#astarion has issues

[atsadi-shenanigans]

FSBE 37 - Doing Her Best

The rogue tries to enjoy himself.

This one's directly on AO3 cause she's spicy.

[8eb]

just thinking about how gale, the most normal looking man alive, comes out of that portal and sees the three most obviously traumatized & evil-coded people to ever exist and is still like "can i join you" like bffr

[sadmages]

In my mind palace my tav and Astarion are playing the exact same game of 5D chess and they don't realize it yet

[my-fool]

I dont get people who write a Wyll that gets nervous and an Astarion who doesn't. Wyll gets tortured in front of the group and still doesn't miss a beat, aside from if you let his father die, I think there's only one or two lines where his dialogue strays from "affable/charming". Good luck trying to get through that shell, lol. Meanwhile Astarion has dozens of shrill, nervous, panicked dialogue lines. Astarion is a character who is influenced strongly by player choice and never goes it alone whereas Wyll leaves the camp if you fuck him around too much.

I feel like if you make Astarion cool and suave you are falling for the façade that is supposed to be deconstructed by the viewer and if you make Wyll fumbling, naïve and nervous you are forgetting that this man has been locked in a 24/7 one-on-one psycho-sexual mental battle with a billion-year-old demon from the 9th circle of Hell for the entirety of his adult life at this point, so. Jot that down.

[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

Overindulgent father Astarion who tells his children they’re allergic to any kind of jewellery that isn’t made of the highest grade Dwarven crafted gold. 

It’s not even because Astarion might have a certain aversion to silver, no, he just raises his children to have standards, thank you very much. 

And it doesn’t end with shiny things, oh no… 

The Ancunín brood is known to be dressed in perfectly woven cotton, silk and soft leather clothes, no matter the occasion.

They’re seen playing with expensive toys, reading artfully illustrated books that certainly belong behind thick glass, not in children’s sticky hands. 

There’s even talk that one of the children is not as naturally inclined to music as his parents claim him to be, surely his lyre must be enchanted—the instrument certainly looks extravagant enough! 

And then there’s always this air of effortless haughtiness surrounding the Ancunín children whenever their nannies and servants are parading them through town as if they were perfect little dolls; objects to show off the wealth their parents acquired in quite the mysterious ways. 

So, it’s no secret that Astarion and Tav are pampering their children—some might say they’re even spoiling them rotten. 

And maybe they are, especially Astarion.

But he doesn’t see why he should raise them any other way, nor does he want to.  

When it comes to his children, Astarion has his own standards, and as long as Tav agrees with him nothing really matters. 

Because, these people, they don’t know anything about the Ancuníns. 

They don’t know that it’s not unusual for Astarion to wash out dirt and mud and strawberry stains from comically small finery, leaving behind only the memories of a day spent playing in the garden, chasing after ducks, picking flowers, lazing in the sun…

That any holes and tears the children’s clothes might suffer are quickly mended, making them look as good as new in no time. 

Nor do they know that Astarion doesn’t mind fashioning a brand new dress to match that of a favourite doll, either. Or to embroider a pretty vest with the likeness of that stray cat the children seem to adore, although their father would rather they don’t touch the mangy animal. 

No, those people know nothing at all...

“Not tired!” Astarion’s youngest cries; the vehement denial of her father’s earlier accusation is cut short by a telltale yawn.

The room still smells of fragrant lavender oil and peaches even when the bath water has already grown tepid, just one or two degrees above what Astarion would consider too cold to be enjoyable. 

Amused, he raises an eyebrow at the protesting toddler before he lifts her out of the copper bathtub with little effort. 

By now, he knows every step of this game.

“Tut-tut, my dear child, what did mama and I say?” Astarion kneels, quickly wrapping a soft towel around the child to keep her warm. “We only tell lies outside of this house.”

Unfazed by her father’s gentle scolding, the girl crosses her arms that haven’t yet lost their puppy fat across her chest, reminding Astarion a little too much of a very displeased Tav. 

Suppressing a sigh, he leans back to consider the pouting child, wondering what could possibly be upsetting her this time—the list is growing longer by the day, after all. 

“What’s the matter, dear?” Astarion asks gently, hoping it’s something easily fixable as it’s growing rather late. 

“Want apple!��

Decades ago, Astarion might’ve rolled his eyes—he knows exactly which stupid apple the child wants, it’s been haunting him all day—but once he started to treat his children’s problems as if they were his own, his life has grown somewhat easier. 

“Why, let’s get an apple on our way to bed, then. Would that be alright, Your Highness?” 

The girl promptly nods her head, allowing Astarion to pat her hair dry before dressing her in a clean night dress. 

She rests her cheek against her father’s shoulder as he carries her first to the kitchen to grab a fragrant apple and a knife, then to her bedroom where they settle on the cosy window seat, just like they do every night.

Soft moonlight is pouring through the windows; the child giggles at the way the knife’s blade is catching the silver light as Astarion peels and cuts the apple into even pieces.

“Here you go,” he finally says, giving the slice of apple one last examining look before surrendering it to the impatient little hands reaching for it. “A sweet treat for my little sweet. Doesn’t it taste so much better when we don’t eat it off the floor, darling?” And when it’s not crawling with ants…

The appeased toddler nibbles at the juicy fruit as Astarion carefully combs through her still-damp curls. 

Her hair’s getting long, he notices, knowing that taking care of it will become more time-consuming each day. 

Once, Astarion would’ve thought this task tedious, brushing out hair that’s not his own, oiling and braiding it for no other reason than knowing his children enjoy him doing it. 

But that’s why he loves doing it in the first place, he supposes.

Astarion can tell by his toddler’s heartbeat that sleep is about to claim her. 

The half-eaten slice of apple is still clutched in her little fist as he cradles the child to his chest, slowly rising from the window seat to put her to bed. 

He’s just about to lay the child down that the fruit drops to the floor, his daughter’s tiny hand clutching at his shirt instead.

“Thank you, papa,” she mumbles, more asleep than awake.

Astarion pauses.

He breathes in the clean, yet unique scent of the little girl that is forever engraved in his brain, the same way he knows under which exact constellation she was born. When she took her first steps, what her first word was. Soon, he will have to memorise her favourite colour, and what she likes to eat when dirty apples won’t be that appealing anymore. 

By now, Astarion knows this game by heart, knows that with every year that passes, he has something new to learn about his children.

And sometimes he wonders what it’s like to grow up with clean bed sheets and full bellies. Sleep filled with naught but warmth and happy memories. Ever open doors and tears that are dried by tender kisses. Living in a house where mistakes and anger are welcomed, safe. 

He wonders what it’s like for his children to know that their father’s love comes without conditions. Not now and not ever. 

Sitting down on the bed, Astarion holds his youngest a little closer to his chest, unwilling to let go of her, yet. 

He’s often accused of spoiling his children when most people can only just grasp the very surface of his love for them, the bare minimum of what he feels for his one and only, precious family. 

These baseless accusations are as unimportant to Astarion as the people voicing them.

He’s raising his children to have standards, wants them to take their father’s love for granted, to accept nothing less but pure devotion.

It’s the only way Astarion knows how to love them, the only way that comes most naturally to him. 

Astarion looks down at his little girl, now fast asleep, a gentle smile tugging at her lips. 

After all these years—all these children—he’s still in awe watching them sleep in his arms as if no harm in the world could ever befall them.

And it won’t—not if Astarion can help it. 

“No, thank you, my heart,” he whispers, pressing a kiss against the crown of the toddler’s head. 

When it comes to his children, Astarion holds himself to the highest standard.

[tadpole-apocalypse]

C H O M P

[aliasmard]

something happened in my brain, and now u have to watch it

[passionesolja]

[heph]

Was perusing your commissions form and noticed that you have a surcharge for Tav and Astarion. May I inquire as to why that combo gets a surcharge as opposed to, for example, Tav and Karlach? No judgement, but curiosity demands I ask why.

My reasoning is stupid as hell I'll warn you beforehand! It's because I ship bloodweave and get sad when they're split up ;w;

[cedarw00div]

Astarion(ascended) and Gortash are fighting over who's the worst character in my canon

meanwhile Raphael is standing in the background with a metal pipe

[atsadi-shenanigans]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Thank you for the tag, @nyx-knox!

Here’s a bit from the sequel fic I’m working on:

No one else is coming. Nothing else is going to happen. There’s no reason for the tension clawing along his shoulders and creaking down his spine.

He casts another cantrip, though between hours of the same, and her own, mortal body heat, the inside of his tent is warmer than it’s ever been. And he rather doesn’t want that to end.

Yet it does, because their leader is mortal and needs to do things like walk around and eat and drink and relieve herself.

She mumbles something in her own tongue. It’s nowhere near as elegant as his own Elvish, nor as stilted as to-the-point Common. It has its own smooth roll, though, and it’s nearly pleasant to listen to.

This man has no idea. No idea. But he’s gonna get there. Eventually.

Tagging @sasseffects @britonell @lyzelky @dajeong @simpyra

[wanderersrespiteblog]

Character Introductions and How to Fuck Them Up

In Rogue Trader, one of the earliest party members you meet and recruit is an unsanctioned psyker by the name of Idira, a retainer and servant to Lady Theodora von Valancius. In 40k, unsanctioned psykers are those who have not been given the literal and metaphorical seal of approval for their training by the Imperium and its bureaucracy, and as such are hunted down on sight by the Inquisition to prevent their latent arcane abilities from manifesting daemons and other monsters from the warp through negligence or intentional summoning. She's introduced practically within the first cutscene of the game as a devoted, if eccentric, member of Lady Theodora's retinue, and Idira owes the woman her life in more ways than one. She makes no show of hiding that she's a powerful psyker due to the immunity afforded by her liege's writ, and you see this expressed both in her gameplay and dialogue options; the woman's psyker abilities physically bend and break the fabric of reality around her, and if used too much in too short a timespan in combat can cause daemons to spawn out of nowhere as the wall between the material world and the warp grows thin to the point of being utterly bypassed by them, and in conversations she regularly advocates for a pragmatic yet heretical approach to dillemas and emergencies. She's with you all the way through the opening act and serves as your main psyker for the first half of it.

The woman takes Lady Theodora's death especially hard due to the history the two of them have, and following the conclusion of the prologue rumors begin to abound that Lady Theodora's ghost has begun appearing to crew members aboard the vessel. Given the nature of 40k as a setting, it's entirely possible her spirit is appearing, which while sweet presents an existential threat to the health and integrity of the crew due to the possibility of it being corrupted by the malevolent nature of the warp. During this time, Idira begins complaining of nightmares and visions of Lady Theodora beckoning to her, with others writing these appearances off as survivor's guilt from her unable to save her friend and master.

After a certain length of time and enough trips through the warp, a disastrous daemonic incursion appears on one of the main decks for your vessel, accompanied by reports of Idira in the midst of it. As your party arrives, you find the crew mutated and possessed by these malicious spirits as daemons feast upon those they could not turn, the twisted image of Lady Theodora mocking her once-servants and deriding you for your failure to lead them effectively. At the end of the encounter you find Idira having an absolute mental breakdown, her psyker abilities out of control as she grieves the loss of her friend. As soon as she spots you she confesses that she sought out the ghost intentionally, hoping that some way, some how, she might be able to give the woman peace, pleading for your assistance and forgiveness for her grievous mistake, all while the perverted form of her former charge demands you face her.

There, you are given a choice: shoot Idira yourself, have one of your party members shoot her, side with Idira and banish her from your ship right after, or side with Idira and work to save her.

In all of the above cases you as the player have genuine freedom for roleplay and agency within the story. Even prior to this point you at any time can expel her from your retinue, even sending her off for execution via the Inquisition once you pick up a certain character if you so please. You spend more time with Idira, see the pros and cons of her abilities for yourself, and are only put into a situation where she could plausibly end your life once you're familiar with the stakes of her condition and temperment.

Contrast this with Baldur's Gate 3's Astarion, who's introduction consists of him deceiving you and putting a knife to your neck to figure out what's going on, outright threatening to kill you himself if you don't comply. While this does establish him as a cutthroat - literally - it also immediately gives reason for not wanting any association with him from the in-world, PC perspective. One could argue the desperation of having a ilithid tadpole in your skull gives way to odd bedfellows, but with how the game immediately undercuts that possibility by asserting that those the party has are somehow different (and then immediately undercutting that undercutting, but that's a separate issue) there is genuinely little motive for a reasonable person to want to even be around him, let alone have him in their party.

Moreover, the actual "reveal" of him as a vampire is incredibly mishandled. By his own admission he feeds off of animals where he can, and while we can see evidence of this in the overworld of the game, but this does not suffice for his full strength. So, instead of targeting a random civilian or a downed enemy - the latter of which we have many of in Act I - he goes right for the person that already suspects and has reason to distrust him. Not only does this reinforce the above issue of "Why should my PC keep this guy around in-world?" it also comes off like he's a blathering idiot with no conception of self-preservation or ability to recognize when it would be a bad idea to try and feed off of someone who is aware he's prone to sneaky shit. If he went after an enemy, and we walked in on him feeding midway through, there's some more grounds for plausible deniability, those that can be surpassed with an Insight check, but also presents a moral dilemma to the PC: is it acceptable for an allied vampire to feed off of those who tried to attack you? Given the clear and present discomfort shown by the PC when Astarion feeds off of them it's clear the process is neither pleasant nor easy to shrug off, so that then places the burden of deciding where the line is on the PC. There your options could be stake him, allow him to feed off of enemies, allow him to feed off of enemies and strangers, or banish him outright. There's nuance and legitimate grounds for debate as opposed to the "do you consent to getting your blood sucked by a stranger who threatened to murder you at your first meeting" the game runs with.

I bring Idira up in this discussion because she, in essence, presents the same issue Astarion does, but handled in a far better way. Both possess a condition that makes them a clear and present threat to the player and the people around them. Both are immediately established as rule breakers. Both can and do put the party in peril because of their innate characteristics, albeit through different circumstances. Both then present the player with the option to kill them, banish them, or help them, but one is done in a far more interesting way than the other.

Bear in mind this is not an assessment of their overall character arcs, just how they are initially presented and the way their conflict is set up with the PC.

[nebulousfishgills]

I promise this is a conversation I will have in therapy

( @ohitshoneybee and @bowersbubbles )

[not-poignant]

@draconis-ruthren replied to your post “Sending some questions rom the fic meme, 20, 21...”:

This is why I feel like a fly on the wall watching everything going on, cuz I know Raphael is a devil who will do devil things, the real question is always, ok what is he going to do now? Which causes some angst but also makes for some great entertainment cuz then it like, ok buddy you made this decision, how do you plan on living with it? Lol

​I get stressed sometimes thinking about how to balance 'yes he IS 50% human' with 'yes he IS 50% devil.' Not wholly devil, not wholly human. And also like, thousands of years completely out of touch with his human self in general, because he did reach pit fiend / Ascended pit fiend.

He talks about this in the next chapter actually, and he describes his cambion self and especially his human self as a 'shadow' he lost touch with, and how with his resurrection, and losing the pit fiend form, he now has that sort of 50% back front and centre.

But his human self can be a sadist as well. People aren't compassionate by default.

Idk, I think there are some human motivations in there, but nothing ever quite tops his need to increase his power. And he has successfully just won a massive increase thanks to this fairly minor contract with Astarion. If nothing else, Astarion has already proven himself more than useful, and Raphael's proven he doesn't need to bind someone's soul to him, if it means netting even more souls in the future.

I do think like a spider, he's remaking a very large web - some of which broke when he died. But like a person, he has needs/wants/desires, and maybe sometimes he is just a guy who wants to sexually torment another guy for fun, who sometimes finds himself pleasantly surprised by how pretty Astarion is, or how clever, or how silly, etc. Like 'this is a pleasing and useful diversion but as soon as the toy gets boring and/or betrays me, we're done' but also with some fondness. Because I do think Raphael is capable of fondness towards certain people / individuals, even if it's not necessarily loyal.

Tbh I also feel very fly-on-the-wall sometimes.

[gaylittleguys]

mischaracterizing wyll as ‘daddy’s bestest baby boy’? I’ll kill you

[the-weeping-dawn]

Astarion I've never heard the call of the divine Ilz: I'm sure you've heard Vhaeraun. Ilz: You've reacted to him multiple times. Ilz: I can solve this problem for you quite easily if you don't just want to whine? Astarion: I am just trying to brood right now, but I'll keep it in mind.