“Shouldn’t you be on your way to deliver my message to Moonrise, True Soul?”
“Shouldn’t you be cleaning that mess and follow that trail to the temple, as the general’s orders commanded?”
Nere was lounging on a few cushions, drinking an old vintage. There was no Duergar in sight.
“Hm. You have some guts for a new recruit of the Absolute.” He smirked, and there was something utterly dangerous in the way he was scrutinizing the bard. “I can appreciate that trait, if it’s well- targeted.”
“And I would appreciate a drink, if that’s all the same to you.” Ellith smirked back, stepping closer and watching him expectantly.
The drow snapped his fingers but stopped mid-motion. “Ah, yes… no more slave to serve me.”
“They’ll be more useful out of this tomb.”
Without waiting for Nere’s invitation, the bard picked up a glass and poured themself some wine. The drow’s eyes followed their every movements.
“I would hope so. I cannot allow any more disappointment.”
Ellith scanned the man, tall for a drow: He was clean now, dirt and ashes gone from his dark skin, and he had discarded his cultist robe and cloak to replace it with a loose shirt. His stance was that of authority and pride, and there was, in the way he held his chin high, an undeniable desire to prove himself in control of the place.
Something called in the bard’s guts, the urge to break him, to step on his pride and rob him of his so-called authority. They wanted him whimpering and powerless under their thumb… between their thighs.
Had they already done such a thing before, breaking a man of authority and relishing in his pathetic moans?
Why did it feel like that was their favourite thing to do to such men, those who thought themselves above them.
A delicious shiver of anticipation ran up their spine.
“Where is Sergeant Thrinn?” Ellith asked, scanning the surroundings. “I haven’t met her on my way here.”
“Hm?” Nere arched an eyebrow. “Two other duergar corpses were found by the elevator. Poisoned. I suppose one of those ridiculous gnomes is behind it. Thrinn is taking care of it.”
Ellith repressed a chuckle. The Drow didn’t need to suspect who had actually poisoned those drunkards.
“Good for her.” The bard nodded.
“I’ve heard you retrieved her boots, half-blood.”
His scornful label barely hit the bard, and with a smile, they sat down next to him, waiting not for an invitation.
The Drow gauged them but said nothing. His eyes lingered on their naked legs, as expected.
“I had no use for dirty boots… and they were too small for me anyway”.
The careless statement reached its target: Nere chuckled, and peeked at the bard’s feet, tucked in high stockings.
“And just so you know, Nere, I’m not taking mine off.” They smirked, rubbing their knees together in the most lascivious way.
