#astarion has been the only thing in my mind these past months | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lizzychanstuffss · 1 year ago

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Hey! I got a prompt for you: let's say that the reader comes from a place where courting braids are a thing. Their people usually has long hair and it's tradition that someone would braid their SO's hair. Reader is hesitant to bring it up since their former partners never did it because they found it silly or too time consuming. I think Astarion would love the idea of braiding reader's hair and would probably go overboard and come up with complex braids or add decorations into the braid (feathers, beads, jewelry and all that jazz). Baby boy wants to express his creativity and is happy that you trust him with something so important to you 🥺

And if the braid comes undone, oh no what a tragedy, he's just gonna have to do it again! 😉

If it's too silly or too much of a hassle, feel free to say no tho. I just thought it would be so freaking cute ☺️

This so cute omg I need to write this.

Astarion x Tav!reader GN

set post-game so spoilers

Requests still open!

Finally, after all the adventures of mind flayers and tadpoles, you were happy to finally settle down with your lover. Astarion was happy with the predicament too, even if you also wanted to find a way for him to walk in the sun again...but he suggested you should take a break first, or else your body might start falling apart.

So you took his advice and the two of you had been taking things slow for the past few months. You two had the rest of forever to find a way for him to be in the sun again, there wasn't a real rush. So with that in mind you finally started wearing your hair down more often, it was already rather long but the length really showed now that it wasn't tied up or braided to keep it out of your face.

But there was one thing you couldn't stop thinking about. It was something that was prominent in the area you grew up in and was something you hoped you would be able to continue with whoever you ended up in a relationship with. But considering your relationship with Astarion was forged in the midst of chaos it was never really the time to bring it up to the vampire.

But tonight the man saw you looking over a book. It had instructions for several different styles of braids but all of them were too complex for you to do yourself. You hadn't even noticed that Astarion had been behind you until he placed his hands on your shoulders giving you a peck on the cheek. His eyes glanced over the page and it instantly caught his attention.

"My, my what's this?" His knuckle stroked the page inquisitively. Looking up at him you smiled.

"Ah just some braids, where I'm from there was something called a courting braids..." You trailed off a bit slightly embarrassed at the thought of it. Astarion gave your shoulder a slight squeeze urging you to continue.

"Uhm well, when two people are courting one of them will braid the other's hair...it's a bit silly saying it out loud" You look away from him as you speak only to have him gently move your chin to face him, a frown formed on his face as he spoke.

"Darling, it's not silly if it's something you care about...and frankly it sounds rather fun" He paused. "Would you like me to try one of them?"

"Well, if you want to?" You smile up at him and suddenly Astarion seems so excited. The two of you get into a more comfortable position so he could properly do your hair. He gets to work looking at the guide for the braid and twisting your hair gently into the shape on the page. Once he's finished Astarion marvels at his work quite satisfied with himself.

"Oh my I do say you look rather dashing in this style" He chuckles before grabbing two hand mirrors handing you one and he holds the other to get a good look at the intricate braid. His handiwork is honestly remarkable, must have been from his skills in embroidery transferring over to another.

"You did a wonderful job Astarion~" You smiled as you looked at it. Turning to face Astarion, he was still rather excited by this new found talent he had discovered and it gave you an idea. "How about you do another more complex one?" Suggesting to him and his eyes seemed to light up at the prospect.

"Are you sure?" His eyes were filled with a sense of light at the prospect but he couldn't help but ask if it was really alright. He was still cautious about such things but you couldn't blame him, it’s not like though healing from trauma was a one fix all. Of course you give him an enthusiastic nod.

Then the man sets off to work trying another braid from the book, something much harder to replicate for certain. As you sit there his hands playing with your hair is a rather soothing experience, it takes a while but eventually he finishes this one. It's slightly rougher as he is still getting used to the process, but it demonstrates such skill and talent regardless.

Over the next weeks, Astarion continues to braid your hair. Sometimes he puts in flowers or ribbons or whatever other decorations he thinks would look nice against the color. Today he chose a more simplistic braid instead of his normally complex art pieces. But as you went about your day the braid ended up coming undone.

You were a little distraught as all his hard work became undone. Upon seeing this Astarion wasn't upset at all in fact.

"Oh dear~ such a shame I have to braid it all again" His voice was dripping with sarcasm and sass. Scoffing a bit in response to obvious tease, but then sitting in front of him.

"Alright, let me see what I can do" he smirks a bit letting the hair fall where it may and then getting started on something a bit more secure. As he works his magic looping the hair in on itself, adding a ribbon to help keep it in place.

Once he was finished he proudly showed off his work, a smile making its way across your lips as you take in his work. "You are quite skilled at this, love.” Turning to him you gave him a gentle kiss which he reciprocated in kind.

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion romance #astarion fanfic #bg3 spoilers #astarionfics #astarion x reader #my writing

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theelfsongbard · 1 year ago

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Counterweight

Pairing: spawn!Astarion x AFAB!reader

Summary: after the epilogue, you and Astarion share a summer’s afternoon together in the meadow. For @oharahive’s breeding kink challenge!

Warnings: epilogue spoilers, breeding kink, mentions of potential future pregnancy

Word Count: 2273

Image source: https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/760123243354175763/

These past 6 months have been the counterweight to 200 years of misery. Thank you.

He had said those words to you weeks ago, and from then, he had slowly been opening up more and more to you. More frank, more transparent with his feelings than ever before. Today, he is quiet again but you know his mind is anything but, still coming to terms with his grand adventure and the turn of fate that it has brought with it. All at once, he speaks up.

“You bring me the best happiness. You show me the way, where I cannot see and you give me love where I don’t always deserve it. I don’t know how you do it, but I will always be grateful for you.”

The summer breeze blows over the meadow, sifting over the long grass like a wave of verdant green. How lovely it is, to be here, to be loved. Astarion’s thoughts lazily drift as he rests his head in your lap, his eyes shut and sheltered from the sunlight by the wide canopy of an old oak. Slowly he breathes in, bringing cool air into lungs that no longer work. Things have changed drastically in the past 6 months, and now, despite his condition, he found himself flourishing and a free man.

Above him, your gentle humming stops though your hand in his hair continues to massage his scalp with just the right amount of pressure. “And I would give up anything to see you happy for all eternity without hesitation. Has last night’s party been on your mind, love? You’ve been introspective lately.”

“How can I help myself, darling? I can’t help but think about how things could’ve turned out so differently, and yet every iteration I think about, I cannot imagine myself being happier than I am now. You led me here and I… hate to think what life would be like without you being my guiding light. I’d be bitter, resentful, enslaved still by my own will or by Cazador. And I know that I was not always easy to love, but you stayed anyways when it would have been so easy to walk away.”

“You are worthy of love. I have chosen to love you because waking up to your smile every day and seeing you grow into who you are brings me joy. You are my home and my guide. The obstacles we faced together only strengthened our bond.”

Astarion cracks one vermillion eye open, a knowing smirk on his lips, “You like my smile? Why don’t you tell me more?” His voice deepens playfully as he drags you down to press some feather-light kisses on your mouth. This is his way of processing his feelings on complicated topics, as if he is afraid that wallowing in his thoughts any longer will eat him alive even though he has become less self-conscious about openly sharing his thoughts now.

You gasp in feigned scandalousness, “If I feed your ego too much, you might be too full of yourself for tonight’s dinner! I suppose you’ll just have to settle with knowing that you’re just lovely.” The way you giggle into his mouth sets something alight in him and he flips himself over, pinning you down into the grass below him, earning him a squeal of delighted surprise. This time, it’s your turn to lean up and capture his lips with her own, pulling a low rumbling chuckle from deep in his throat that vibrates through his chest and into hers where he presses against you. “Cheeky little thing aren't you?” the sound of his voice combined with the feeling of his arms caging you in makes your heart beat wildly in its ribcage. Nobody plays the game of seduction better than Astarion and the past 6 months together have only given him time to learn exactly what makes you tick.

“If you're worried about me being too full for dinner, I suppose I can always have dinner a little earlier, if you'll permit it. There's always room for dessert afterwards.” his lips graze tantalisingly over the exposed skin of your neck, his nose nuzzling the shell of your ear with care.

The ring of your laugh chimes like a bell on the wind, “Oh, just stop playing coy and come down for a bite then!”

You don’t need to ask twice before you feel his fangs probing for the blood beneath your skin before finally piercing into your neck, you grit your teeth and cling to his arms as he bears down. The feeling of pain never gets any better no matter how many times he feeds from you, but you have gotten used to the icy pricks and the ensuing numbness as he draws the blood from your body into his. It's his chest that warms first, followed by the healthy flush of life that fills his cheeks and… more intimate regions making itself known by the hardening desire pressed into your stomach.

Drunk on the fresh bouquet of your blood, Astarion laps his tongue against the puncture wounds at your neck, capturing the remnants of his dinner as it runs from the site. An appreciative moan pours from his throat, and when he pulls away at last, you can see that his eyes burn with fire and need. Feeding Astarion doesn’t always lead to sex, but the intimacy of the act makes it a very appealing activity for you both and today is one of those days.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about our future as well, what adventures it might hold for us both,” he kisses up your neck, tickling you and leaving you gasping for air as he teases. The only coherent word you can manage to utter is a shaky “yes?”.

“And I had the most interesting chat with Gale at the party.”

You frowned, wondering where on earth he was going with this. There was once a time when he and Gale weren’t on the best of terms with one another, not in the least because he was also competing for your affection when it was clearly already given to Astarion. Although time had mellowed out Astarion’s moodiness and dislike of the wizard, you couldn't help but think that perhaps it was jealousy that had stoked the fire of his appetite today.

“Oh? And what about him?” you squirmed about as his lips found your ear.

“It's nothing about him, but it is about us. You see, he was telling me about a guest lecturer he had at his school, a dhampir.”

Oh. Oh. So that was what was on his mind.

“Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?” The implication hung there, tantalising. The idea of children wasn’t a topic that you had broached with Astarion. In all honesty, you had both had your hands full with other things; adventuring, searching for a cure to vampirism, working to rebuild the Underdark for the many spawn that had been released from Cazador’s manse. But now that he had mentioned it, your mind couldn't help but be filled with images of Astarion lovingly gazing down at a small fragile bundle close to his chest, swathed in cloth. Astarion smiling as he held out a finger clutched by tiny hands. Astarion cooing and stroking its cheek as it drifted into a trance, protected from the cruelty of the world by his love. “Astarion.” A familiar tingle of heat fills you and concentrates itself at your core as the thoughts suffocate the forefront of your mind until nothing else surfaces.

“Think of them reaching for us, seeking the comfort of our loving embrace, filling our home with joy in the mornings.” he breathes in wantonly, inhaling your intoxicating scent. You are fertile, and the tang of your blood on his tongue and the scent of it lets him know that your body is ready at its peak to receive a child if you should choose to do so. “I’m ready for a child, if you are, my love.” he breathes it like a promise against your mouth, forehead pressed to yours waiting for your answer.

“Yes. I am ready.” you respond in kind, kissing him earnestly. “Give me your child.”

Astarion’s ministrations grow as much as his enthusiasm. From where he is hovering above you, he growls with a hint of possessiveness and primal joy. The fact that you were willing was a promise of security, of having you by his side in the years to come with the knowledge that you loved him so much that you would choose to create something that would immortalise your expression of love for each other in flesh and bone and flowing blood.

You were his of your own choosing and he was yours. Would always choose you and stand by your side. The thought drives him mad and admist the attention that he lavishes on your lips, a hand snakes down your body, freeing your tucked shirt and undressing you with uncanny dexterity and speed fueled by his need to have you as his partner and his mate. Immediately. To press you down and fill you to the bursting with his essence until his seed overflowed in your womb and blessed you both with child.

His hand is distracted by the curve of your breasts, kneading them gently as he begins to move down your body to lick and suckle on them. The moans pouring from you only serve to heighten his own arousal and fill him with satisfaction as he plays you with all the expertise of a bard with a well-acquainted instrument. When he finally relieves you of your pants, he lovingly dips a finger along your folds, making you buck your hips up, collecting the slick and rubbing it against your clit, revelling in the way you’re already wet with desire for him causing a shiver to run through your body. “Excited, darling?” he dares to tease out with that high giggle of his. The heat in your cheeks only grows as you huff, “you don’t say. Please, don’t stop now.” you're so desperate for his touch, to feel him inside you.

He chuckles, “Only because you’re so desperate -“. He licks a long stripe up through them, but despite pretending otherwise, the hold you have on him is too great and inhumanly quickly, he scrambles back up, his knee hooking up under yours to open you up and pulling himself free from his trousers as he aligns himself with your entrance, coating himself in you before pushing in until he’s fully sheathed in your warm heat. The unexpected stretch rips a stifled yelp of pleasure from you and Astarion can’t help but moan in kind. “Don’t hide, let me hear you.”

Waiting until you’ve adjusted to him, he lifts your knees up to his shoulders, folding you over so that he can bury himself deeper inside. The new position brings you closer to the edge as he thrusts with increasing vigour, losing himself in the need to fill you up completely, imagining his seed taking and the swell of your belly bearing the evidence of your passion for everyone to see. “I want to see you dripping with my seed, fucked full until there’s no room left for anything else.”

“Then do it!” you just about screamed as he reached between you to rub on your clit. “Give it to me,” you sobbed, “until there’s nothing left to give.” the added pressure sent you tumbling over the edge, and your vision blacked out momentarily as your mind tried to catch up with your body, still spasming and twitching around his cock, milking him of all he had as he met his release with a shuddering roar, driving himself even deeper than he had before as he spent himself inside you. He doesn't move to pull out, keeping himself and his spend inside you do as long as possible and the intention of the action makes you clench slightly around his softening cock drawing a hiss from Astarion. “You want to go again, love?”

Catching your breath, from the exertion you couldn't help but drag him down to lay beside you, holding him close as you rest your head on his arm, nuzzling close to his neck and inhaling his comforting scent. It spells safety and tenderness that you know is only reserved for you. “Not right now, Astarion. I'm exhausted, but maybe we do it again another day,” you say with a laugh, “after all, if it doesn’t work this time, we’ll just have to keep on trying.”

“Well,” he says with a lazy kiss, “I’m very on board with your idea.”

“This is nice. This is really nice,” you whisper to him. “I just want to lay here with you forever.”

His hand snakes over to rest on your waist, the reassuring weight grounding you and the gentle press of his lips to your hair making your heart flutter. “Then let’s stay, for a little while longer at least. Close your eyes, darling.” Without even being able to see it, you can hear the smile on Astarion’s lips as he says it. You can’t help but feel a swell of contentment and pride at these moments of softness where so much was said with so few words.

You don't know how long you lay there in the field with Astarion, holding each other as the sun sank below the horizon but the next time you’re pulled from your trance, it’s the stars that watch over you as you anticipate the hopeful possibility of what might come to fruition.

#astarion smut #astarion x f!tav #astarion x f!reader #astarion x female reader #astarion x female tav #AFAB reader

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m00nlight-ramblings · 1 year ago

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BG3 Companion Modern AU Headcanons

These random thoughts popped into my mind and I had to write them down. I love these little weirdos, and some of them probably don't make sense but OH WELL.

Should I do a Part 2 with more companions?? Let me know - my inbox and requests are open!

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Astarion

This dude's got iPad kid energy - he loves to scroll Tiktok for hours.

He gets bi-weekly pedicures. And not the basic kind - the full on 1.5 hour long with the massage and the mask and the exfoliation.

His favorite holiday is Halloween. He plans his costume starting in August.

He'd be the type of person to be walking through a mall, see a Claire's, and spontaneously decide to get his ears pierced idk.

Is really into metal. Like, you'll come home and Metallica will be blasting and you walk into the bedroom and he's folding laundry and just like, "Oh, HELLO, Darling!" but will have to scream it over the volume in which he's listening to music

Will truly take an hour picking out the perfect wine to pair with your dinner...he's definitely a wine snob.

The cheapest article of clothing Astarion owns is from Banana Republic and it's an undershirt...everything else is ~*very fancy*~

Loves watching all types of vampire movies/TV shows. He can often be heard saying, "Oh no, they got that all wrong" under his breath.

He definitely reads like 1-2 books a week. He's recently really gotten in spicy smut books (he definitely got recommendations from BookTok).

For sure falls asleep to ASMR videos.

Gale

This man loves HGTV *queue Home Depot commercial music*

Has the most absolutely beautiful, clean home you've ever seen with about 30 bookcases CRAMMED with books. The books are the only disorganized thing in his home because he constantly is reading them, so alphabetizing them is useless.

Pinterest is his most used phone app. His boards are carefully curated. That man has a recipe/inspiration pic/quote for EVERYTHING.

Definitely volunteers at the animal shelter once a month. Often times has to talk himself out of bringing a cat home.

LUSH is his favorite store at the mall. He loves them bath bombs.

He THROWS DOWN at holiday parties...Christmas? Thanksgiving? The table is SET. The decorations are UP. He's wearing an APRON because he's been cooking ALL day. The playlist is PERFECT.

Speaking of holidays, he has matching pajama sets for everyone in the household. For every. Holiday.

Fall is absolutely his favorite season. "Sweetheart...have you ever watched 'When Harry Met Sally'? Perfect autumn movie...also I bought a new scarf today to go with my new peacoat. And mittens. And a new hat...it's getting cold outside."

He definitely has a Live. Laugh. Love. adjacent sign somewhere in his home

He definitely needs glasses to read. And he for sure has those librarian chains so that he can just take them off and they hang, instead of losing them.

Karlach

Absolutely loves to eat meals watching Youtube videos.

Imagine her in Times Square? She tears the M&M's store UP.

Is obsessed with documentaries. She often says things like "I can't believe there's so much stuff to LEARN out there!"

Definitely has a Squishmallow collection. And she rotates which one she sleeps with every night so they all get a chance.

Is absolutely the worst cook of all time but tries really really hard...however, she can make a mean boxed mac n' cheese.

Has an obsession with sugary cereal. There's always Cinnamon Toast Crunch or Fruity Pebbles in her cabinets.

Certified Switie for SURE.

Is really into astrology. Definitely has said, "Oh, you're just saying that because you're a SCORPIO" or the like many, many times.

Absolute Starbucks addiction (venti iced caramel macchiato, extra caramel).

Has monthly "girl's nights" (but everyone is invited) at her place. The rules are: pajamas only, junk food, romcoms, and a playlist of the best pop songs in the past 20 years.

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How'd y'all like it...should I make a part two with other companions?! Remember my inbox is open and I'm accepting requests!! I'd love to write some stuff so send it in!

#balders gate 3 #bg3 gale #gale fanfic #gale headcanons #gale of waterdeep #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion fanfic #astarion headcanon #bg3 #karlach #karlach headcanon #karlach fanfic #karlach fan fiction #karlach bg3 #bg3 karlach #bg3 astarion

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tyrantisterror · 10 months ago

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You seem to have been enjoying Baldur's Gate III a lot. Would you mind giving your thoughts on the individual companions? I'm just curious to see what your take on them is.

Yeah sure! The game's been rotting my brain for months now in part because of its character writing, so I can stand to gush about the companions a bit.

Before we get to the companions individually, I want to talk about them as a group, because one of the things that makes this game so impressive to me is its commitment to its core themes, and that extends to how the companions were crafted as a group. See, each of the core six companions have the following things in common:

The mindflayer tadpole that threatens to turn them into a monster against their will (i.e. the thing that gets them all together on a quest)

A personal history of being abused and exploited by someone they trusted

A Want that comes as a result of their personal history of abuse that is self destructive but understandable given their circumstances

A Need that comes as a result of their personal history of abuse that they have written off or ignored because their past makes them think fulfilling it is impossible

A point in their character arc where they will come into conflict with the player character if the player character tries to advocate for their Need over their Want. If the player values the Want over the Need, the relationship will initially go smoother, but end badly.

The overall theme of Baldur's Gate 3 can be loosely summed up in one of its major recurring songs, I Want to Live, and that's ultimately what each character's arc is a variation of: the desperate desire to live in a world that has been trying to kill your mind, body, and soul to the best of its ability. Got it? Cool, we can talk about the characters now that we've got this established.

Oh, and, uh, this game covers some... HEAVY themes, given that abuse is one of the common denominators between the companions. I'm going to try to be gentle in talking about it, but this will cover some of that subject matter, so this is your warning if you want to avoid that.

Companion 1: Astarion, My Bisexual Awakening

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I'm going to start with the companion I feel is the most talked about/popular/overexposed I suppose, Astarion. I feel like anyone with even the vaguest knowledge of Baldur's Gate 3 probably recognizes Astarion at this point, even if it's just as "that annoying vampire twink I'm sick of seeing." There's already a growing "he's popular so he sucks" movement about Astarion here on tumblr and at the cesspool of hate known as Twitter, because of course there is, he's popular, ergo he must suck.

...

I think Astarion is one of the best written video game characters of all time.

There's this one great tumblr post that summarizes Astarion's role in the narrative really well, with the great punchline of "Astarion is kinda like if they sexualized gollum," which is not only funny but perfectly accurate. I can't really top that, so I'm just going to talk around some of its points a bit, but I highly recommend reading it yourself, it's more concise and well-thought out than whatever this ramble will be.

But, ok, so, "I Want to Live" is our theme, right? Astarion is dead. Dead to begin with, Marley style. He has been killed, at a young age, before his time. Sure, he was brought back to a sort of life, being a vampire and a member of the undead and all, but the life he knew is gone. All the pathos one can mine from being a vampire is played up here, for as Astarion himself notes, he's not even a full fledge vampire, but a vampire spawn - "All of the drawbacks, few of the perks." Worse, as a vampire spawn, he's magically bound to the will of the vampire that turned him - forced to live out his undead life as a slave to a sadistic monster that abused him in every way a person can be abused.

Which is why Astarion is the only companion who's entirely thankful for the mindflayers kidnapping him and implanting a tadpole in his head - because they broke that magic connection to his master, and gave him resistances to many of the stock vampire weaknesses to boot (hungry tadpole doesn't want its meat suit burning in the sun, after all). Astarion's life was so fucked that getting a brain-eating parasite was a unilateral improvement.

But while the magic connection is severed, the psychological affect of the abuse Astarion suffered lingers. His master made him use sex as a lure to bring victims to his lair, and so Astarion still believes that he has to offer people sex to "earn his keep" - that his body is a tool for others to use for their gratification, and if he refuses their desires he puts his life at peril. Astarion hates putting himself out to help other people not only because no one has done that for him during his long undead life, but because doing so puts his life at risk. Astarion is power hungry - his Want is to be as strong, no, stronger than his master, so that way he can never be afraid again. Astarion Wants to be a true vampire.

His need, however, is to find value in the life he has now. He needs people who love him for who he is, not what he can offer, and who will protect him the way he has needed protecting for hundreds of years. His need is to be shown that kindness isn't a weakness, that charity is possible, that power does not have to be gained through selfish and cruel means. You're shown this in the game's approval mechanic - while Astarion will disapprove of you putting yourself out on a limb for others and revealing sensitive information freely, he has a soft spot for whenever you help someone who, like him, is being exploited. Because while he'll protest otherwise, Astarion wants to believe kindness is possible, and that the horrible things he's suffered don't define him. Astarion may believe he's just a tool to serve others' desires, but that doesn't mean he doesn't wish to be more than that.

And I know the cynics among you are like "Oh, ok, so the cute vampire twink has a ludicrously tragic backstory. How is that original or good writing?" Because that's the thing, right? If there's an effeminate, brooding bad boy character that lots of teenage girls like in a piece of media, it HAS to be shallow wangst at its core. Every tumblr sexyman is just Edward Cullen when you cut past the bullshit, right?

Like, I know I'm not going to convince the "Thing popular so thing bad" crowd on Astarion's quality no matter how many words I write, but, like, there is a reason for the hype. Dude's got fucking layers! The different interactions with him you can have, the dimensions you can bring out of him by how you choose to engage with him, all paint this great tapestry of a character who takes the concept of a vampire and explores it to a depth few pieces of media have every plunged to.

And he's fucking funny! Dude's got some of the best lines in the game, and his voice actor didn't just give him a sexy sultry voice, but, like, shades of Tim Curry that make him endearingly weird and goofy and witty as hell while still being very sexy.

And yes, he's a sexy vampire, that's a big point in his favor and what most people are dwelling on. And I'm standing by the sexy part - listen, for the past few years I've been kind of wrestling with whether or not I'm bisexual, and the question was laid to rest the first time this fucker flirted with me in game. My heart raced, my cheeks flushed, I reflexively giggled and went "Whoo!" like a Southern Belle in need of a feinting couch. Every time he's flirted with me since has given me the fucking vapors. Thank you, Astarion, I'm bi for sure now. you solved that fucking riddle pretty decisively.

Let's move on.

Companion 2: Shadowheart, A Fellow Lapsed Catholic

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Shadowheart is a bundle of contradictions. She's got some of the best quips and quickest wits in the game, and she's also a huge fucking dork. She is oozing with confidence about the role she's been assigned to play and is incredibly assertive in group social situations, but on her own she's a mess of insecurities and is constantly plagued with doubts about her worth. She's constantly preaching about the need to be pragmatic and self-focused, but loves it whenever you are kind and generous. Depending on your choices during the tutorial level, she can become the first ride-or-die party member you get, and she's also a miserable pile of secrets who is terrified of you discovering what she really is.

See, Shadowheart is a cleric of Shar, the Goddess of Darkness, which is both in a literal and figurative sense - that is, Shar is the goddess of night and the absence of light, but, like, also the goddess of loss, and sorrow, and hopelessness, and secrets, and lies. The Goddess of Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss, basically. Being raised to follow the goddess has plagues Shadowheart with guilt over the secrets she's had to keep, the cruelties she's had to inflict, and the distance she's kept from all people in her life as a result of the church's creed. If you're a nerd who comes into this game knowing who Shar is, you'd probably be immediately suspicious of Shadowheart when you find out her alleigance, because Shar's basically one of the more prominent evil gods whose followers are always fucking things up for everyone.

However, I did not come into this game knowing that, but I did come into it knowing what's it's like to be raised in a religion that teaches you that many of your natural desires for companionship are wrong and to feel guilt and paranoia over how your every action will be judged, for like Shadowheart, I am also a Catholic.

Shadowheart's Want is to become a Dark Justiciar, which is basically the Sharran equivalent of the Spanish Inquisition, and to fully prove her devotion to Shar's will. The way she talks about Shar is so thickly coded with the way children of abusive parents talk about said parents that's it's legitimately frightening to witness at times. Shadowheart doesn't blame Shar for hurting her, she knows it's her fault for disappointing Shar in the first place.

Shadowheart's Need is to leave the fucking Catholic church. Depending on your choices, she can accomplish this with the help of two moon-worshipping lesbians, at which point she dyes her hair a color that would piss off her parents Shar and proceeds to indulge in a somewhat hedonistic rebellion of self actualization that only a lapsed Catholic can fully comprehend. I love her.

Companion 3: Lae'Zel, The World's Most Loyal Toad

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Ok, so, brief tangent: one of my favorite games of all time is Dragon Age Origins, and it is one of my favorite games of all time in part because it has Morrigan, one of the best characters in all of fantasy fiction, fuck you fight me. Morrigan is a divisive character in the DA fandom because she is notoriously hard to please if you're trying to be a good person - it was so prominent a criticism, in fact, that "Morrigan Disapproves" was put on a fucking t-shirt to play on/monetize the controversy.

But, see, the thing about Morrigan is that she's 1. incredibly complex and 2. designed to challenge your worldview, and to be challenged in turn. Morrigan isn't just an evil bitch, she has a genuine philosophy for why she behaves as coldly as she does, which in part stems from her awful upbringing by her cruel, selfish hermit mother who was trying to shelter her from an even crueller world that would see her in chains just for being a witch. Morrigan has been taught that love is a weakness others will exploit, that kindness is folly, and that everyone is out for themselves. And you need to contradict her on that - getting to know her inevitably involves fighting her on this point, and you proving to her that the cruelty she's been taught is wrong. If you are willing to listen, to argue, to truly understand this character, she grows because of you. It makes her character arc so fucking satisfying, when you get to the end of the game and she realizes that she does love you, she does want to be kind, and that even though she now feels more accutely than ever how love has made her weak, she can't be without it. It's so fucking good.

I bring Morrigan up because almost all the companions in Baldur's Gate 3 are on her level, in part because they are designed like her - to challenge you and be challenged in turn. And none of the core six are more like her than Lae'zel.

Which, sadly, includes the fan backlash part. A lot of fans of the game hate Lae'zel - she's too mean, they say, too hostile, to proud of her strange and callous worldview, too critical of our normal and kind outlook, too difficult to relate to.

These people are cowards.

If Shadowheart is Catholic, then Lae'zel is, like, Christian Reformed. A fundie. She's been training at Githyanki Bible Camp for years to be her lichqueen's perfectly loyal soldier, only to run into this minor snag of being kidnapped by Mindflayers, the ancestral enemies of her people, and infected with a tadpole that will turn her into one of them, the Worst Fate that can become a Githyanki. Luckily, she's read all of her people's Chick Tracts, and knows that if she can get to one of the Githyanki creches, they can use their special machine to pray the tadpole out of her brain and save her.

Lae'zel has drunk the metaphorical kool-aid of her people, but only to a point. See, Githyankis are viciously racist, but Lae'zel is REALLY quick to accept you and most of the other companions (not Shadowheart, though, as like a true Fundie, she cannot stand a Catholic) despite them not being Giths like herself. Yeah, she'll preen and posture about the superiority of her kind a bit, but she sides with you within seconds of meeting you, and from that point on she is ride or die until you give her a good reason to think otherwise. Lae'zel can be mean, stubborn, and arrogant, but she is above all else loyal.

Her Want is to be a perfect Githyanki warrior, earning the respect of her queen and serving her endlessly in the Astral Plane. Of course, when you actually get to that creche she's pointing you towards early in the game, this all falls apart on her, because just like Fundamentalist Christianity, Githyanki culture is little more than a sham designed to uphold an evil and exploitative power structure where the rich drain the life and resources of everyone beneath them and declare it the will of the divine. In this case, that "drain the life" part is explicitly literal, as the Githyanki queen literally devours the life force of any gith that gets even a bit close to rivaling her in power. If Lae'zel tries to follow her dream, it will end with her queen eating her soul.

Lae'zel's Need is to not only break out of her culture's indoctrination, but to find a way to make her life worthwhile on her own terms. It's heartbreaking to witness, honestly, because unlike the other core companions, Lae'zel has no idea what a life outside of her Want looks like. What is she without serving her queen? What the hell does she want? If you've been taught God your queen is all that is good, then how the fuck you you figure out what good is when you realize she's actually evil?

And while she goes through this seriously traumatic existential crisis, she finds the energy to be invested in the struggles of you and your companions. When the other characters are going through The Shit in their respective arcs, Lae'zel is always quick to note that she thinks they are strong and deserve more than they're getting - even Shadowheart, that fucking Catholic!

Because the first word you'd ever use to describe Lae'zel, the one that most succinctly captures who she is, is LOYAL. She fucking rocks, I love her.

Companion 4: Wyll, The Unjustly Underrated

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Almost no one talks about Wyll and it fucking sucks, man. I mean, we all know why (it starts with a Ra and ends in a Cism), but still it fucking blows dude. And yes, I include myself in this, anyone who's followed my blog can tell that Wyll's not the companion I fixate on the most.

But listen, I promise you, if the game let me take along four companions instead of three, Wyll... would be competing with Lae'zel for spot #4, and Lae'zel might win out because she's an angry girl, but... fuck I'm losing the plot.

Wyll is great though! He's severely underrated! He's one of the nicest companions you'll get, first of all, but he's not just a nice guy. Everyone's got layers in this, right? Wyll is nice, but he's also a bit arrogant - a glory hound, really. He's the only companion who's given himself a superhero name, and he routinely uses it. Dude wants to be fuckin' Batman so bad, it's wonderful.

He's also the most actively fucked member of the party. Everyone's got abusers in their past, but Wyll's is the only one who's followed him to your camp. Mizora, the devil he sold his soul too, frequently shows up to give him shitty tasks and shittier punishments, and is one of the most hateful fucking characters I have ever encountered in my life. Like, to put this in perspective: if you know me, you know that I have certain... preferences... when it comes to women. So if there was, say, a demon lady character who's also a bit of a dominatrix, and I fucking hated her guts, you'd probably be a bit surprised given, you know, my preferences.

But the way Mizora treats Wyll? The way she talks about him and to him? It's fucking heinous. She's not fun evil, she's evil evil, and she's got to fucking go.

It kind of reframes Wyll's kindness and cockiness as you experience it, because beneath the showy acts of heroism and the bluster, Wyll is a sad little dog in a burning apartment telling himself "this is fine!" over and over again.

Wyll's Want is to be a hero and make the sacrifice of his soul worth something. He has accepted that there is no redemption for himself, that Mizora preying upon his vulnerability in the past is something he can never recover from, that he cannot be free of her chains, and only hopes to use what time he has to do some good, even if it inevitably comes at the cost of his life.

His Need is to break out of Mizora's control, to wrest his fate back into his own hands, and to prove what has always been true: that he IS the hero he's selling himself as. It's a real Rango arc if you think about it.

Companion 5: Gale, The Friend With the Messiest Fucking Love Life You've Ever Heard Of Goddamn

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Gale... kind of breaks the companion formula, a little bit? Like, for the other five core companions, there is a clear-cut situation where they were abused and exploited by an asshole - Shar exploited Shadowheart, Cazador the master vampire exploited Astarion, Mizora exploits Wyll, etc. Gale's fucked up traumatic relationship is a bit... messier, and harder to untangle, because by his own admission, he was not blameless in it.

Gale is a wizard, and like all good wizards in fiction, he's a bit of a mad scientist. He was so good at wizarding, in fact, that the goddess of magic itself, Mystra, reached out to him, and eventually the two had a little romance. Now, fans have gone back and forth interpreting this, with some saying that Mystra was grooming Gale from childhood and thus is as bad as Cazador/Shar/Mizora/et cetera. I feel that's kind of a bad faith reading of the character, one that's actively ignoring the concept of what an ageless immortal goddess is to try and fit it into a human context.

For nerds who know about the setting, Mystra is NOT an evil goddess like Shar. In fact, she's kind of a vitally important goddess to have around, as Magic is such an integral part of the reality of this setting that not having a god of some sort for it results in an fucking extinction event - which the characters in the game know for a fact because at one point in the past, a mortal wizard killed Mystra and made that extinction event happen. Mystra reformed, as gods do, and eventually things got back to more or less normal, but that doesn't do much for the shitload of people and creatures that died during the period of time where magic was dead.

And that's what ends up souring Gale and Mystra's relationship. Gale, being mortal, felt he had to prove he was Mystra's equal, and so set out to find a source of magical power not unlike that used by the wizard in the past who killed Mystra. And when Mystra saw Gale doing that, she freaked the fuck out because she thought she was going to get killed again - because the wizard who slew her in the past ALSO felt he needed to prove he was equal to a goddess.

Neither character takes the breakup well. Gale feels like fucking shit because he fumbled a literal goddess, and also got a piece of super destructive magic lodged in his chest in the process that's slowly killing him. And Mystra is worried that the super powerful piece of magic lodged in Gale's chest could kill her, and also about the cult using a very similar piece of magic (it's a big plot point for the game I won't go into it this is already too long), and so, in an act of cruel godly pragmatism, she sends D&D Gandalf to tell Gale to use his the magic murder ball in his chest to kill the cult, even though it'll destroy him in the process. "Hi sweetie, please kill yourself on my behalf, k thanx!" basically.

It's... it's a mess.

Gale's Want is to prove he is Mystra's equal by mastering the ancient magic he's found, and either win her back or, better yet, become a god himself and dethrone her. As I said, he's got a bit of a mad scientist in him.

Gale's Need is to move on from this relationship, talk things out with his ex, give her her dvds the ancient magic artifacts back, and move on with his life.

I like Gale. He's got funny lines, he loves his cat, he's a goofy nerd, and while his love life is a mess, his heart is mostly in the right place. He needs some nudges to do the right thing, but he's a good guy deep down, and I always love it when fiction shows a relationship that falls apart not because one person in it was "bad," but because the two people were just not compatible. Yeah, Gale fucked up, but you can understand why he fucked up, and he can understand it too if you help him own up to his mistakes and move forward. Also, he loves his cat, he can't be all bad.

Companion 6: Karlach, the Most Beautiful Woman I've Ever Seen

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Karlach is my favorite companion in this game, which is why I saved her for (sort of) last. And, yes, sure, part of it is because of my aforementioned preferences with women...

she's so goddamn pretty

But it's also because of how she plays with those core themes I've mentioned. Karlach was sold into slavery as a teenager, where her devil master ripped out her heart and replaced it with an engine to turn her into a super-strong gladiator. She's been living in literal Hell for years, fighting every day to survive, and like Astarion she actually views being kidnapped by Mindflayers as a godsend since it freed her from her enslavement.

Unlike Astarion, Karlach doesn't have a long life to look forward to. That engine in her chest can't work properly outside of Hell, and it will eventually break, overheat, and melt her from the inside out. Karlach is the only companion who knows she's going to die soon whether or not the tadpole is taken out - no matter how this adventure ends, she will die.

At least, that's what she's told herself. Karlach's Want is to never return to Literal Hell, no matter what, because she's afraid if she does she will be taken as a slave again, and that there is no hope for a good life if she touches foot on that ground again. Following this want means she WILL die - either by the engine, by her enemies in the mortal plane, or by turning into a mind flayer (because while mind flayers can retain their hosts' memories, they are NOT the same being as their host).

And Karlach is convinced she's ok with this! No, really, she's fine! This is fine! She's got a few days left to live, and she's going to enjoy them! She is unfailingly kind and compassionate, always willing to help others, always cheery and taking the best view of her friends and people in need, a ray of fucking sunshine.

And beneath it all she's terrified and sad. When you get towards the end of the game, and Karlach feels how close the Inevitable End is, she reaches a breaking point where that happy facade snaps and it's... it's gut wrenching, man. It breaks your fucking heart, because as much as she's determined not to risk setting foot in Literal Hell ever again, she really doesn't want to die.

...

Karlach's Need is to go back to Literal Hell long enough to get that engine replaced. Her Need is to find hope, TRUE hope, not just a facade of optimism - a true belief that she can face the worst and come out of it ok, that she can survive, that she is not alone in facing the darkest shit this world can throw at her. Her Need is to find the strength to believe that she can live, even if it's hard, even if it's Hell to get there.

And Karlach is worth it. She is worth Hell.

Companions 7 - 10 Speedrun

I don't have as much to say about the four other companions you can get in the game, mainly because I already love these six so much that trying to take time to get to know four other weirdos who I don't get to recruit until halfway through the game just... like, there's a party limit of four characters and one is me, I can only take three of you along at a time, I'm prioritizing the one's who've been with me since all the goblin shit in Act 1, feel me? The rest of you seem real neat but I've got my nakama all set, we're good.

Halsin is the one I know the most of these four because he helped me at the tail end of the goblin stuff and he seems fine. He's a big nice hippie who turns into a bear and is into polygamy and carving wooden ducks. A lot of people thirst for him, but he's not my type - like I get the appeal but this is a case of Not My Favorite Pennywise Hentai But OK as far as I'm concerned. I like his subplot about restoring balance to the cursed forest, though. Felt like teaming up with Smokey the Bear.

Minthara is the companion that used to require you to kill a shitload of innocent people to recruit, but people found weird work-arounds that involved turning her into a sheep and so the developers sighed and released a patch where you could recruit her without mass murder using only slightly cheesey means. She is Genuinely Evil, but in a complicated way that's still fun from a character perspective. She's also a great comically serious character - i.e. someone who's so serious all the time that they end up being incredibly funny on accident just by their muted reactions to all the weirdness around them. From the clip compilations I've watched on youtube, her romance is basically a Lady Macbeth situation, and that's pretty hot. If it weren't for Karlach, I'd... romance Astarion, but if it weren't for Astarion, I'd... romance Shadowheart, but if it weren't for Shadowheart, I'd... romance Lae'zel, but if it weren't for Lae'zel, I might romance Minthara. Or Wyll. One of the two.

Jaheira is a character from one of the previous Baldur's Gate games, neither of which I've played, so I had no preconceptions or attachments to her going in this game. She basically becomes your surrogate mom as the game goes along, and I mean that as a compliment. She's pretty great and fills a nice emotional niche - I didn't use her that much because, again, I've already got six close friends to rotate out, I'm not going to ditch them for long periods of time to hang out with my MOM, but it was nice having her along for the ride a few times.

Minsc is the OTHER returning character from the previous games, and from what I can tell he's basicall Kronk from The Emperor's New Groove but with a funny accent. I like him, he's fun comic relief, and he throws a hamster at people while telling it to eat their eyes. I don't have a lot to say on Minsc, I just think he's neat.

At some point I might do a followup to this gushing about NPCs from the game, because goddamn the supporting cast is great too. Omeluum, Us, the Emperor, fucking Dame Aylin. Dame Aylin is so goddamn fucking cool, I want to read novels about her adventures, she rocks so hard. All glory to the Nightsong!

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lendeah · 11 months ago

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A small prompt because I was feeling sad and inspired😞sorry if the writing is lazy, wrote it in a rush!

Prompt: "you make me feel so alone."

Tags: Angst, Ascended! Astarion, mentions of blood, Astarion x Fem!Tav

Words: 1.3k

I thought the illithid invasion would be the worse thing that I’d witness in my whole life. The scene unfolding in front of me, however, comes close by. Another scream of pain rips the air, bouncing off the walls of Cazador’s Throne Room, well, Astarion’s Throne Room. I close my eyes, trying to distance myself from this reality, as I have done so many times over the past few months. But the sound of blood splashing the marble floor is enough to make me sick.

The poor goblin had been caught stealing some relic from the Palace, when he was on cleaning duty. Obviously, Astarion hadn’t taken the news too well, and decided to make an example out of him.

The example? A hundred and twenty lashes on his back, one for each coin the relic was worth. All of this while Master Astarion watched from his throne, of course. He wasn’t one to get his hands dirty.

Astarion sits on his throne, observing the punishment from afar. His demeanor is cool and collected, but a strange air of madness and depravity emanates from him. His piercing gaze is full of anticipation, and a hint of sadism is visible on his face.

The goblin's scream is only interrupted by the harsh sound of the whip, the noise of flesh hitting flesh. After what seems like an eternity, the punishment ends, and I exhale a shaky breath, finally daring to reopen my eyes. The goblin lies unconscious on the floor, and for a moment I wonder if he is dead, before I hear him wail. His back is bleeding, the skin cut open and bruised all over. Astarion seems pleased with himself, chuckling and clapping his hands.

"Amazing show! I loved it! We should repeat sometime” He exclaims. Then, he looks at me, a sadistic glint in his eyes. "What did you think of my little show?"

I make my face a facade of indifference.

“It was beautiful, my king” I lie, knowing to tread my words carefully around him.

"Oh, I know you love that..." His eyes travel all over my body, before stopping at my face. "But perhaps we could put on quite a show ourselves later in our chambers, yes? I have some special plans for my lovely pet."

A shiver runs through my back at the thought of his hands on me, but I plaster an smile and nod silently. He smirks and tugs at my leash, making me sit in his lap, as he runs his fingers through my hair.

"Ah, my lovely pet... So beautiful and obedient. Isn't my little spawn the most amazing thing I could've found?"

I feel nauseous, as I always do when I’m with him nowadays. At first I thought I could be happy as long as he was happy, but soon I discovered he wasn’t the man I loved anymore. The man I once loved has been replaced by this cruel and sadistic red eyed thing.

"Oh, you don't appear very happy," Astarion notices, but he doesn't seem to care. "Your face isn't as beautiful as before... You no longer smile as you used to... Is there something bothering you?" His hands caress the side of your forehead, brushing off a few stray strands of hair. “Perhaps I can alleviate your worries? My little pet has to be happy with me, after all."

A stray tear rolls down my cheek, but I do my best to smile and pretend to be happy.

“Of course I’m happy, master. I will always be happy with you”

"That's my good girl," Astarion seems pleased with you, not noticing the fake cheer. "Now, let's go to our chambers. I've plenty of things in mind for my dear little pet."

The body on the floor has already been lifted by the time we get out of the throne, making in to the master bedroom in no time. My breath grows shaky as I enter the bedroom, my heartbeat quickens, and my lips are dry as Astarion closes the door behind me. I can feel my legs heavy and weak beneath me, and I just want to run away as fast as I can.

The room looks almost unchanged from how it used to be when we first came here, but all the memories I have with him now have a darker undertone. After he has his way with my body, and we lay tangled in bed I silently weep on my pillow, and for the last time, I let myself get vulnerable with him.

“What happened to you?” I choke, almost a whisper.

He stirs next to me, not expecting my outburst.

"What happened to me?” He huffs “My whole life I've been the slave of some powerful Vampire master who wanted to use me for his amusement, I finally manage to free myself and rule over this kingdom... And I get this weakling, asking dumb questions? What makes you think you have the right to ask such things?"

I look at the ceiling. At this point, I’m not even hurt by his words. Not even annoyed. I just feel apathetic. However, I let myself try for the last time.

“You make me feel so alone” I whisper.

He scoffs at my words

“Oh? Alone? But you have me! That’s all you wanted, right? For me to love you." He asks, seemingly amused by my reaction.

Another tear falls down my cheek, and I laugh dryly.

“I have never felt more alone than how I feel now with you”

Astarion chuckles darkly.

"You're such a pitiful creature. All you do is whine and cry. You never make sense. You're nothing but a fool. I gave you everything you ever wanted. All the power and glory you could wish for. This beautiful body, my undivided attention. And yet, you're the one who's feeling alone?"

His voice grows harsher, and his eyes are cold as ice when he looks at me.

I turn my head to finally face him, “There is nothing of the warm, funny and caring man that I loved. Instead, I am in a golden cage trapped with a cruel, ruthless man who pretends to love me so I won’t leave his side” I take a shaky breath “So yes, I am alone”

"You dare talk to me like that?" His voice is sharp as a knife, and his eyes blaze. “You're lucky I still keep you around. I had half a mind to make you one of my spawn, but you seem too stupid to be worthy of such an honor."

And at that point, I finally realize, that the old Astarion won’t ever come back. He is dead, right next to Cazador’s severed body. And I will never forgive myself for letting him go through with the ritual.

But I can’t spend one more second inside this haunted place.

With the last of my strength, I plaster a fake smile and tell him “I’m sorry, Master, you are right. Forgive my manners, the goblin scene from before left me a bit shaken”

"I forgive you, my pet... You were just too naive, that's all. I had to bring you back to your senses."

He leans over to kiss my forehead, and I suppress a shudder. We spend the night like that, in each other’s embrace, but I lay awake the whole time, watching the time go by.

By morning, when Astarion returns from his usual hunting routine, the Vampire Court Consort is nowhere to be seen. Nobody seems to have seen her leave the palace, nor escape through a window.

Rumors say, the woman escaped through a portal with a certain wizard. Others add that a light cleric, claiming to share her knowledge, snuck her out with an invisibility spell. The only sure thing is that, for the rest of his life, the Vampire King will search all around the world for his property, knowing she was the first and last woman he loved.

#astarion ancunin #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 #bg3 fanfic prompt #bg3 tav #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #baldurs gate fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 #astarion baldurs gate #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #fanfic #writing prompt

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ghost-proofbaby · 5 months ago

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ATTENTION: YOU HAVE BEEN INVITED TO A SUMMERTIME WRITING EVENT!

hey you. yeah, you. has the summer heat got you down? have you been looking for all the right vibes in all the wrong places?

same.

which is why i invite you to join me, your friendly neighborhood ghost, in a wonderful and excellently vibey event to cure all that summertime sadness and turn it sickeningly sweet.

through the month of july and august, i will be talking requests based on guidelines listed below, with the only real theme being summer. i'll be writing for all our favorite fictional crushes, so just follow the rules, submit a request, and vibe with me <3

IN ORDER TO BEGIN, you'll first need to pick your poisons: the muse, and the flavor.

for this event, i will be writing for the following characters:

♡ eddie munson (stranger things)

♡ steve harrington (stranger things)

♡ robin buckley (stranger things)

♡ astarion ancunin (baldur's gate 3)

♡ gale dekarios (baldur's gate 3)

once you've chosen the lover of your summertime fantasies, you're going to need to choose your flavor of sweetness. for these dog days, our menu includes:

♡ strawberry: fluff

♡ blueberry: hurt/comfort

♡ lemon: smut

♡ blackberry: angst

with your muse and flavor now chosen, you must choose what time of day you'll be enjoying your summer sweet treat. we have two options for this category, with two different sets of rules, so please read carefully!

summer solstice: the solstice that marks the onset of summer, at the time of the longest day.

if you submit a summer solstice request, you are requesting for a longer fic, 2k words minimum. these requests will take me longer, and should be reserved for more descriptive/specific requests. when you submit one, you will need to include a full description of what you are looking for.

i.e.: "could i please have a strawberry summer solstice with eddie munson, where reader and eddie meet for the first time at a bonfire and spend the entire night getting up to sheenanigans like stealing wine from others, skinny dipping in lover's lake, star-gazing on the shore, and eddie ends up walking reader home at the end of it all?"

you must have a description of what you are looking for in the request for this specific type. if you give nothing for me to go off of, i can't write you the minimum of 2k words of sweetness! this is for anyone who may have a specific vision for a story, but can't execute it/find it across the appropriate tags already.

midsummer's night: the eve of the longest day of summer, marked as the shortest night of summer.

if you submit a midsummer's night request, you are requesting for a shorter fic, under 2k words (500-1k words most likely). these are requests i will be able to fulfill more quickly, and work best for anyone who wants to submit but doesn't have a very specific idea in mind!

i.e.: "could i please blueberry lemon midsummer's night with astarion? maybe including an argument about a recent fight or something where one of them nearly got hurt!"

these requests have a lot more leniency, and will be more about what my mind will conjure from vague descriptions! try to avoid giving too many details when requesting this kind - if you have a more specific vision, just hit me with a summer solstice (and some patience) <3

alright. whew. now that we've gotten through all the guidelines regarding requests, feel free to drop into my inbox and let the party begin! again, i'll be taking these requests and fulfilling them all the way through august.

if there's a specific character you want to see not listed on here but i have expressed interest in before (i.e. joel miller, spencer reid, karlach from bg3, etc.), feel free to still request them but be wary that there's no guarantee i will fulfill the request!

as always with these events, be sure your requests abides by my rules, and once again, please be patient with me. these type of events in the past have spurred on enough responses i don't get to even half of them, but i'm prolonging this over two months to try and ensure i can get a bulk of whatever lovely ideas you all send in written! <3

aight. okay. let's party on, for real now. happy summer, y'all!

#ghost's stories #summertime sweetness #i know there's so so many writing events happening right now i've just had this idea since... early june? maybe before june?#either way it's lovely seeing the fandom so active again <3 #i hate summer so this is the cure for the disease that is suffering through july/august where i am in the world #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #robin buckley x reader #astarion x reader #gale dekarios x reader #stranger things #bg3 #yes. i'm using this event to possibly try my hand at gale #no one tell roe

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brabblesblog · 11 months ago

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Ch 5: I found him whom my soul loveth: I held him, and would not let him go.

Astarion has ascended, and she has stayed with him. Life in the Crimson Palace isn’t as idyllic as it seems. Is there a chance for their relationship to go back to how it was? Or is it too late for the Ascendant and his consort?

This series is about Ban, my Tav, and the Vampire Ascendant. Will be angst and smut, with sprinkles of fluff.

This fic is a softer take on Ascendant!Astarion and of the changes he undergoes after the rite. Can Ban handle the change, and if a chance came, would she choose to run? And can the Ascendant win her back in time? Inspired by the concept of vampire wives and that IGN interview with Larian that discussed the ascension.

Professionally edited by @editing-by-night

A small complication and a moment of weakness after a month and a half apart brings Astarion back into her orbit. She considers forgiveness; he will do what it takes to win her back.

Read on AO3.

Masterlist.

He’d promised it would be the last she’d see of him. So far, he'd held up to that promise rather well.

Astarion considered this thought with a humorless laugh, then threw his crystal goblet, watching it shatter on the wall. The servant polishing his boot flinched imperceptibly, used to these outbursts of rage and self-pity.

The past month had been spent burying himself in work, in drink, and in the company of people who meant nothing to him. He’d tried his best to move on, throwing himself into organizing party after party, scheme after scheme. It was harder without his right hand, without her helping behind the scenes, but his mind managed.

His heart however, did not. The days passed in a blur. He would at times find himself in a meeting, patriars asking him about some inane issue, and he’d realize he couldn’t even remember what the damn meeting was about. He’d suddenly snap back to the present, sitting on his throne, with some beautiful stranger riding his cock, realizing he was watching it happen as if from a distance, with a detached indifference he remembered all too well from the centuries before Ban. The wave of loathing and shame would follow quickly thereafter, and the illusion would be broken; he wouldn’t be able to bring Ban to mind anymore. He’d shove whoever it was off his lap at that point, sending them to the chamberlain for their payment and whatever else they might need. He’d then fuck his own fist, eyes squeezed shut, begging for his mind to sink back into memories so he could see her, if only for a moment. He’d come eventually, a cold, empty sensation of releasing into thin air - more temporary relief than any sort of bliss. He ached for the peace he’d felt when he could come in her, when his mind was cradled in the comfort of her presence and his cock held deep within her core. When she’d been here he’d never wanted to come anywhere else than in her or on her, to give her his seed as she deserved. It was when he’d felt closest to her these past months, the closest he could get to her heart, the closest he could find to contentment, and now it was gone.

The parties, the meetings, the decadence, the sex. None of it mattered without her.

The nights were the worst of all - that was when he was the least on guard. Before, Ban had held him through the night when he’d needed it, as rarely as it had happened. He had by and large refused to ask for it, but somehow she’d known anyway, wrapping her strong arms around his chest each time. Nowadays the bed was too large, too cold, and he still curled up on his side, imagining her there. These were the moments when he allowed himself to shed tears, let himself pour his anguish out onto the sheets and into the empty room. He begged the ghost of her, whispered pleas of please, come back, and I’m sorry repeated again and again.

Had he the courage to say these things to her face, things might have been better. But the Ascendant’s pride always won out in the light of day.

Godsdamned Ban, he thought, looking down at his half-polished boot. Already gone from his life, yet he was still working his hardest to keep her safe.

Word had spread amongst the Waterdeep covens that a vampire who could walk in the sun had been seen alongside Gale. The bride, no less, of the vampiric world’s newest member - the Vampire Ascendant. No one had yet reached out to Astarion, the other vampires seemingly weighing their options. They didn’t exactly know what to expect of the Ascendant - of his powers nor his predilections. All they knew was that Cazador Szarr’s palace had been usurped by his upstart spawn, with the help of the hero who he’d taken as his consort. But word had gotten back to him of their interest in his daywalking beloved, and the idea of them keeping tabs on her made him want to claw each and every one of their throats out.

The crown jewel of his collection. His most prized treasure. Just… out there, for anyone to hurt. To take. His skin crawled at the thought. He must have her back - not only for his sake, but hers.

“Out,” he ground out, and the room cleared, one servant quickly picking up the broken pieces of glass on his way to the door.

He knew Gale had formidable skill, perhaps enough to protect Ban - if he was prepared. But he wouldn’t expect the other covens. Gale’s wards presumably only worked against the Ascendant and his frankly unhelpful summons.

He sat silently on his throne for quite some time, hands wrapped around the carved armrests, considering his next move.

The next week, flowers started to appear outside Gale’s tower, carts and carts of them that befuddled the people of Waterdeep. They were filled with vibrant red roses, snow-white tulips, purple asters, and every other flower imaginable. Clothes, rings, and other items were also sent over, always with notes written in an elegant hand.

I think of you and wish you well. - A. A.

This was your favorite dress. I figured you might want to have it. - A. A.

Ban kept the letters, tucked them into a small box. She appreciated the gestures and the gifts, and in her heart there was a certain joy in knowing he was thinking of her, even if she refused to respond. She’d yet to decide what to do about anything - even the most pertinent topic of when she’d be moving out of Gale’s tower was a question without a definite answer. The wizard had told her to take as much time as she needed, and she had begun to ask herself if she could learn to love him. But then Astarion’s gifts had started to arrive.

Tonight she sat with Gale, a goblet in hand, drinking wine from his cellar’s stock mixed with some animal blood. It was a far cry from her usual fare of blood sourced from highly compensated donors amongst the staff, but it sufficed. The wizard sat with her, his own goblet almost empty. They looked like the picture of domesticity, except for the fact that Ban was bracing herself to tell Gale of her meager plans for the future.

“Thank you for your hospitality, but I think it’s finally time for me to find my own path,” she said, a line she had practiced a few times.

Gale bit his lip. He had known this was coming, of course. He downed the rest of his wine nervously, then fingered the filigree around the goblet’s neck.

“You can stay as long as you need, Ban. You know that,” he began; unable to hide the crestfallen expression on his face. He had been trying to win her over this entire time, and all Astarion had to do to derail everything was send trinkets with meaningless notes.

“I know. I just don’t want to overstay my welcome,” she answered. “And no. I’m not going back to him. I plan on going back to Baldur’s Gate and getting myself a place to stay.”

He nodded, watching her intently. Should I even say anything? He considered his options and the risks, but the wine told him to say damn the risks and try anyway. Gale moved to Ban; he didn’t think, forcing his brain to take a back seat for once. He cupped her cheek and before either of them were able to rethink it, his lips covered hers, asking permission to taste her mouth.

She realized she was more than a little drunk - an experience she’d thought lost to her when she’d turned - and Gale’s sloppy kiss wasn’t unwelcome. They hadn’t done anything physical since they’d kissed the last time, but they had developed a habit of holding each other’s hands when they were out and about.

For safety, Gale had said, a shy smile playing at his lips when he’d done it the first time in the markets of Waterdeep. She had taken it in stride, and squeezed his hand back, grateful for the kind gesture.

Ban parted her lips, allowing Gale access. He dove in hungrily while his hand took her goblet, placing it on the table before they spilled wine on the carpets. She stood, her arms wrapping around his neck, kissing him with just as much eagerness as he was showing.

“I would ask for more,” he whispered as the kiss broke. “I… I suppose I am asking. Before you go, at least.”

The wise response would be to refuse. But Ban had gone far too long without sex or any sort of release, and so she merely nodded. There was much appeal in not thinking for a little while, in not being responsible for one night.

She let Gale lead her to the bed and she laid down, watching as he slowly clambered up and over her. Her hands rested on his chest, feeling his heart pound as he nervously began to slip a hand from her cheek to her neck, then even lower to very delicately cup her breast. His hips bucked, his erection pressing against her through their clothes, making them both groan.

Gale leaned forward to mouth at the hollow of her throat, her eyes falling closed at the sensation. When he pressed his hand against her mound, she ground against his palm, biting her lip. But her mind provided a totally different image: white curls and crimson eyes, fangs nipping at her neck, words sweet and dangerous like poisoned honey. Gale found her clit and rubbed at it through her clothes; she almost moaned Astarion’s name.

She couldn’t do this to Gale.

She placed her hands on his shoulders with a gentle pressure that told him to stop. Gale immediately took a deep breath and sat back up. He met her gaze, but there was no anger or accusation there, merely a sadness that told her he wasn't surprised.

“It’s him, isn’t it?”

She couldn’t do more than nod. It was always him.

Gale swallowed the lump in his throat. “I apologize. I should have known better. You’re not- of course you’re not-"

“No. I’m not. It’s… I don’t know if I’ll ever be,” she whispered, “And that isn’t fair to you. Or to anyone else I’ll ever consider being romantically involved with.”

Gale retreated to sit at the foot of the bed. “If you really wish to go back to Baldur’s Gate, Ban, I’m sure you’ll be alright. Just don’t… don’t go back to him. Don’t let the wards down. Not if he’s bound to treat you that way again.”

Ban sat beside him, squeezing his hand. “I won’t. I’ll leave in a tenday, I suppose. Get my plans in order. See Waterdeep a little more before then.”

“Will you visit again sometime?” Gale asked. His tone was light, masking his pain and apprehension; as much as it was a bitter consolation, he would like to see her again, even as only a friend.

“Of course, Gale. You’re still my best friend. You always were,” she reminded him, then leaned in to give him a hug.

When Gale finally left her room, Ban laid on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Gale's touch had left her wanting, and although she had been avoiding touching herself to avoid thinking of Astarion, she was a little drunk, and aching.

She closed her eyes, allowing herself to indulge. She imagined him there, smiling down at her. Her Astarion, hand snaking up her thigh and between her legs, as her own hand mirrored the motion.

“Oh, gods. Astarion,” she breathed the moment her fingers pressed against herself through her trousers. I miss you.

The world spun, and all of a sudden she was in their bedroom. She saw herself on their bed, her legs splayed out in front of her. Her breathing was sharp and ragged, her hips desperately bucking up against her fist.

Her- no. His. His legs, splayed out. His breathing, ragged. His hips, furiously pumping and chasing his release.

His hand - their hand, as Ban saw through his eyes - stopped stroking his cock as he realized they were in each other’s heads.

You caught me at a bad time, pet.

And yet he made no effort to hide what he was doing. He could feel her begrudging arousal just as she could feel his; his was a raging, ravenous hunger blended with painful longing. He opened his hand; they could both see the thread of precum trailing from his tip to his palm, his cock, hard and flushed, throbbing insistently at her sudden presence.

He searched her thoughts for a moment, sensing her shock at seeing him taking care of himself. What? You’re not around. I have to make do, as undignified as this is. Wait. Don’t tell me-

No, Astarion. I haven’t done anything. Well, except Gale. But she wasn’t quite ready for him to know that yet.

Astarion couldn’t help but laugh. The taste of her arousal mixing with his was intoxicating, and his hand closed around himself again. He stroked his cock slowly, languidly, his hips rolling with each pass of his hand. As glorious as this was, the Ascendant couldn’t help but try to punish her for her absence.

Don’t hold back on my account, little love. I don’t. He flicked through memories of the various conquests he’d had since she’d left. He expected - hoped - to feel a wave of jealousy from her.

But what he didn’t realize was that she could see the emptiness in each memory. Always on the throne, and always with him not touching them, his gaze far away. Completely devoid of intimacy or even interest. He didn’t realize that he was an open book, so easily read; one merely had to pay attention.

Ban smirked to herself and decided to play his game, giving him a quick look at what had almost happened between her and Gale.

She instantly felt his raw, unbridled jealousy wash over her like the crest of a gigantic wave. The next, more subtle feeling, was one of deep loathing - for himself, she realized. Astarion didn’t speak for a moment, his hand stilling briefly as he regained his composure.

So that was a lie - not that it matters. His voice was smooth and level in her head, as if he was just discussing the weather. His hand resumed its steady rhythm.

It's the truth. That’s as far as we got.

She felt relief seep into him and saw his hand speed up in response.

Poor, poor Gale. He was never a match for me, was he, pet? That gave his ego a boost, and he moaned softly, just for her to hear. He kept his eyes locked onto his cock, letting her see and feel every stroke.

“Do you see what you’re doing to me?” He spoke into the empty room, using his voice this time. He could see her too, see her tugging her trousers down enough to touch herself. He wanted to tell her she could have this, have all of him, if she would just come home. But he held that thought back.

I do, she whispered into his mind.

Their thoughts mingled together in a blend of lust and longing that was almost suffocating in its intensity. Astarion’s mind was a whirlwind of heartache and yearning, and he greedily took in everything he saw through Ban’s eyes. His hips stuttered, slowly losing their rhythm as he approached his climax.

I need you. I want you. I ache for you.

Deeper in his mind, where he refused to dwell except in the darkest of moments, he whispered something else.

I love you. I’m sorry. Come back. Please. I’ll do anything.

These words did not reach her. These he kept tightly under lock and key.

Ban’s fingers gently rubbed her clit. The sight of his cock made her feel wonderfully wet, but also painfully empty. She helplessly slipped two fingers inside, groaning at the sensation. She remained silent, letting Astarion do the talking, but he could feel her approaching the edge, matching his pace.

“Can you imagine what we would be doing, pet, if you were here?” His hand moved faster, hips lifting off of the bed as he fucked himself relentlessly. He swiped at the tip with every pass, cock throbbing with every stroke, desperately wanting more than his own hand, wanting her heat and her tightness and that feeling of burying himself deep within her - wanting her. He’d had to make do with others and with his own hand for so long. Having her here in some way was exquisite.

He could feel her walls through her fingers, and it was all too easy to imagine that it was his cock inside her. The shared fantasy made her gasp; she focused on the velvet feel of his length, felt every throb and the sheer aching hardness of him as his hand moved ever faster.

They moved as one, the rhythm of their hands and hips matching one another. Despite being miles apart, this somehow felt more intimate than any other time they’d made love. His hand was hers, and her thoughts were his. They felt singular, and both felt their orgasms rip through both of their bodies, the white-hot explosion of pleasure from each feeding and intensifying the other’s.

Astarion groaned her name as he came, forcing his eyes to stay open so Ban could see him spilling onto his hand and the muscled plane of his abdomen. It was still the hollow feeling of coming into nothing, but her presence and seeing her come against her hand made it far more satisfying than anything he’d had in months.

He shuddered as he came down from the high. “All this should have been in you,” he said, holding his hand up for her to see. “Only you deserve this. No one else can have it.”

She watched his hand hungrily, but regret was starting to set in. She’d been too drunk, too aroused to end the connection before they’d gone too far. This would only complicate their - well - whatever it was they were.

“We shouldn’t have done this.” It was the first time she’d actually spoken aloud since they’d joined minds, not trusting her voice not to crack.

And yet here we are. Astarion was quiet for a moment, considering how much to tell her. He was sure he could get the covens to back down if he talked to the most influential one, but what if they went after her regardless? He was too far away to help. And if his pride got in the way of her safety, he'd never forgive himself. My treasure. Do one thing for me - always try to be somewhere safe by nightfall. Promise me.

He sensed confusion in Ban and provided answers before she had to ask. The local covens in Waterdeep aren’t happy about your presence.

Ban rolled her eyes at this, immediately assuming this to either be a lie, or a tactic to get her to run to him for safety.

“Let me guess,” she scoffed, her voice tinged with anger. “You let it slip that your bride is here, and that you’d like to visit Waterdeep more often because of me - or that you’ll even consider expanding your influence here to protect me. Am I wrong?”

Astarion sighed. He moved off the bed to head to their - no, just his now, he reminded himself sadly - bathroom.

No. He made sure to say this mentally, allowing his emotions to bleed through the connection so that it brooked no doubt. The covens talk. You’re a vampire walking around in the daylight. What else did you expect?

“Just be careful,” he added, as he prepared his bath.

She held back a curse. She didn’t want to let Astarion know that she planned on moving back to Baldur’s Gate, but not informing him could possibly endanger Gale. If the covens had seen her, they had seen who she’d been with; Gale was well known in Waterdeep.

“Let them know I’m moving back to Baldur’s Gate in a tenday. And before you say anything - I’m getting my own place.”

Astarion stilled, hand frozen on the tap he'd been about to turn. She’s moving back?

There was a palpable feeling of joy that passed from his mind to hers. Then he forced himself to calm, and the feeling receded like the tide.

“That’s… wonderful,” he said lamely. His hand resumed its task, and the water turned on.

“You’ll always be welcome here, Ban. Even as a guest. I…” he trailed off, realizing he was about to say that this was her house as much as it was his. But was it, really, when she had already chosen to close that chapter of her life? When she seemed to have come to regret the life they’d tried to make together?

“I would greatly appreciate seeing you again,” was what he finally ended up saying.

She tugged up her trousers, choosing her words carefully.

“We can still be civil, I suppose. If you behave. Maybe one day I’ll even pay you a visit.”

The Ascendant didn’t like that she had the upper hand, didn’t like how desperate he was for any scrap of her attention. But what could he do? He was painfully aware of how bereft he’d been without her. The Ascendant told himself he was just maneuvering the situation, allowing her to feel like he was willing to be vulnerable, giving her reasons to consider coming back, but even he had trouble believing it.

“Then I’ll endeavor to win your trust enough for you to want to do so.” He sank into the bathwater, a small sigh of relief escaping him as the water warmed him.

She was silent for a heartbeat. The distance between them made her feel safe, knowing he couldn’t reach her; not that he was likely to drag her back to the palace, but it had always remained a niggling fear in her mind. “I appreciate the gifts, by the way. But we both know that gifts are not what I want from you.”

He sighed again. “Then we should also both know that I cannot be what you wish to see in me. I’m not that cuddly, sweet spawn anymore. I can never be that again.”

She felt a small taste of his anguish as he said those words, the mental link providing her with a glimpse before he quickly shielded it away.

For that split second she’d seen his hatred for his past self, how insecure he was of that spawn. Because for all of that man’s weaknesses, he'd been brave enough to lay bare his heart to her. To allow himself to be seen and loved, and to be open to loving and being hurt as a result.

The Ascendant saw that, and longed to be that for her, but was terrified. Control was the name of his game, and the idea of giving that up, even to her, was almost unconscionable.

She pretended not to have seen it to save his dignity. She wasn’t really sure what to make of it just yet, anyway.

“I know.” Ban settled on that for now. She decided to give him a little bit of grace. “I don’t mind us talking, I suppose. You can always reach for me, and I’ll try to be there,” she offered.

There was an overpowering feeling of elation that reached her before it was abruptly silenced.

I shall keep that in mind, came his reply.

As she tugged up her blankets to sleep, a final thought was sent from the Ascendant as he bathed. It was a small rumination that he sent just before the mental link disappeared, and he shifted his attention onto dealing with the possible threat of the Waterdeep covens.

Sleep well. I’ll be here when you need me.

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spacemonkeysalsa · 6 months ago

Note

Astarion's scars as a tattoo, yeah or nah?

tl;dr - that's a hard nah from me

I'm pretty heavily tattooed, but I don't have any pop culture tattoos, yet. I am considered a few different pop culture tattoos, including some bg3 related ones. Astarion is my favorite character, and I am definitely not getting his scars, but another pop culture tattoo I have considered at multiple points in the past is the brand of sacrifice from Berserk.

If you're not familiar, it's a popular tattoo among Berserk fans and it functions in universe as a sign that this person has been marked to be consumed in another person's ascension to godhood.

There is a pretty big difference between the brand of sacrifice and Astarion's brand though.

Those baring the brand of sacrifice in Berserk's universe are not slaves. The mark was not put upon them by their slaver. You can argue that they were similarly exploited, but it's not a one to one analogue with chattel slavery at all.

When I thought about getting Astarion's scars as a tattoo I immediately didn't feel right about it, and to be perfectly honest, I didn't recognize why I felt that way. I was not thinking about it deeply.

Later, after discussing it with my sister (who is covered in recognizable pop culture related tats) she managed to put my discomfort into words. Basically, she pointed out that the scars are a slave brand. There is historical significance to these kinds of marks, and it's use in the story of bg3 only emphasizes that.

What I'm describing is a very white woman, talking to another very white woman, like 7 months ago when we'd isolated ourselves and been playing the game nonstop and hadn't peaked in on the fandom yet, because we (correctly) thought that would probably be horrible.

And, I just say that, because I think that if the two of us could pick up on the implications of the scars, everyone else should probably be able to (at a minimum) understand this position when it's spelled out for them. If that's how uncomfortable we felt, in the privacy, basically of just our own minds, playing the game in a vacuum, I can't even imagine what it's like for black fans trying to participate in the fandom.

Ultimately, it is an individual's choice what tattoos they want to get, but the assertion that I've been seeing from people that they shouldn't be judged for it is just not correct. Judging people for their tattoos is totally allowed, actually. The kinds of tattoos that someone gets says a lot about them. I'm positive people judge me for my tattoos all the time, and they are allowed to do that. I have those insect knee-bending wing tattoos, I'm sure someone thinks those are dumb as hell.

So, I've had the chance to talk to a few people who wanted to get Astarion tattoos. I always tell them outright why I don't think they should get the scars and then I try to work with them to come up with something else. I've been prepared for pushback, but I actually haven't gotten any. I think people are more likely to be reasonable when you talk in person.

It's only in internet conversations between strangers that I see real pushback.

On the other side of things, I know the idea of identification with this character, and reclamation feels very powerful, and it's just not effective to try and convince people to have a totally different emotional response to something they experienced. So, I'm not surprised to see people double down in that context.

I wish empathy was enough. But, in case it's not, I'm actually going to try an adjacent angle, as a person who is covered in tattoos.

Let's talk about the most common reasons that people regret their tattoos: 1) They get big, bold, distinctive tattoos before they have a realistic idea of what their adult aesthetic and vibe will actually be (happens a lot to people who get serious and huge tattoos before age 25)

2) They experience a paradigm shift (often social, cultural, political, or artistic) that causes them to feel negatively about the tattoos they got in the past, and they subsequently have a negative relationship with them. Often, these people will start wearing clothing that covers the tattoos before they really confront the fact that they don't like them any more. It's a very hard thing to admit to yourself.

I can see how this particular tattoo doubly qualifies on all accounts.

I'm relieved that I didn't get all the tattoos that I wanted when I was in my late teens and early twenties. Like, fr, thank god I was poor and thought I'd go to hell, because all my tattoo ideas at that time in my life were exactly the kind of stuff I would have regretted later.

So, if you really want the scars, and you're feeling even more convinced than ever to do it because you're annoyed by how passionately some people argue against it and you want to prove that you can do what you want with your body, and that the meaning is immutable to you and can't possible change, keep in mind that regretting tattoos is very common, changing your mind is very common, and growing the hell up is inevitable.

Even the most innocuous tattoos with absolutely no broader implications might make you feel negatively about your own body one day, and no one wants that. That definitely wouldn't be the legacy that you want to attach to this tattoo.

There's a big difference between trying to control someone's behavior and trying to just be real with them about the increased likelihood that they will be unhappy with the tattoo at some point down the line. Like maybe after they make some black friends.

It might sound like I'm being flippant, but I am actually dead serious. With how many people are getting that tattoo right now, it's basically inevitable that some of them will one day learn or experience enough to completely change their opinion on this exact debate and then feel all kinds of gross about the tattoo.

And, to reiterate, I don't think that's as good an argument as just not doing it because you listened to black fans about how it made them feel and empathized. That should be enough.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 astarion #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion tattoo

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bhaalbabebardlock · 8 months ago

Text

Writing Masterpost

I have a lot of ~feelings~ about having to shift my pinned post from my long fic after almost three months. I'm shocked that I've started writing other things, but here we are. 🫣✨

The OCs of My Stories

~If it isn't a one shot, it has its own masterpost in addition to being listed here~

Daisies | Jabberwock Skull

Nature's Gifts | Hand That Feeds

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Messages | AO3

Writer's Discord | Dead Dove Discord

All BG3 related writing, summaries, and links below the cut!

Longfics

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Daisies On My Nightstand (AO3)

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(I stopped regularly updating chapters here since the fic has gotten so long, but there's background information/pictures of Ilara and some chapters were posted here originally!)

This is my longfic! It is so long. It is my baby. It is now longer than return of the king somehow. It has too many tropes, it has a slow burn romance, it has dark romance. There is Raphael and Gortash and Astarion and Shadowheart and. A lot. I mean a lot. I update chapters daily on a semi regular/consistent schedule. Please please be mindful of tags and chapter notes!

Summary:

The story of a Bhaal-Spawn who only ever wanted to be free.

Ilara would do anything for the people she loves, having never been freely allowed to do so before- including killing her past, denouncing her God, and damning 7,000 souls. Can she save herself, let alone anyone else?

--story has finished first half, see below for second half--

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The Wasteland Crown (AO3)

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Ilara started out wanting her own freedom, and continuously sacrificed it to save the people she cares for- somehow always fumbling everything in the process.

Was it worth it?

Can she save any of them still?

Can she even save herself?

-- the second and final half of the story about a Bhaal-spawn who is only trying to figure out what freedom, choices, power, and love even mean.--

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Nature's Gifts on AO3

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Self indulgent filthy smut that was supposed to be a one shot and now isn't. Tadpole smut and something going on with both Astarion and Gale and the weird little druid they're hanging out with. 😌

Unlike my other long fic, this is unlikely to be updated DAILY but will be updated often.

Major tags (others on AO3): m/f, m/f/m, inappropriate use of tadpoles, smut that grew feelings and plot

Summary:

If you're all stuck with these tadpoles anyway, is there really any harm in seeing what they can do?

She let her mind wander, finding herself aggravated more than anything when those thoughts turned to Astarion, to the way his lips had brushed against her ear. She let out an agitated breath as she thought of how he felt laying on top of her, his mouth against her pulse a few nights ago. The way she felt him trying to still his hips against hers, it was just a taste after all. It was just one bite. It's not like any clothes came off. And it certainly hasn't happened again.

But what if it did?

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Tandem on AO3

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A series of one shots told in no specific order about my evil durge, Lili(th) and her sole companion, Astarion. Some will be fluff, some will be smut, some will just be unhinged probably. This won't update often but they'll be around 💕

Major tags (more to be added): blood drinking, canon typical violence, eventually there will be more.

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The Hand That Feeds

Summary: After throwing the Karsus Crown into the Chionthar at the risk of losing her sanity, Lili has only Astarion to keep her grounded. Until she's kidnapped by someone that she held hands with, once, months ago.

Important tags: toxic Gale, creepy/yandere gale, god!Gale, asc!astarion, kidnapping, non-con, forced love

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Slithering from Eden

Summary: A reader insert Stardew crossover featuring the dark urge and AA.

Important tags: canon typical violence, excessive gore, vampires, major character death

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The Jabberwock Skull

Summary: a post canon AU Alice in Wonderland horror story featuring Lili as she stumbles her way through an increasingly odd and horrific time. Second person POV.

Important tags: dead dove: do not eat, memory loss, extreme descriptions of violence, body horror

AO3 Link | Masterpost

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✨One Shots✨ (all nsfw)

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Ruin

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Full story on AO3

One shot, single chapter; 3,859 Words. Reader x Astarion;

Important tags: major character death warning, sad smut, explicit, F/M

Summary:

Five years after walking away from The Vampire Ascendant and everything he offered to you, you've returned to stop him from wreaking havoc on Baldur's Gate. That turns out to be harder than you think.

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The End

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Full Story on AO3

One shot, single chapter; 3,118 words

Tags: major character death warning, smut, F/F

Summary:

Second person Shadowheart POV.

After taking her place as Bhaal's chosen, your lover decided at the last moment to destroy the crown and give up her claim. You have one last night together.

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Weakness

One shot (so far, I might add more eventually); 1,286 words. Was done for a prompt, the prompt is revealed at the end.

Summary:

Astarion POV, first person.

Tav has come to find you in Baldur's Gate after disappearing years ago. Why?

"That would be showing a weakness, a vulnerability that I can longer afford. If it was ever something I could have afforded to begin with. Arguably, it hadn't been. She wormed her way between the cracks of my defenses, not even realizing what she was doing until it was too late. Until I was too far gone to stop her. "

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Underdark Fever

Summary: there is no plot here, only pollen smut. NSFW! Lili and Aatarion come across some interesting mushrooms in the underdark.

#fanfic #bg3 fanfic #masterpost #fanfic masterpost #my writing #bg3 fic #astarion smut #durgetash #gortash #astarion #bg3 #bg3 smut #bg3 longfic #baldurs gate fic #baldurs gate 3

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invinciblerodent · 1 year ago

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... so does anyone have any clue on how undeath is supposed to affect elven souls?

Because I have been building my own elf character, and thinking about this a lot, and it's a thought that just will not leave me (hard not to think about this with an Astarion romance), so it's time for another one of my navel-gazey thinkpieces i guess lol.

Like, my main source is Mordekainen's Tome of Foes, and that book states clearly that elven souls are immortal. Their numbers are more or less fixed, or rather "capped" (that's why they haven't "outbred" every other race even with their long lifespans), and each elf currently living is the reincarnation of an elven soul that's already been to Arvandor (their afterlife) at some point, and then returned in a new body. That's why they have such few children: because a birth is as much a joy as it is a sorrow. It's both the arrival of a new life, and the death of another- either decades, centuries, millenia past, or as soon as barely a few months ago.

As a quick and dirty run-down for those who don't really want to wade into the lore (I don't blame you, it's murky in there), early in their lives and when they are nearing death are the times when elves are most intimately connected to their previous lives, and in their sleep-trance (their "Reverie"), these individuals can call upon memories of those past lives. The young elves relive exclusively the experiences and adventures of their immortal soul until their second or third decade- then, slowly, those memories become interspersed with those from their current life (the First Reflection, the first time that happens, marks the start of their "adolescence" of the mind essentially- they are physically fully mature by then), until roughly the end of their first century, which is when their access to these primal memories is cut off. From that point forward, the elf loses access to their previous lives. This is called the Drawing of the Veil, and from that point forward, the elf may only relive events from their current life in their trance, right until they start nearing the end of their natural lifespans some 600 years later.

This is all fairly clear in the case of a living elf.

But what happens if that immortal elven soul, that's so intimately interconnected with the afterlife and the very passage of time, finds itself suddenly housed in an undead, unaging, immortal body? How does that change things?

It's got to change things, no?

Like this is such a specific thing, I don't believe specifically elven intelligent undead (that is also a protagonist about whose soul we are supposed to care) has been written about super extensively in the sourcebooks, but my guess personally is that the moment of undeath, it... severs the bond of the soul to Arvandor. This is not unrealistic, as that bond can break for many reasons: Drow for one are never invited back and die true deaths with no way to be reincarnated, and so do elves who have turned to gods outside of the Seldarine. (.... that also means that, with the drow's propensity for casual murder, the number of elven souls available for rebirth is in a constant and steep decline, but that's a whole other thing.) (I've no clue what this means for the Seldarine drow. I wanna say that they can gain admission back, but that's just me being an optimist, I've no recollection of a source literally confirming or denying that.)

This loss of the primal memories, it's said to be a traumatic experience in itself, even if it comes naturally, as just part of the elven life cycle, and it coming on the heels of such a profound upheaval of one's life (such as being turned into a vampire), it may just be the least of the person's worries... but it would explain some things in a way that goes beyond the traumatic experiences of Astarion's current life.

If that moment of being cut off were to happen before the elf would naturally lose their ability to access primal memories, I assume that they would... be forced to more or less "grow up" (at the lack of a better term) in an instant. And to be denied roughly half the time you would have otherwise had for regaining experiences and memories from your past lives, it's got to leave one a bit... emotionally stunted, when compared to a living elf of a similar age, who had time to go through their natural life cycle as one should.

(Which, it's not a huge reveal that I believe our guy to be emotionally immature, and a bit stunted in his emotional growth. That's, like, clear, and I don't mean to say anything to the effect of "ooooh, he was so youuuung, still an uwu baaaaby---" no, we're unequivocally talking about a fully grown, adult man lol, but specifically in the case of how this all relates to this weird trait of elves, it's still interesting to think about this odd dissonance that... may very well exist between a living- and an undead elf.)

Hell, my personal little theory is that elven intelligent undead (like vampires, who do retain a soul within their bodies) specifically, while they do go into a trance and have dreams/nightmares/memories of their current lives, may just even lose the ability to recall events from their pre-undeath life (beyond conventional memory, meaning that they can't strengthen those memories and are bound to eventually forget them) as well, as evidenced by Astarion not remembering his own face, or what color his eyes were once. (You can't tell me that while he was alive, he didn't spend a shitton of time looking at his own face. If he could relive pre-undeath memories, he'd know these things, or would be able to recall them if he wished.)

There would be something... strangely tragic, in this kind of isolation, for an elf. By becoming a vampire, you'd become undead first, and an elf.... somewhere way, way, way down the line.

As a fairly young undead elf, you're somehow simultaneously ancient, adolescent, and middle-aged, and also pretty much confined to a singular existence of nothing but pain and abuse, with memories of a distant childhood slowly fading just out of reach, knowing that... this, this is just your soul's lot now. That a significant part of your fey heritage, your very ancestry as well as part of your immutable essence, has been torn from you in just one moment, in exchange for preserving this current life, as a simulacrum of itself. And now there is no next life, because this one is one without a natural end, and Sehanine Moonbow will now never invite your immortal soul back to Arvandor to be reborn, because it's been cut off from you, and your very body is holding you hostage. Six, sixteen, or sixty centuries can come to pass, and still nothing is going to change... unless you die, in which case you're just dead, like any non-elven creature.

Anyway, there's no real point to this, or a conclusion to be drawn, beyond just... fuck, man, they couldn't have made this fucker more of a tragic figure if they tried.

(...... Fun fact, Silvanus is not part of the Seldarine. So unless he maybe turns to worship Rillifane Rallathil instead, Halsin's soul would not be reincarnated either. But he seems to have made that decision himself and he seems content, so I'm guessing he's just cool with it.)

(I'm not fucking touching half-elves now, you can't make me, that's such a fucking can of worms oh my god)

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #to think that i was just searching for elvish pet names when i fell down this rabbithole huh #squirrel plays bg3 #(yeeesh i did find one I like)#(c'mon now; it's their shared native language; he just hasn't used it in a long time- of course she's gonna make use of that)#(especially since she herself only ever had the chance to speak it with her father too)#(let me tell you; the dictionaries I've found are LIGHT on words of affection)#(it's almost as if DnD is not a dating sim?????? weird)#(edited only to fix a word repetition btw)

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dalgursbate · 3 months ago

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sup, i'm molly or SheOfBadIdeas on ao3, and i write. a lot. of bg3 fic because i am Unwell. I focus primarily on F/F and M/F starring the bitchy goth companions and the moon lesbians, but there's a couple of other fics in there too.

all of my fic under the read more <3

Shadowheart/Aylin/Isobel And Strive to Taste of All Things Holy

part one, Dame Aylin's Home for Wayward Girls (complete, 12/12, E, 27k words) - Isobel POV (primarily) on a Shadowheart origin, as she and Aylin grow closer to the not-quite-Sharran and help her unpack her trauma. H/C, with plenty of fluff and a bit of smut. Isobel knows a thing or two about complicated pasts. After all, she was dead for a hundred years, and has only recently awoken to a world that looks so little like the one she left behind. Not that the realm was ever peaceful, mind, but the shadow curse has distorted all that was once familiar to her, made it into something bulging and hideous and wrong like one of those mirrors at the Circus of the Last Days. ⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹

part two, Hymnals, Major and Minor (ongoing, 1/3, E, 3k words) - Shadowheart POV post-canon fluff and smut fic where Aylin and Isobel decide to romance Shadowheart properly in the wake of their return to normalcy.

“We want to date you,” Isobel tells Shadowheart about a month after the fall of the Netherbrain. Aylin solemnly nods her agreement.

Shadowheart shoots them both a funny look. “That’s good,” she says, bemused. “Seeing as how we’re already together.”

“No, my love,” Aylin corrects her. “We wish to court you.” ⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹ part three, After the Equinox (complete, 1/1, G, 2k words) - Shadowheart POV post-canon dealing with the emotional fallout from being the savior of Baldur's Gate. H/C, angst. Snapshots of a hero's life after the apocalypse. Shadowheart saved the world. She just isn't sure that's enough. ⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹ Shadowheart/Astarion of street names & subway wall prophecies (ongoing, 10/?, E, 50k words) - Shadowheart POV, a (very loose) Buffy crossover fic set in 2001 NYC where she is the Slayer and Astarion is still Cazador's spawn. There is no need to have watched Buffy or even know anything about it, as it's really only tangentially related aside from a few easter eggs. This is a fic about the two of them pushing against the confines of their oppressive fates at any cost, about the million ways they try to outrun the inevitable. Background Isobel/Aylin.

Shadowheart doesn’t get a lot of texts, generally. But she’s sure been getting them lately—we should catch ups and you good?s and, in her boss’s case, If you don’t show up to your Tuesday shift, you can forget about coming backs.

They all have a subtle undertone of where have you been?

It’s a fair question, if she’s honest. She just isn’t really sure how to answer.

⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹ let me be your friend(ly fire) (complete, 1/1, E, 13k words) - Shadowheart POV. Astarion and Shadowheart are hater4hater as they slowly grow to understand each other better through their mutual attraction to Tav. Centered around their mutual enjoyment of the Abdirak scene. Tadpole use during sex. also, the fic that started me on my journey of Astarion fixation and general ratdom.

If she’s honest, Shadowheart has never much cared for Astarion, even before his grand vampiric debut. And she’s pretty confident he returns the sentiment.

He’s not exactly made the best impression so far, has he, what with pulling a knife on Tav and then assaulting her in the middle of the night. Doesn’t help that he’s a bit of a pompous twat, either. ⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹

Astarion/Tav

in the land where no gods answer (ongoing, 1/?, T for now, 1.5k words) - The Nautiloid crashes in Avernus, instead of the Sword Coast. The party, led by a nonverbal tiefling druid named Faun, has to fight their way out of the Hells if they have any hope of saving themselves--and the world. Faun awakens to a sky on fire. ⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹ take a bite out of me for dinner first (complete, 1/1, E, 2.6k words) - Tav doesn't let Astarion bite her, so he masters the art of the hard sell. Eyefucking and transactional sex.

The first time it happens, Tav almost convinces herself she’s hallucinating it.

It’s the kind of thing that would make her sound paranoid if she said it out loud, that Astarion looks at her funny when he feeds on Flind. Because it’s not like he’s staring at her; their eye contact only lasts a moment. She can’t even really put her finger on what makes it so weird, except that there’s a kind of intensity to the way his gaze meets her own.

⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹

Astarion/The Dark Urge

drunk on the taste (of my blood in your mouth) (complete, 1/1, E, 3.5k words) - Moxie doesn't mind Astarion feeding from her. She just wishes he'd be a little messier about it. Bloodplay fic.

The second problem, if it can even really be called that, is that Astarion doesn’t get enough of her blood on his mouth when he feeds. It’s understandable, Moxie thinks, because he wants to consume as much of it as possible. And if it ends up on skin or the ground then he can’t drink it as easily. But she would like it a lot more if he could be covered in it, drenched in it, if there were puddles of it that he could step in and then leave bloody footprints all over camp with. ⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹

burn the earth & salt the ashes (complete, 1/1, E, 2.9k words) - Ascended!Astarion and Redeemed!Durge reckoning with their choices and the consequences to their relationship. Also, cock worship.

He might not be the man she used to love anymore, but he is still the man that she loves. So Mint stays. ⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹ Shadowheart/Lae'zel to forgive is human and failure is divine (ongoing, 2/?, E, 9.7k words) - Magical realism/Modern Faerûn AU where Shadowheart is a divinity school dropout and Lae'zel is the asshole she can't help getting into bar fights with. Girlfailures in love. Every time she prods at the tender flesh, that same odd feeling from last night returns. Like her guts are all twisted up inside, as though they might just crawl up her throat and out of her mouth at any moment. Her stomach, too, is not quite so hollow as it was before. Or, rather, now she finally has the appetite to fill it, the desire to gorge herself until she is rid of this persistent hunger. It makes her feel a little like she swallowed a tapeworm. ⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹ i'll be your slaughterhouse, your killing floor (complete, 1/1, M, 1k words) - a short, but intense, rumination on their relationship But like usual, Shadowheart comes to find there is no bottom waiting for her. There is no limit to her ability to fall. Lae’zel is a sunk cost and Shadowheart is an expert at finding new ways to keep losing. ⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹ i wanna tear you apart (complete, 1/1, E, 3.5k words) - The VERY FIRST fic I wrote for this fandom, and the first fic I'd written in 4 years. And now I've written 150k of Baldur's Gate fic. Crazypants. Essentially, this is what might have happened if Tav hadn't interrupted Shadowheart and Lae'zel's fight. Knifeplay and bloodplay.

Shadowheart doesn't know why she wakes her up. ⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹

Raphael/Tav

make a mess, lioness (Raphael/Tav, ongoing, 5/?, E, 16.5k words) - A progressively escalating game of sex chicken between a hero and the devil who is obsessed with her.

Raphael knows how to wait.

⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹

sick as a god (Raphael/Tav, ongoing, 1/?, T, 1.7k words) - a cleric Tav who came back wrong and a devil walk into a bar, and the bartender wonders why the Tav has no soul.

The last thing Gracia remembers is dying.

⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹

Misc. other pairings

esmeltar red supernova (Karlach/Shadowheart/Lae'zel, complete, 1/1, E, 1.7k words) - The female companions lamenting about Tav being interested in someone else at the tiefling party leads to a voyeuristic threesome.

It’s been surprisingly enjoyable, this tiefling party.

Though, in fairness, Karlach’s expectations had been pretty damn low. Ever since she saw the way Tav looked at Astarion, she knew she wasn’t going to be the bard’s first choice for company, this night or any other. She can’t really say she blames the dwarf; it’s hard, to commit to a lover you can’t even touch.

⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹

cat scratch fever strut (Gale/Tav, complete, 1/1, E, 2.1k words) - Gale gets used to the idea of Haarlep using Tav's form.

The first time he sees it happen is almost immediately after leaving the House of Hope. Tav is walking in her usual stride until her step stutters, and the tiniest gasp escapes from her lips. To anyone who doesn’t know her the way Gale does, he is sure it just looks as though she is startled by her small stumble. But Gale knows better, can see the way the dusky brown of her skin darkens and grows rosy with the blood rising to her neck.

⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹

five times tav takes a load in the face (and one time she takes a load everywhere) (Tav/pretty much everyone at some point, ongoing, 1/6, E, 1.9k words) - What it says on the tin, really. Crack treated seriously with a Tav who uses sex as a form of affection to comfort her friends. Currently only the Gale chapter is up.

Tav lets Gale “teach” her how to channel the Weave, never mind that she’s a bard and never mind that he already knows that. She figures the least she can do for him is let him monologue; she sees the thin wire of tension that’s been pulling tight between his shoulder blades of late, and she assumes it’s from him worrying about the orb. Tav knows he’s afraid of the apparent change happening within it, knows Gale is wondering if he’s finally at the end of the line and bound to detonate at any moment.

⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹⋆.˚⋆₊ ⊹ you've got a fast car (that you're trying to sell me) (Gortash/Tav technically, complete, 1/1, T, 4.5k words) - Honestly, this is a fic I wrote starring my friend leetleblue's Tav Kira that I wrote without telling her as a sort of affectionate power move to make fun of her attraction to Gortash. Don't read it if you like him sincerely probably lol, but it's maybe the funniest thing I've ever written

He takes her to a tiny dive bar called Slippery Chip’s Horse Hole, which Kira has never heard of before and which she doesn’t really like the vibe of. Everyone here looks mean, and there are a couple of dart boards on one back wall that are situated so close to a pool table it has to be a safety hazard.

“It’s the best place for betting on horses in the entire city,” Enver tells her as they sit down at an unsettlingly sticky table. “They take bets over the legal limit off the books. Very discreet.”

#bg3 #my fic #astarion #shadowheart #isobel thorm

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thebawdybaldurian · 10 months ago

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More Ice Storm Drabbles

As usual, this will eventually get made into post-game chapters of Tale of the Tadpoles. :)

Context: Tav and SpawnAstarion are married and live in Tav’s artist cottage in Baldur’s Gate. Halsin is a reoccurring third in their relationship, he sees them whenever and for however long he can stand to be in the city. They have acquired a pair of magical rings called The Sunlovers’ Bond that allow Astarion time in the sun, as long as Tav stays in the shadows, transfusing his sun allergy to her. Each silver band has a gem, one black, one gold, and had a small pin that punctures the skin, allowing the blood bond spell to work. Tav and Astarion have planned to be child-free due to their past/childhoods. Elven births are uncommon in Faerun.

Content Warning: Mention of menstrual blood drinking, and, and oral sex. Mention of abortion. Vomiting. Oral sex. Rough sex. Light choking.

Astarion climbed up the ladder to the loft, finding Tav dozing in her reading chair by the fire. He didn’t want to disturb her, so looked for something to do until she awoke. He glanced over at her desk with a sigh. Her usual chaos had increased exponentially due to the deadline of her latest book. There were dishes with dried crusts of bread, loose sheets of papers, empty ink pots, a few encyclopedias, among so much else that had collected in the last month. He began to straighten it, the noise of his work waking her from her light trance. “Hmmm, hi,” she said sleepily, wiping a bit of drool from her mouth. “Is it late afternoon already?” He typically finished his work at the atelier by then.

“It is, love,” he smiled at her, wondering if she was feeling well. She didn’t normally sleep during the day, unless she was on one of her writing binges where she would be up for three days and then sleep another two. He tried his best to prevent this, but she was stubborn as ever. “Darling, you might as well set this desk on fire instead of trying to organize it. I don’t know how I let it get this bad,” he smirked at her.

“Because every time you would come to bother me about, I’d give you a blow job instead.”

“That doesn’t sound right,” he laughed, remembering a few of them. She was as skilled with her mouth as she was with her mind. “They’d have to be spectacular blow jobs for me to allow this.”

“They always are,” she grinned.

He flipped through the calendars on her desk, just doubling checking that everything had been checked off. Her concept of time was terrible, as well as her task management. The calendars helped keep things a little more focused for her. That is, unless she’d written and been using the same month twice, each with only certain goals checked off. Had she not noticed she was using two? His one appointment on her calendar was “moon blood break” with little fangs drawn underneath. This was the day she would skip her monthly tincture to prevent it and let him taste her for the few days it lasted.

It was checked off, as if she’d skipped her tincture, but it was well past the middle of the month and she hadn’t began her bleeding.

She’d gotten up from her chair by then and sauntered over to him. “So anal and you’ll forgot about all this?” She grinned devilishly at him.

“Not a chance,” he grabbed her ass. “So, tell me, love, did you know you had two of the same month, that you appear to have been using interchangeably? I have no idea if half of this stuff is even done.”

“I wouldn’t have checked it off if I hadn’t finished the task, so unless there’s some big mix up, it should all be done, regardless of which calendar I checked it off of.”

“Okay, so see here,” he pointed to one date and flipped the page to the second calendar. Both dates said ‘moon blood’ and either ‘break’ or ‘re-make’ underneath. “Did you make a new batch or skip your last one?”

“Uhhh, well, it’s the 18th right? I must’ve remade the new batch and taken one or else I would’ve started my courses by now,” she flipped the calendar to the current month.

“Look up there though?” He pointed to the little shelf above her desk where she kept various tinctures and potions for easy access. “You have one left. You should have two if you remade and took one.”

“Or none if I’d skipped one this month,” she trailed off, feeling a sudden panic in her stomach. She had the vaguest recollection that she’d intended to take her last tincture, checking it off the calendar, when Halsin had surprised them with a visit. They spent the first full day in bed together, just fucking slowly, eating, and pampering each other. The second, they’d done that half a day, then gone to dinner with Wyll and stayed out until almost dawn. They’d slept in the next day and then did their usual routine for the week Halsin was there. She’d gotten some really beautiful figure modeling sessions out of them, contemplating putting out an art book of erotic illustrations and drawings.

“Tav!” Astarion brought her mind back to the present. “Are you feeling alright dear? You’ve slept a lot the past week and have been unusually head cloudy. You didn’t mix up a tincture or been to any less than hygienic taverns for a sausage roll?”

“No, I don’t think so, but a sausage roll sounds amazing…I…I think,” she paused, closing her eyes and trying to sense within her body. “I think I might be pregnant.”

“What?” He looked at her in shock, though everything immediately made sense. She was hornier than usual, hence the copious amounts of blowjobs, then she had been sleepy and horny. Her honey began to taste a little different and her strange snacking had begun. He couldn’t walk five feet without seeing something she’d left out to nibble on. Crackers, dried fruits, stable sausage, chocolates and other sweets. The past few days had been all sausage. Sausage rolls, sausage for breakfast, smoked sausage with taters, charcuterie boards. She was a trained chef who rarely cooked, but she’d been in and out of the kitchen suddenly. He’d just thought she was decompressing after her deadline.

“Halsin…arrived on the day I was supposed to take my last one, I must’ve gotten distracted right between checking it off and taking it.”

He released the grip on her ass and moved a hand to her belly. “Do you really think so?”

“There is one way to check for sure.” She knew the recipe for the tincture by heart.

It was one of her best sellers when she’d had her potion business. She’d also had to use one herself once before. She was mid-breakdown, after being stalked by an obsessive sorcerer who had ended his life in front of her. She had just joined the cloister of Sune, but still hadn’t learned to love and respect her body behind sex. She had no idea who the father could be and she never wanted to have a child period, let alone under such circumstances. She thought her parents would steal away their new heir if they ever found out about her having a child. Then they’d finally have their sorcerer progeny to carry on their legacy.

She had been sick for days, both from her shifting body and the thought of someone else being subjected to her narcissistic parents. She’d taken a different tincture, spent a day in bed in agony, and come out the other side, ready to re-learn how to be a person. Some other lucky mother would birth that soul into its next life. Someone who could properly care for it.

Tav turned away from him, beginning to feel the slightest bit of nausea. “I’ll just go over to the apothecary shop and grab something,” she headed towards the ladder that led out of the loft.

“I can go, if you like,” he said anxiously. “You can stay and rest and I can take the ring and go out.”

“No, they’ll just try to sell you some other shit with it. ‘Don’t send a man in to buy women’s potions’ was a saying among the herbalists around town.”

“Are you sure? You’ve been more easily distracted these past few days as well. You might go out and come back with everything but.”

“I’m sure,” she grinned widely, him knowing her moods so intricately now. Their relationship was built around her chaos and his need for a little control. It was a benefit to both of them, as his control was never at the benefit of only himself. He helped her stay a little more efficient and organized and only occasionally tied her up on her knees when they were feeling a little extra kinky.

She blew him a little kiss and climbed down the ladder, grabbing her cloak off its hook. It was not particularly cool outside, but her body temperature had also been all over the place. The test would just be total confirmation, she was almost sure of it now that she thought about all her symptoms.

Astarion climbed down the ladder as well, kissing her goodbye before she went out the door. He immediately began trying to calculate how long it would take her. Fifteen minutes to the shop, but adding five if she lingered to browse windows, her attention span either hyper-focused or non-existent. He hoped it would be the former. So likely half an hour give or take.

He looked around for anything he could do to pass the time, otherwise he was just going to pace. Her snacking had left quite a few unwashed dishes, so he decided to tackle that. They ate out quite a bit for dinner, her a large meal, and him a delectable drink from her thigh. Sometimes he couldn’t wait until they got home, pulling her into an alley, like a sinister fiend, pushing up her dress and drinking her right there. They’d usually fuck in the alley after, so it happened quite often.

He wondered for a moment as he scrubbed a pan, if there was any possibility it could be his child. He came inside her often enough to produce a whole brood, if not for their lower elven pregnancy rates, and his seedless spawn theory was just that. He had no idea if it was fully accurate or just even more rare for an elven vampire spawn to achieve. He would abide by whatever Tav wanted, as the possibility of children had never really been in his mind. He didn’t hate them and liked the tiefling orphans’ particular brand of scamming, but he never pictured himself as a father.

He finished the dishes, wondering how long it had been, starting to pace and straighten the blankets on the back of the couches before she returned. She had a cloth sack in one hand and a sausage roll in the other. “Do we even need the test?” He grinned at her.

“Shut up and hold this,” she pouted at him, handing the sausage roll to him and pouring the contents of the sack out on the kitchen table. There was a single tincture bottle and several sachets of loose ingredients.

“I thought you wouldn’t be sold extra unnecessary stuff,” he playfully licked the end of her sausage roll. He was surprised it actually had an appealing taste to it. “What this?” he asked.

“Oh, a blood sausage roll. Despite my appetite, I wasn’t planning to stop for anything and come straight back, but I smelled the blood and just had to have it. Gods, maybe this is your baby,” she joked, as Astarion had previously told her spawn couldn’t impregnate anyone. “This is just some extra ingredients to make my own testing potion. I didn’t much like the seller’s formulation.”

“Are you going to finish this?” His eyes widened at the mention of her blood craving.

“Eventually,” she looked over at him. “Don’t throw it away, I just have to try to piss in this bottle.”

“I wasn’t going to throw it away, I was going to eat it. It actually taste okay,” he added as she turned towards the hall.

“Really? I thought all food tasted terrible to you? You can have it if you want,” she blushed a little. “I finished the first one before I got home.”

He waited anxiously, gnawing on the sausage roll and straightening some more things in the kitchen. How long had it been? How long did it take? He eventually walked down the hall, hearing quiet sobs coming from the bathroom. She sat on the edge of the tub crying, the tincture bottle now glowing slightly. The glow of life, some people called it. He sat down next to her, hugging her tightly. “My love. It’s going to be alright,” he said softly to her.

“This is supposed to be a miracle, a rare thing that deserving people get,” she cried. “But I can’t do it. I…”

“It’s alright,” his throat tightened. “We don’t have to make a decision right away. We have a little time.”

“Halsin,” she sniffled. “He deserves to have a child of his own.”

“We should talk to him first,” he held her tighter, knowing the Druid would also go along with whatever she decided.

“One of his birds, the ones at the Elturel Enclave, will get to him the fastest,” she nestled against him.

“How about we stop by there at dusk and then have dinner? Four courses.”

“Okay,” she let out a long sigh. “But could we try to find seven courses? The firsts are so small.”

“Seven courses and an extra dessert,” he pulled her chin up to kiss her gently. “I love you, my nightingale, my little angel,” he spoke to her in elvish. They tended to use their native tongue only in their most intimate moments.

“I love you too,” she pressed her forward against his.

He helped her up from the tub, feeling suddenly a little nauseous from his unexpected meal. He couldn’t really digest solids, yet had swallowed the entire sausage and roll, the craving too powerful to deny. “Love, I think I am going to be sick,” he made a face, gently pushing her towards the doorway. She managed to get out the door before he vomited the contents of his stomach back out, tasting much less pleasant the opposite way. The sound was enough to make her sick as well.

“Move, move, move,” she hurried back into the bathroom, gently pushing him aside from the toilet. He grabbed her hair out of her face and turned away as she retched. “Ugh,” she sighed when she was done. “I suppose I don’t need to make a second testing potion. I had morning sickness the first time.”

“First time?” He rubbed her back gently.

“Oh, I uh…I become pregnant when I was very young. Shortly after everything with Quinn happened,” she sighed. She hadn’t ever told Astarion about this. “Pretty fucked up that the Gods chose me twice to be a mother and I haven’t wanted it either time.”

“The Gods are idiots,” he helped her to the sink so they could both rinse their mouths out. “How about you sit on the couch with your feet up and I can fix your hair for tonight?”

“Okay,” she watched as her hair moved in the mirror, touched by his invisible hand.

They walked to the living room together and Tav sat on the chaise with her feet up. Astarion stood behind her and finger combed through her hair before beginning to braid it. Now that they were traveling less, she’d let it grow long, much to his delight. He finished with her hair and moved his hands down to her shoulders, giving her a massage. “Mmmm thank you, my love,” she sighed and relaxed a little more.

“Of course, darling,” he smiled and leaned over to kiss her forehead. “You know,” he began, the thought still gnawing at his mind. “I’m not completely sure vampire spawn are infertile. I was never told either way. I just figured after 200 years of…well…since I never to managed to…it must be impossible for a spawn.”

“Really?” She leaned her head back to look in his eyes. “Does that change your mind about things?”

“No,” he looked down at her, letting his fingers wander up to her face. “I will respect your wishes, either way.”

“You aren’t leaning in either direction though?”

“I can’t imagine either of us with a baby, to be honest,” he gently rubbed her ears. “But Halsin…”

“I know,” she sighed and closed her eyes. “He’s so wonderful with children…and the rest of his family is gone.”

“Would you…have it…for him?”

“I…I don’t know. Maybe. If he wanted to raise it.”

He joined her on the chaise, resting her feet in his lap so he could massage them as well. They talked things over, decided that they would wait to speak with Halsin before anything was set in stone. At dusk they set out towards the Enclave, arm in arm. Astarion rarely went inside when they visited, but did this time. The palace was almost unrecognizable by now. The tieflings had torn out everything but the foundations, rebuilding it as a safe refuge. Tav went to the aviary to send a bird to Halsin while Astarion minded himself inside the home he formerly haunted.

Tav rejoined him and then they walked around the city looking for a place to eat. Tav had to settle for a six course meal, which she housed happily and they grabbed a pair of sweets from a confectionery after. They made out on the walk home, Tav eventually pulling him into someone’s side garden. “Aren’t you stuffed already, my love?” Astarion grinned, gripping her ass tightly.

“Always room for more,” she kissed him. “Do you want a drink before or after?”

“Before of course…well,” He paused. “Actually…is it safe for me to feed on you now?”

“Oh,” she stopped pulling up her skirts so he could access her thigh. “I don’t know. I can’t imagine it’s…shit.”

“It’s alright,” he smiled. “We have blood in the icebox at home.”

“Do you…just want to wait until we get home then?” She slid her hand up his thigh. He was still only half hard and they weren’t far from home.

“It might be a while before I get to fuck you in a public again,” he leaned against her a little more. She made a pleased noise in her throat, rubbing her hand against his cock to get it fully hard, as he began to kiss her neck. He soon knelt down, pushing up her skirt. “At least I can still taste this,” he grinned, pulling her underpants down. He took a generous lap of her as she moaned softly.

“Gods, I will never get tired of your tongue,” she trembled, gripping a handful of his curls.

“You taste even sweeter now, you know?” he looked up at her, licking his lips.

“Really?” She grinned.

“If Halsin gets a taste of you, we’ll have to pry his mouth away.”

“Or I could just stay in bed all day letting you take turns,” she gasped as he sucked on her clit. He tasted every inch of her, making her legs tremble. “Oh Gods. I need you to fuck me right now. Very, very hard.”

“I can do that,” he grinned, standing up.

“Like this,” she turned around, pushing her ass out a little, wanting it from behind. “And choke me…just a little.”

“Oh my,” he cooed, unbuttoning himself. “I’d ask what’s gotten into you, but I already know,” he whispered in her ear, rubbing his cock up and down her entrance, sliding her honey around it.

She braced herself on the stone wall, clawing her fingers into it as he pushed inside her. He knew she wanted it hard, but he still wanted to be a little gentle with her. He thrust slowly in her at first, speeding up when she began to make impatient moans.

“Mmmm, that’s right,” she purred as he fucked her a little harder. “I’m not completely fragile all of a sudden.”

“Bend over more, then,” he grinned, nipping the tip of her ear with his teeth. She bit her lip, pressing back against him, so she could, spreading her legs a little wider. He played with her hips more, testing the depth of his strokes as she made soft cries. “Are you going to be able to stay quiet enough, love?” He thrust into her hard. “If someone comes upon a vampire ravaging a pregnant woman, I’ll be dodging stakes left and right.”

“I’m working on it,” she bit down on a wad of her dress as a makeshift gag. “Now fuck me harder,” she demanded between her clench teeth.

He grinned and happily obeyed, thrusting harder into her, his balls slapping loudly against her thighs. He gripped the nape of her hair so he could pull her upright, lightly wrapping a hand around her throat, guiding her hips with the other. She continued to brace herself against the wall with one hand, the other on her clit, eager for climax.

He fucked her vigorously, choking her with a little less force than usual, overly cautious with her new condition. They came together in loud, satisfied grunts, quickly recovering themselves in case anyone got curious about the noise. He pocketed her underpants so they could make a quick getaway, cum dripping down her thighs as they made the short walk home. He undressed her when they arrived, washing her with a warm cloth before putting her to bed for the night. He found it hard to rest, however, his mind racing about their new predicament.

#astarion #astarion x tav #daddy astarion #bg3

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nsfwordwitch · 1 year ago

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Kinktober 2023 Day 21

Prompt: Lingerie Pairing: Astarion x nonbinary tiefling Tav 1688 Words

🔞Adults Only Blog🔞

“You like gifts, don't you, Astarion?”

“Oo, what have you gotten me this time?”

Weft hands him a long, flat, paper box, and he opens it eagerly. Inside, nestled in paper, are three articles of clothing, though, he thinks, one would hardly count as “dressed” if wearing them. A gauzy robe with velvet floral designs, a narrow corset in black and silver, and a spit of fabric he assumes is underwear, though it’s difficult to be sure.

“Oh, darling,” he says, “they’re gorgeous. How do you always know just the thing?”

Weft beams at him. “Are you going to try them on or what?”

“Trying them on, then or what.” He waggles his eyebrows at them as he hops to the next room, and they laugh.

The whole get-up fits him perfectly–of course. Weft knows his measurements as well as their own at this point. He looks down at himself, idly regretting his lack of reflection. He must look damn good. The panties have no seat at all, just three straps to hold the front in place, and the robe has a long slit up the back that ends above his tailbone. “How saucy,” he purrs to himself.

He returns to the boudoir, striking a pose against the doorway. “Well! It seems I’m not the only one who got a new outfit.”

Weft is also striking a pose, demurely holding their own ephemeral robe closed, entirely failing to conceal themself beneath it. “I wanted us to feel pretty all of a sudden, so I ordered these. That was four months ago, of course, but fortunately I”m still in a pretty mood. Do you like it?”

“Are you kidding? I feel like I’m floating.” He twirls over to them, enjoying the rise and fall of the delicate garment. “Like I’m the prettiest harlot at the orgy. And you! Why you're easily the second prettiest.”

Weft laughs. “I’m glad. And you’re having the effect on me I was hoping for.”

“Oh, that’s what I like to hear.” He slides a finger up the edge of his robe in the front, drawing it off his shoulder and just barely letting one nipple show. “Is this what you like, my sweet?”

Weft bites their lip, and reaches out to trace a line up his ear to its point and back to his cheek. He closes his eyes and leans into the touch. “You do look ravishing,” they murmur.

He opens his eyes and looks up at them through his eyelashes. “Then ravish me, darling.” Some emotion crosses Weft’s face and it gives him pause. “Is something the matter?”

“No, I...sorry, it’s stupid.”

“Tell me.”

“I was just thinking how…” they sigh, color rising in their cheeks. “How there was a time when this wouldn’t have been alright, when you didn’t want me to...look at you...the way I’m looking at you now.” He can tell there’s a hesitancy they still feel, a holdover from that time, now years past. He places his hand over theirs on his face. “Sorry. I’m just happy to see how far you've come.”

“Credit where it’s due, my darling. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

They smile. “Good for us.”

“Good for us! Now how about that ravishing?” He turns to show them the back of his underwear. “I assume that was what you had in mind when you bought me panties without an ass.”

“When I what? Oh no.” Weft is looking at him with a hand hiding their smile. “I’m so sorry, love, I think there's been a mixup.”

“What do you mean? You didn’t mean for me to have my whole backside hanging out?” He raises an eyebrow at them and smirks. “For easy access?”

“No, it’s for a tail!” They turn to show him theirs, and sure enough, the straps that he had found a little mysterious fit perfectly over their tail. “They must have taken my order wrong. Oh, your robe too! I’m sorry, darling, I’ll send them back and get you the right ones.”

“Excuse me! We will not be sending back a thing.... You are welcome to purchase me an additional set, however.” He reaches into their robe through the tail slit and pinches their ass cheek. They let out a yelp and slap at his hand, laughing. “Here I was, thinking you had an incredible sexy idea, and it was just a great sexy idea with an incredible accident.”

“You have a point.” Weft wraps their arms around his corseted waist and pulls their bodies together. Their cocks collide, nestled as they are in luxurious silk. He lets out a soft sound, and grinds his hips into theirs.

“Besides, darling,” he says, “I hope to leave these in a state that means they’re beyond sending back to the store.”

Weft kisses him. They draw their hands down his torso and cup his ass cheeks, extra perky as they are. He snakes his arms around their neck and jumps up. They catch him, like he knew they would, and carry him to their bed.

Astarion falls on his back on the bedspread and they climb on top of him. He traces a hand around one of their breasts hanging over him, drinking in his partner’s beauty. They slide his robe off his shoulder and kiss the spot left bare, trailing down to his nipple. He hums at the flick of their tongue and bucks his hips up into them. He strains to reach behind them and unbuckle their underwear. They make a noise against his chest as he leverages his feet to scoot the panties off of them.

“Ready to go?” they ask, rubbing their erection against him.

“Gods, just flip me over already! Ah!” Weft does as he suggests and he finds himself facedown. They plant more soft kisses on his neck as they summon a bottle of oil to their hand. He shivers when their slick fingers enter him. They lay their cheek on his back while they finger him, their skin separated from his old scars by the thin layer of gauze. He still can’t feel, in the lines where he was once mutilated, but the treatments he’s been using have softened the skin, and the uncut places can feel Weft’s touch more easily.

Weft sighs against him. “I could finger you forever, you know.”

“Mn, darling,” he says, head swimming with pleasure, “I would hardly complain if you did.”

“I don’t have to worry about finishing too soon, and I can go anywhere on your body.” He feels them shifting, moving down, and the absence of their warmth strikes him. He rises to his elbows so he can turn and see them where they’ve settled, between his legs.

They draw their tongue across one of his cheeks, making him shiver, and the hand that isn’t inside him gently rolls his balls through the silk that cups them. He moans and drops his head, still keeping one eye on them over his arm. They’re looking at him with something like wonder in their eyes, then flash him an embarrassed smile. “You look so good, my love.”

His chest tightens, and he smiles at them. “Is that my best angle?” They laugh, and press a kiss between his cheeks, above their fingers. They press harder on his balls, making him gasp in pleasure. “Oh, Weft,” he moans, “don’t stop, darling.”

“Mhmn.” They keep him suspended like that, moaning, toes curling, chest aching for them. Then he speaks, with a hint of a whine.

“Weft. You could finger me forever. But…” He pauses. “I do love to be–ah–filled by you.”

They hiss the word “Fuck.” He manages a throaty laugh. “You always know just what to say.”

“Please my love,” he says softly, “let me take you to the hilt. Ah–” Their hands slip away from him and then their body is hovering over him again. He watches them apply oil to their cock, twitching in anticipation, before they guide it inside him. “Gods,” he blurts out, “my darling, yes.”

They fall around him, their thighs touching his thighs, their breasts dropping against his back, their hands, one gripping his hip and the other by his elbow on the bed. Weft pants into his hair and a wave of pleasure radiates down his body from the feel of their warm breath on his scalp. “Fuck,” they hiss again, “my beloved beloved.”

“Yes,” he breathes, “you’re perfect. Weft, please. Ah–” They press in and out of him, making small high cries into his hair with each plunge in. “Yes, that’s it, please–” He doesn’t even know what he’s begging for. What more could they possibly give? Weft is inside him, filling him, their body surrounding him, swallowing him up. He is whole, complete, with them inside him. Astarion digs his face into the bed.

Weft’s cock hits the spot deep inside him that makes him see stars and he gasps. “That’s it,” he cries desperately, “that’s it, you’re right there don’t stop!” He moans, his voice getting louder and higher, until he comes, filling the silk surrounding his cock.

“Oh my love, oh beloved.” Weft wraps their arm tight across his stomach and slams into him four more times, then finishes, with their face against his neck. He reaches an arm up past his head and grasps at them, getting a fistful of their robe. They cling to his corseted torso, holding him close. “Astarion. My love.”

“Weft, my sweet.” He turns beneath them and they pull out of him as he rolls. His hands find their face, his thumbs caressing their cheekbones. “My beauty.” He pulls their face down for a kiss and they lay their body on him, their weight pressing him to the bed. He’s indescribably happy.

Weft breaks the kiss and lifts their hips off of his. “You were right, my love.”

“Mm?”

They reach between their bodies and draw a finger under the top edge of his underwear, damp from his spending. “These are not going back to the store.”

He barks a laugh. “You couldn't pry them from me, anyway.”

#r-18 #baldur's gate 3 #kinktober 2023 #oc weft #astarion #astarion baldur's gate 3

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