You Have A Disgusting "true Love" Fetish

Why are you lgbtq+? wrong answers only GO

consider lezzing out when the moment arrives

🥺😭

Fanfiction on ao3? Big yes. Original works and poetry on ao3? Even bigger yes! Diabolical things in the anonymous collection? Maniacal yes!

I painted Karlach first so it's only natural that I paint her idol and our amazing adoptive camp mom, Jaheria, next!

notes and thoughts on the Nine-Fingers Keene tag dive

First, the unpretty Sheets chart:

For a deeper explanation of how I break down the roles, you can see this post here; and here is a comparison of NF's tag accuracy (percentage of main + side works) vs the rest I've done:

Raphael: 75% | Nocturne: 71% | Nine-Fingers Keene: 62% | Aylin/Isobel: 56% | Minthara: 54% | Alfira: 44% | Jaheira: 36% | Araj: ~27%

Please note that at this point, Minthara's is ~9 months out of date, the rest between then and now. Take these as a general baseline versus a hard truth.

Similarly to Nocturne, Act 3 easy-ish-to-miss Nine-Fingers Keene steps neatly out of the broader fandom spotlight and into the hands of people who actually like her.

Actually - I believe a lot of people genuinely like the women of BG3. But I also believe people do not care about them, which becomes really obvious with the amount of reverse-thought-criming in some characters' tags (Jaheiraaaa). AO3 users writing about Astele Keene, especially in her more recent works, like her and they care about her.

The minor role tags were in large part due to: a character, usually Tav, has a connection to the seedy underbelly of the city, and they need to call in a favor from NF. They will meet with her and/or discuss her and/or think about her for a few paragraphs.

Nine-Fingers' main ship was, predictably, with Jaheira. Her second largest fic-status was no tagged ship at all. The other ship-fics were individual one-shots with various characters (no repeat ships).

Regardless of relationship status, she's a girl's girl for sure:

This is subdivided, so works tagged both 'gen' and 'f/f' for example are counted as one of each; 76% of her works are not only ff, 76% of her works include the ff category.

And if we change this to only include works that actively ship Nine-Fingers:

Something else interesting is that Nine-Finger's tag is small enough that I could screenshot the entirety of my Roles column:

(rotated so it's oldest -> newest by post date. main, side, minor, mistag)

We can see her early tags were all side, background, a few mistags; the most recent works being on the other end of the spectrum, almost entirely fics truly about Nine-Fingers; and a pretty smooth gradient in the middle.

I am not going to lie, at first I was like yay looks like people are finally learning to tag :-) but, what this more likely indicates is just the fading popularity of a two-year-old game -- especially with newer shinier fandoms pulling audience from the bg3 pool. Users posting more recent BG3 fanfic are primarily those still standing in the now-settled dust, writing about favorite characters/settings/lore, with a drop in the general kind of 'this is my Tav's epic love story from beginning to end (with every NPC mentioned tagged as well)!' written and posted on a new-fandom high. I imagine that brand of enthusiastic-cum-careless writers are probably posting the same but with Rook now? Sympathy to my Veilguard mutuals.

Like I mentioned above, it's been almost a year since I posted my first Minthara infographic. It will be interesting to go back this summer and see what's changed for her as well, and if the above holds up for an unavoidable Act 1 character like her versus a more missable, late-game char like Nine-Fingers.

Pregnant forever!

i bet minthara's strap game is out of this plane

Pipe Smoke

It was the pipe smoke that roused her from a deep slumber. After the rush of soft hands and velvet lips, gentle gasps and shaking hips. After words said at least five years overdue, perhaps even longer. It was after the simple rustling of leaves had turned into a tempest of sweat and flame and arching release. It was the pipe smoke that roused her.

The night had been slow and sweet; reverent even. Holy. Both of them taking turns being cleric and goddess, intent on heavenly worship of the other. It was the type of delicate lovemaking she had gotten used to once upon a time, and not something she thought she’d ever feel again. Warmth and life crept back into her tired bones, stirring them to shiver and hum, stirring her chest to rise and fall, breaths coming in rapid successive gasps twice, no, thrice, in one night.

It had felt like home.

And maybe that’s why she said it, mumbled it under her still ragged breath whilst halfway dreaming. “Smoke in the study, Khalid.”

The smell of an old long leaf, a tobacco antique even to her, lingered, then lazily mellowed into nothingness. Her breathing settled back into an even rhythm when no new smoke flooded her dreams. Suddenly, she was being gently pulled by a strong, yet wiry arm. She twisted her body against warm, pink flesh, her cheek finding a new place to rest atop a soft, broad shoulder. The smell and feel was so similar and so, so safe. She curled into it, smiling. A soft sigh escaped her lips in response to a whispered comment she couldn’t quite hear.

— —

That experience was… different. Not at all what she was used to. Her line of work didn’t leave room for softness, kindness, gentle touches, or fluttering kisses in the aftermath of a storm. She was used to the feeling of her dark-haired kingpin’s sharp dagger trailing down her spine after a victorious coup, or a quick nightcap with a golden-haired lady after a stressful day of negotiations - her court wasn’t there just for fucking protection, after all.

And she was used to being in control.

Every order obeyed, every enemy quaking in fear of her vicious wrath, every kingpin and guild member falling neatly in line lest they meet an undesirable fate either at her own hand or upon her command. She wasn’t used to subservience. Or giving into temptation. Or whispering sweet lover’s words in the heat of passion - she wasn’t sure she was used to passion. But she was used to being the one calling the shots.

So when her - lover? Ally? Frenemy? Mumbled about smoking in the study, she scoffed. An eyebrow raised slowly at being called the name of a dead husband. Either she’d done a good job, or the old crone was finally losing her fucking mind. She scoffed, yet she found herself sitting down her tinderbox, letting the tobacco she had just lit die out, then working her fingers to empty out the bowl even though she was in her own fucking office.

She thought about a quip. A wry comment lay on the tip of her tongue and she opened her mouth to say it. Then she shut it. Instead of flinging a well crafted and very witty insult, she rose from her chair, shed the oversized tunic she had thrown on, and slid back into her bed. Her strong arm pulled the other woman on top of her, waking her just enough so she could twist to rest her head upon her new pillow’s broad shoulder.

“You’re lucky you’re only half a Harper, grandmother,” she whispered into a mess of gray hair.

The only response she received was in the form of a soft sigh.

happy bg3 final patch day to those who celebrate

reblog if you have skilled writer friends and you're damn proud of them