Favorite Part Of Bg3 Is When Dark Urge Lines Trigger At Absolutely Ridiculous Times. Me Going To Help

Favorite part of bg3 is when Dark Urge lines trigger at absolutely ridiculous times. Me going to help Gale up and my Durge yelling "IM COMiNG foR YoU" in the most threatening way possible that probably made Gale think that he wasn't going to be helped but rather made a skin suit of. My Durge yelling "KILL KILL KILL" before slipping on a grease puddle and eating shit and proceeding to lay there while Lae'zel ends the fight

silly

With Stars to Fill My Dream (9) - Darkness Helps Us All to Shine

Hi everyone!! Chapter 9 is here! ❤❤

Please forgive me for the lack of Karlach screenshots, I thought I'd have gotten them by now but life has been a little crazy so I haven't been able to fix up my game and mods since Patch 7 released. 💗

Please enjoy and let me know your thoughts!

Summary: A street-smart, musically inclined human girl with a tragic past gets abducted by a nautiloid after her painfully average shift at a retro singing diner. What's worse- putting your all into Olivia Newton-John and Travolta for lousy tips, or getting your guts ripped out by a gnoll? Or worse- getting turned into a hideous humanoid squid? Ofelia Montez will have to see if she can survive long enough to find out.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Mentions of past abuse and trauma. Canon-typical violence and gore.

Word Count: 7,352

Opening under the cut!

Ofelia stares into the flames as she warms her hands, listening to her companions getting ready and packing up for the day before they start to filter out.

She hadn’t slept a wink. She’d been torturing herself over and over with the thought that if she did, she’d find them all standing around her, demanding she leave when she woke up. The idea of going out alone in this world had been enough to wire her nerves and keep her alert, even when the rest of the clearing was as silent as death.

Ofelia pokes at the logs in the fire, watching Wyll cross the camp towards her. She regards him warily, concerned at his intentional approach.

“Morning,” He smiles, sitting beside her. He gives her some room, tension hovering in the air between them. He doesn’t look angry, or distrustful. With his face so open, she almost feels more terrified. Many meetings with case workers had prepared her for the sickly sweet words and body language that preceded her removal from a foster home. Usually through deliberate fault of her own, so she can’t really complain.

“Hi.” She mutters, setting the stick she’d been holding down on a stone to dangle over the flames. Her voice is defensive, measured. It’s been a while since she’s had to use this inflection.

The chill still clings to her and she shrugs the spare blanket up over her shoulders, watching Wyll tap his knee before snapping and searching his pockets. He pulls a small brown package out and unwraps the cloth, revealing a wedge of cheese within. He motions to it, indicating that he’d like to share, and she nods, watching him pull his knife out to cut a piece off and hold it out to her. She takes it carefully, not one to pass on cheese, even if it’s a bit of a placating gift before he brings the hammer down. Once she places the pad of it on her tongue, she hums in approval- it reminds her of sharp cheddar and with a small sting to her eyes she nibbles on the rest.

I don’t typically share my art here, but this was a practice portrait I drew of Astarion in September 2023. First one in 15-17 years! I should do another one of him soon because he has such wonderful features.

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Sunday Snippet!

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I just posted chapter 9, but I feel like a little teeny bit more is due since Astarion and Ofelia left off on bad terms for this most recent chapter.

Please enjoy these 2 idiots not understanding how friendships work.

“You can be a bit overwhelming with this whole caring act, you know.” His voice is tired yet still posh and she scoffs.

“It’s not an act, Astarion. I actually give a fuck, believe it or not.” She’s sure to place some humor beneath the words, trying to be the least bit abrasive as possible. He’s like a wounded animal when he isn’t nibbling at her neck, which makes her wonder if that still means he’s like an animal anyway… “Do you not want to talk about it?” She prods a little harder, tucking the lute onto her back. With the sun fully set the air begins to cool, and Ofelia sighs as a breeze drifts by, relishing in the temperature change at last.

“Fine, darling.” He concedes, his pout almost cute. “Drinking from thinking creatures comes with strings I hadn’t anticipated. Is that what you’d like to hear?” Her curiosity is definitely piqued.

“What kind of strings?” He stares at her, not answering, his eyes strange and what she can only describe as contemplative.

“When I was turned by Cazador, I started to lose everything from when I was alive.” He crowds a bit into her space as he weaves the mental image, his tone imposing and melancholy. “I can’t remember anything except the days leading up to it. I barely even remember my name.” There’s hurt in his voice, but he still seems so guarded that it’s hard to tell if he’s opening the door or holding it closed. “Until you.”

Tagging all you amazing people 🩷❤️

@preciouslittlebhaalbae @ladyduellist @elinorbard @justabiteofspite @roguishcat @allymcfee @inkymoonbunny