Mustachiest
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The sound of death cascaded through the room like the beginning of a concerto.
It was a sweet melody; reminiscent of Vivaldi’s Four seasons her death was everything that was art. It was beautiful, in a way that made him stretch his pale chapped lips into a small smile as she will finally be was she had always desired but never could to be.
Absolute perfection.
She performed a dance she never could while she was alive, her hands delicate and petite, were bent in a graceful manner and her toes, barely touching the filthy ground, parallel in a whimsical way that made ballet dancers seem like faeries descending upon the mortal realm to bathe in the power of Gaia.
He would like to bask in the beauty of her for a little longer, to soak up the glory of the tableau he has presented to the world but can never claim. It was the story of possession, of greed, and of consuming anger that made everyone who had looked wretch at the sheer agony that was embedded in the very fiber that made this piece up.
Exquisite.
But alas, a man like him lacks the time to loiter, he forces himself to leave his artwork hanging upon the Vine wood.
He wonders what his beloved will think about this.
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A story about a boy obsessed with Niccolo Machiavelli and a boy who teaches him to care.
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- Part 1 of Ask Box Prompts
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Tom Riddle has 7 lives to stop the madness that is Hadrian Peverell.
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Beautiful people are revered, put on a pedestal untouchable to those who do not bear the same visage. They are the old gods and goddesses taken mortal form, their divinity eminent in their exquisite beauty and grace-worshipped by those mortals whom fail to compare.
And for those who fail the standards? It is simply a fortunate enough thing for beauty to be a flame fickle enough to be imitated by those who do not possess the same warmth.
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A story about a misanthropic genius, a disfigured puppeteer and a (figurative) angel with green eyes. -
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They met under a holly tree.
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After days of being left on read, The Dark Urge pays a visit to the Iron Throne to see what was so important that Gortash left him unattended.
“Have you changed your mind and decided to end our plan prematurely?”
Durge looked up at him, intrigued. “Why do you ask?”
“You're being awfully nice to me today.” Gortash shrugged with a crooked smile. “Too nice. Like I'm a dog that's getting its last treat before it gets put down.”
Bookmarked by Mustachiest
20 Aug 2026
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From across the room, he could feel her gaze follow the motion of his head. Vera's purple eyes lingered on the line of his throat, tracing the shifting muscles beneath his skin. From any other beautiful woman, the attention might have been flattering. As it was, Gortash was merely made conscious of the locations of his various arteries.
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Set in an alternate timeline where Astarion has a run-in with the dark urge years before the events of BG3, while she and Gortash are still planning the big heist of the crown from Mefistopheles' vaults.
Bookmarked by Mustachiest
19 Aug 2026
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“Perhaps you are meant to be a Bhaalist.” Dreormor suggested wistfully. “Why else would Father send me after you and not wish you dead?” A curious notion, and Enver grasped at it eagerly.
A little smirk pulled at his lips and he swayed forward towards the man with a tilt of his chin, a newfound confidence masked over his features. “Or perhaps that is what you wish of me?” Enver teased, reaching out to hook a finger into the man’s pocket with a little tug.
“I won’t lie.” The Bhaalspawn considered him intently as he noted the elongation of his neck and how easy it would fit into his clutched hand. “Having your wits for myself would be most convenient.” His hand lifted of its own accord, and in blind effort to correct it he found his fingers tracing along the outline of Enver’s jaw.
“Then have them.” Enver breathed out, softly pulling the hand away to grip into his own.
Over a decade before the Absolute Crisis, Enver is but an upstart illegal arms dealer, having just begun his Banite following. He comes into possession of a mysterious ring that he suspects belongs to the infamous cult of Bhaal. All the while, someone is stalking him in broad daylight.
Bookmarked by Mustachiest
16 Aug 2026
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Very self indulgent shortish fic where Gortash has to deal with the fact that his favourite bhaalspawn may have developed some unwelcome emotions after coming back from the whole tadpole and amnesia incident
Bookmarked by Mustachiest
30 Jul 2026
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Oh, but she could hate Gale Dekarios above everything.
Even if the world started to burn and everything she loved fell to ash, she thinks she could hate him most of all.
Even then.-
Audie grew up hating Gale Dekarios with every fiber of her being. But standing before him now after twenty years, abandoned by Mystra and at the mercy of a mysterious power inside of his chest, she really doesn't feel like he's the same person at all.
Series
- Part 2 of Baldur's Gate 3: Tav Collection
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Bookmarked by Mustachiest
28 Jul 2026