I Get To Visit Home In Two Weeks And It Cannot Come Fast Enough.

BG3 Companions as Weird Old Newspaper Clippings (courtesy of yesterdaysprint)

Wyll:

Karlach:

Gale:

Halsin:

Lae'zel:

Shadowheart:

Astarion:

Jaheira:

Minsc:

Minthara:

My beloved: “Ooh, you’ve got a new wrinkle I hadn’t noticed before!”

Me:

Suicide of Lucretia

— by Meester met de Papegaai

hope everyone has fun tomorrow!

"Did You Miss Me?"

It was one month since the battle of Baldur's Gate, one month since everything. Kethric Thorm lay dead at last, Orin and Gortash were defeated and the crown of karsus lay lost in the Chionthar.

Jaheira still wasn't used to it, being back in the city after so long away. Even before the battle, she'd been camping out in The Elfsong with that merry band of adventurers. She'd grown accustomed to their noise despite not being with them for long. That warm feeling of being part of an adventuring party once more. They were all gone now, back to whatever lives they'd lived before the nautiloid or carving out new ones: Gale back in Waterdeep, Shadowheart searching for a home with her parents and Lae’zel, Astarion doing some sort of vigilante work within the city (she'd met up with him a few times) and Minthara, Wyll and Karlach back in Avernus. Jaheira almost wasn't used to the silence. Maybe that's why she found herself in the Lower City sewers, checking in on an old friend far more often than she had in the past. Sure, Jaheira may have retired from the Harpers so the inner workings of the Guild were hardly any of her concern anymore. But, well, Minsc and Nine-Fingers were working together now (sort of?). She may as well be checking in every so often to make sure they hadn't killed each other.

Jaheira glances over at Astele. They're sat across from each other, Astele behind her desk wading through important looking paperwork and Jaheira on a little stool in front of it. They'd been sitting together like this in silence for what felt like an hour. Comfortable silence. Jaheira had bought a book with her to read (some novel she'd started before leaving for the shadow cursed lands, she hadn't gotten the chance to go back to it until now) just listening to the scratching of pen on paper and Astele's gentle humming.

“Did you miss me?”

Nine-Fingers barks with laughter, not even bothering to look up, “You seriously think I've had the time?”

Jaheira just hums in response. It made sense; between dealing with the Steel Watch, Bhaal's assassins, the Stonelord and a failed coup by the Zhents it was unlikely Nine-Fingers had even had time to think of herself. Let alone her enemy? Ally? Sort-of-friend-maybe-more? Jaheira still wasn't exactly sure what their relationship was at this point.

“Besides,” Astele finally looks up, meeting her gaze, “I knew you'd come back.”

“Ah, your offering to Kelemvor would imply otherwise. “

“Somehow I'm sure not even death could keep you away.”

When ur mutuals w/ some cool ass people rb if u agree

Very normal bg3 activities...

Who I would like to be:

Minthara Baenre

Cunty

Crushes the spark from her enemies eyes for power and dominance

Believes men are dirt

Fucking gorgeous

Who I actually am:

Dame Aylin

Friend to all and absolutely worships my partner

Only mean when others are mean to me first

Believes everyone is equal under Selûne

Scarred and somehow always spotted with dirt

My Girl (Chapter 7 - Baldur's Gate 3 fanfiction)

Can I offer you a little bit of Shadowzel (+ baby) cuteness to brighten up your weekend?

Ship: Shadowzel

WC: 3,725

Warnings: None

You can read it under the cut or on AO3. Your comments and interactions always make my day! 🥰

A few months have gone by and she still hasn't chosen a name for her daughter, although the child has already been introduced to their group of friends. Everyone keeps referring to her as 'the baby' or 'the little one.' Karlach, who is ridiculously eager to babysit, jokingly calls her Lil'zel or Tadpole, which really irritates Lae'zel. And that's probably the reason why Astarion has started following suit; all she can hope for is that the nickname won't catch on. It's not the first time someone in Faerûn has compared her or her people to frogs and toads and, while she knows it's usually a humorous comment with no malice, she doesn't see the resemblance. Not to mention all the negative associations to the word 'tadpole'.

Shadowheart's parents, more practical, simply speak of 'their granddaughter.' Arnell has suggested a few elvish names and told them several times the story of how they chose Shadowheart's original one. He had a dream about a character from an old ballad named Jenevelle three days before Emmeline gave birth and considered it to be a divine sign. Unfortunately, Lae'zel has been sleep-deprived for tendays, so no way for the gods to inspire her like that.

Neither is it easy to think of anything when that tiny ball of flesh attached to her chest won't stop crying. She's been like this for hours without losing any intensity or getting tired. If she were a boy, she would name her Tropos, which roughly translates to 'thunder voice'. The sound drills into Lae'zel's ears and echoes inside her head, filling it completely. She's beginning to understand why the rest of the party used to protest so much about her sharpening her weapons at camp. Perhaps if she apologizes to all of them, even if years have gone by, the gods will stop punishing her.

The noise is so loud that it takes about three or four times until Lae'zel hears someone knocking on the door. Bouncing the baby in that carrier that has become an extension of her body, she rises from the couch to answer. It's Emmeline.

“Shadowheart has not arrived yet,” Lae'zel says, interrupting herself to click her tongue and make other sounds that are supposed to calm her daughter down. “The bakery must be busy today.”

“That's fine,” Emmeline replies. “I've cooked too much stew and came to bring you some.”

She points to the bowl in her hand. Lae'zel moves aside to let her in. Grateful though she is that her mother-in-law has been thinking of them, she wonders how they are supposed to eat all that food. Lately everyone who has dropped by their house has given them something edible, from Karlach's slightly blackened cookies to the basket of fruit from his orchard Halsin brought them all the way from Reithwin. They must have decided that they look famished.

No matter how much she shushes or pleads with her, the little girl won't shut up. It almost distracts her from the wave of shame in the pit of her stomach while she watches Emmeline try to find room for the bowl on the overpopulated counters. She has a lot of washing-up to catch up on, but the past three or four days – she's not sure what day it is anymore – have been rather hectic.

Luckily, Emmeline doesn't make any comments. No questions asked, she takes as many dishes as she can to the small water fountain in the patio and cleans them. A few minutes later, everything has been put away and the kitchen looks immaculate.

Meanwhile, the baby hasn't stopped shrieking.

“May I?” Emmeline asks, stretching out her arms to hold her.

Lae'zel is too desperate to hesitate. She lets Emmeline take her daughter and uses the moment to roll her shoulders and stretch her back, sore from carrying the child everywhere all day.

“I have tried everything,” Lae'zel tells her. “She does not need changing or cleaning. I have fed her, winded her, entertained her, sung to her, but she just goes on and on. And it is still too soon for her to develop teeth.”

Nodding sympathetically, Emmeline places the baby on the kitchen table. She studies her before removing one of her socks. A long brown hair, which definitely belongs to Lae'zel, is wrapped around one of those tiny toes. As soon as Emmeline gets rid of it, the infant finally calms down.

“How... how did you know?” Lae'zel blinks astonishedly.

“The same thing happened to Shadowheart once. I even took her to a healer, thinking she was ill. It was a different kind of crying from when she was tired or hungry.”

Lae'zel sighs. She feels so stupid. With all the time she spends with her daughter, she should already know how to recognize her needs. Gods, she even read something about how common hair loss is after giving birth and how often those loose hairs get caught in children's body parts. How could she forget? A hand pats her back tenderly.

“Hey, you're still learning,” Emmeline says softly. “Don't be so hard on yourself.”

She must be as transparent as the glass bottles she uses to store her milk. Looking on the bright side, the child is finally falling asleep, so she rushes to put her in her crib before she changes her mind. When she returns to the kitchen, the stew is bubbling on the fire.

“Thought you could use a meal,” Emmeline smiles as she tosses it with a wooden spoon.

As if replying in her name, Lae'zel's stomach grumbles. She hasn't eaten at all today, so she couldn't be more thankful when Emmeline hands her the bowl of warmed-up stew and sits with her while she nourishes herself.

“Poor thing, you look very tired,” she observes.

Lae'zel nods. She's indeed exhausted, but she shouldn't be. Yes, she hasn't been getting much sleep lately, but it's Shadowheart who gets up before the sun every morning to make bread and has kind words and touches for all the people she heals every afternoon. Every couple of days, Karlach comes over asking to borrow the baby for a few hours. She's trying to convince Minthara to adopt one of their own and hopes her brand new niece will help. Wyll and Jaheira have also babysat for them a bunch of times. Arnell and Emmeline check on them every single day; they've even adopted their two cats temporarily because they seemed to be jealous of the new addition to the family. Hells, even Aylin showed up recently, each of her twins in one arm, and took her for a walk so that the three little cousins could become acquainted. Lae'zel knows she should use those brief moments of truce to do the chores she's been neglecting, but there's so much to do she ends up getting overwhelmed and passing out halfway through them. She's still embarrassed about that one time she fell asleep in the bathtub when she was supposed to wash herself quickly and then repair the nursery window.

She should be way more efficient. Especially with all the help she's getting.

“I will be fine,” Lae'zel brushes it off. “Thank you for your help.”

“Happy to help, sweet girl.”

Not only is she an amazing grandmother and a loving mother to Shadowheart, but she also takes care of her. Lae'zel feels her eyes sting. How could she ever be half as good as Emmeline is?

“By the way, I'm making a new onesie for the baby,” Emmeline announces brightly. “It was almost done, but I decided to make it bigger so that it will last longer. They grow up so fast!”

True. When the egg hatched, she was no bigger than Lae'zel's two palms together. The green blanket could be wrapped around that minuscule body several times. Now she fills it rather nicely. A thin, dark layer of hair has covered her head. Her ears, which could have been mistaken for a half-elf's in the first few tendays, have grown considerably and developed a few indentations, much like Lae'zel's. And it's not just something physical. Every day, her child seems to be acquiring new skills. Her heart swells at the thought.

She's just finished her food – which feels as effective as a healing potion – when Shadowheart arrives home. As she takes off her jacket and hangs it by the door, Lae'zel can't help but notice how skinny her wife is getting. Her cheeks are sinking, and the dark rings under her eyes are not make-up. Even so, she smiles as she greet them both with hugs.

“I'm sorry we didn't save you any stew, baby,” Emmeline tells her. “We didn't know when you'd be here.”

“It's alright, Mama. We were running late, so I had a sausage roll at the bakery.” Shadowheart lets out a sigh. “Thank the gods I don't have any patients coming in today!”

That's good. Shadowheart has been working really hard lately; she has earned a quiet evening. Or as quiet as it can be. Hopefully, the little one will still nap for one or two hours.

“What are you going to do?” Emmeline wonders. “Anything enjoyable?”

“A bath!” Shadowheart exclaims. “My kingdom for a bath! I have flour everywhere, even in parts of my body I can't see. Then I'm subjected to the little princess's will.”

Lae'zel smiles. The affectionate nicknames Shadowheart gives their daughter are adorable. Emmeline looks between them both and stands up from her chair.

“In that case, I shall not distract you anymore. Those cats don't feed themselves. Have a nice evening, you two!”

No sooner has the door closed with a thud than Shadowheart gives Lae'zel a sweet peck on the lips. She appears to be in a good mood in spite of the long day at work.

“Need anything from me?” she wants to know. “If you don't, I'll go bathe right now before the star of the house awakes.”

Fortunately for them, they do get that well-deserved hour to rest and look after themselves. When the child starts calling, Lae'zel is relieved to know that she simply needs to be fed. Shadowheart comes downstairs while they're in the middle of it, a towel holding her dripping silver hair. There's a pensive expression on her face; Lae'zel believes she detects a hint of melancholy in it. Yet before she can question her about it, someone knocks at the door again.

“I'll get that,” Shadowheart says.

This time, it's Arnell standing on the other side.

“Hello! Mama tells me you're not working this evening, so I'm here to pick up my granddaughter.”

“She is eating,” Lae'zel replies, in case her bare breasts and the hatchling in her arms weren't clear enough signs.

“No hurry, of course!” Arnell holds up his palms. “I can come back in a few, or you can bring her over when she's ready. Just thought you both could use a break, from what Mama has told me.”

Lae'zel blushes. She must have looked terribly haggard if Emmeline feels that lending them a hand is so urgent. Her gaze meets Shadowheart's, who gives her an eager nod before responding.

“That'd be lovely!”

Although she trusts Shadowheart's parents almost as much as herself or Shadowheart, Lae'zel feels the sting of guilt as she hands the baby, fed and winded, to Arnell. She could use a rest, that's for sure, and some time alone with Shadowheart. Or rather, Shadowheart deserves some attention after how busy she's been since their daughter was born. The way she all but throws herself into Lae'zel's arms the second they're on their own says everything.

“An evening off and my beautiful wife all to myself! What more could I ask for?” Shadowheart sighs happily, resting her head on Lae'zel's lap.

“I am happy to be here with you too, my joy. What would you like to do?”

Secretly, she hopes whatever Shadowheart has in mind is not too mentally or physically demanding. Breastfeeding always leaves her feeling sleepy. Yet she will not show such weakness. She owes it to Shadowheart. Pressing her lips tightly together, she conceals a yawn and looks down at her wife, waiting for her decision.

“I... don't know,” Shadowheart thinks aloud. “Go for a walk, maybe? We still have a couple of hours of sunlight left.”

“It will have to be a short one. We should not stray too far from this area in case your parents or the baby need us.”

“You worry too much! The other day you wouldn't let Wyll take her home because you were afraid Astarion would eat her.”

“Feed on her, not eat her. He is still a vampire, is he not?”

“He wouldn't do that to us, and you know it.”

This time it is Shadowheart's turn to yawn. She squeezes her eyes shut with a barely perceptible wince.

“Are you alright?” Lae'zel asks.

“Yes. Just a headache. A tiny one.”

“My poor joy!”

Leaning forward, Lae'zel places her hands on both of Shadowheart's temples and presses gently with her fingertips. Her thumbs rub circles in the center of Shadowheart's forehead. The half-elf releases a hum.

“Feels nice. But you don't have to do this. It's not so bad, really.”

“Ssssh,” Lae'zel whispers. “You work so hard for us. It is time someone thanked you.”

“You seriously don't have to-”

Her words are interrupted by another yawn. She shifts a little, making herself more comfortable. Lae'zel's hands move to her scalp and massage between strands of silver hair. The cute moan she receives in return makes it absolutely worth it.

“If you go on like this,” Shadowheart says, “I'll fall asleep. And we'll never go on that walk.”

“Then we will go for a stroll another time, my joy. Just relax.”

It seems to be working. At least that's what the smile on Shadowheart's lips tells her. She covers them with her palm to hide yet another yawn. This time, Lae'zel can't help but replicate it.

“You're tired, too,” Shadowheart remarks, cracking one eye open. “I should be the one giving you a massage. Your shoulders must be sore after carrying her all day.”

“I am fine. Do not worry about me.”

“It's not fair, you know?”

Lae'zel can feel her eyelids growing heavy as well. Having Shadowheart there, completely frozen except for the slow rising and falling of her chest, is incredibly relaxing. She makes her think of their cats, how they'd remain motionless like statues while being petted.

It's only hours later, when Arnell's knocks on the door awake them, that they realize they've fallen asleep together on that couch.