#astarion has such a squishy face too

[roseyjustice]

Sometimes you gotta grab a vamp and just give em a smooch !

[invinciblerodent]

it's been a real struggle to find notebooks that I actually like, but I think I have found myself at a crossroads where I must ask myself--

am I the kind of person who would put function above form, and use the lovely, though plain notebooks from the office supply store

or am I the type to say fuck it, form over function, bitch, and order a custom-made one with a collage of my blorbo on it strictly for the meme

[lavender-romancer]

Push it Down

Astarion x GN Reader

Everyday it got worse, the longing stares interrupted when La’zel would curiously catch your eyeline always straying to Astarion. Or how you would always inextricably walk next to him regardless of the goal ahead. Shadowheart would often question if Astarion had to open “every lock we find” at your request. But you couldn't help it, being near him, with him was all you would think about

AN: Astarion brainrot is a real condition people. Lots of lovely fluff.

You're a squishy wizard

*°*°•.˜”*°•.˜”*°•.˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”°*

“Do you have to make your feelings so obvious that it's painful?” Shadowheart asked as you looked through some random boxes you found in what remained of moonhaven.

“Do you have to bring this up again?” You jabbed back with a smile. “I'm not ashamed of it, but I will never outright admit it.”

“Lady of Sorrows guide you, I don't know how you're able to stand with your debilitating lack of a spine.” She raised her eyebrow and you simply rolled your eyes “Here, go give these to your boy-toy.” Handing you a few thieves' tools Shadowheart walked to another side of the room and continued looting.

You scampered outside, only realising when you were in front of Astarion how desperate it must have looked to run up to him like a dog wagging its tail excitedly. He was unlocking a chest that was one in a big group La'zel and Karlach had put together for him to deal with.

“Here,” you held out the tools with a smile that was much too big for such a small token.

“Thank you, darling.” He smiled up at you. “You're looking particularly overjoyed, what's got you so energetic?”

“Uh… looting.” You never were good at lying.

“Thank the Gods you never became a politician because your inability to deceive is one of your greatest qualities.” He opened the chest he had been working on.

“I suppose. But I wish I was better at more things like that, it just makes me so nervous to not be honest.” You fidgeted with your hands.

“Well, for starters you need to be better at improvising, it is adorable to see you try and lie to anyone and fail miserably. I'm convinced you should just be completely honest and people might not believe you.” Standing up he brushed the dust off his trousers and you were now face to face. Given, a few steps apart but it still made you smile and your feet shuffle anxiously.

“The tadpole has definitely made me better at lying, you have to at least admit that.” You were practically beaming, staring at him in awe.

“Still, you carry most of your emotions in your eyes and your inability to stop smiling. You'll get there eventually my friend, probably, I mean probably not but it's very sweet that you continue to try. Anyways, we should head back to camp for the evening I am positively spent.” Astarion walked past you to pick up his backpack and you internally groaned.

It was so deeply embarrassing when you couldn't keep your emotions hidden. A problem you had usually put down to anxiousness, but realistically it was just something you had to learn to live with. You were an open book with almost no air of mystique about you. Maybe that was why Astarion seemed so utterly uninterested in seeking anything but friendship or a quick night of passion.

As you lay in your tent, you conjured a mage hand to throw books at you to try and practice your telekinesis but it was going dreadfully. Whilst your magic was growing back to it's former strength before the tadpole you were still plagued by poor reaction times to basically anything. One quite powerful throw from the conjured hand hit your arm and you yelped, sure that it would leave a bruise.

“What mischief are you up too now?” A voice suddenly asked, distracting you from the task at hand as a book hit you square in the face.

“Fuck!” You exclaimed, dismissing the mage hand and rubbing your nose.

“Are you trying to be agile again? You know how that ended up last time.” Astarion joked as he entered your tent and sat down opposite you.

A funny but painful memory entered your mind when you had tried to climb over a very small wall to surprise some goblins and had instead ended up on your back in front of them. If falling over in front of some goblins wasn't bad enough, you had also slipped in grease that was extremely easy to avoid alerting the whole horde to your party's location. The bollocking you got from La'zel after that encounter made you promise to work on your ability to not be “such a fucking Wizard” whatever that meant.

“No, surprisingly I was failing at something else.” You quipped back at him, “anyways, did you want to feed or-”

“No, well yes but, I wanted to talk to you.” He licked his lips absentmindedly and seeing the slight glint of his fangs off the light of your candle made your eyes grow wider. You never knew you'd have a thing for vampires…

“Oh! Do uhm, talk away.” You cringed at your inability to string a sentence together.

“I- look. I know that I am beautiful and wonderful darling, but have you been looking at me slightly differently lately?” he asked, you could almost sense that he was nervous but you weren't sure why.

“What do you mean?” You responded with your eyes fixated on your bedroll on the floor as the alarm bells rang in your head.

“With more longing behind your eyes?” You hadn't noticed that same longing in his eyes which was often present in your gaze.

“Who- I- why did you get that impression?” You fumbled through your words and began fiddling with your robe.

“Oh, I…” he trailed off and you finally looked up, sensing his dejected tone you cocked your head.

“You sound disappointed.” Your tone was soft in an attempt to stop him from running away from the conversation.

“Disappointed? Darling if I wanted you I could most certainly have you.” Having returned to his snarky sense of security you frowned.

“Is that why you seem so annoyed? Because I rejected you before?” Your mind went back to drinking red wine with him, the sour taste filling your nose all over again. It wasn't that you didn't want him, you just didn't want the first time you could spend the night with him to be clouded with alcohol and regret. Maybe it had bruised his ego but there were so many reasons to try to let your bond grow overtime.

“You think that wounded me? I have laid with thousands and I'll lay with thousands more before I am hurt by that!” He exclaimed but you could see the hurt in his eyes that he struggled to hide.

“I didn't want it to be like that. Something that you might feel like was a mistake, a drunken mishap you'd rather forget. I didn't- I don't want you to think I did it because I did not want it. Under different circumstances things would have been different for me.” Clasping your hands together you tried to reach his gaze but it was so accusatory that it was making your heart pound.

“I- I don't think I've ever been rejected as tactfully as you did.” Astarion almost laughed with a far-away look in his eyes.

“It didn't feel genuine and I couldn't allow myself to be swept up in all of it knowing that we weren't on the same page with our feelings about one another.” Smiling sadly you looked at the book that had previously hit you in the face, pushing it to the side you moved a bit closer to him. “I'm sorry that you felt like you had to do that, that night I mean. Correct me if I'm wrong, please.”

“I'm not sure how you know me so well that it's almost concerning.” His voice sounded strained as he departed from his snarky performative notes.

“You've become my favourite distraction through all of this shit we've dealt with. I really like being around you, it will be a shame when it all comes to an end when we get to Baldurs Gate.” your voice didn't show your true sadness but your eyes certainly did and Astarion could tell.

“I was hidden for so many years within those city walls, imprisoned and kept as a loyal pet before the nautiloid. A grim reality was the only way to escape the even worse life I was living and… I never thought I'd make friends let alone feel connected to someone. But you, you're thoughtful and sweet and respectful and too perceptive for your own good but so silly and honestly so bad as hiding that it's hilarious. Finding someone who understands you is a great gift and I would not like to squander it.” Astarion reached out his hand and it shook slightly as he showed his true vulnerability. You looked from his hand to his face, it was genuine and really from everything you could gather, it seemed like he was being the most honest he'd ever been with you.

“You want to stay together?” Your voice was so hopeful as your head told you that you were an idiot.

“Yes. You fool. Was that not clear. Now hold my hand so we're not both fools.” He rolled his eyes and you hurriedly held his hand. Your clamminess was immediately obvious given his hand was ridiculously cold. “God you mortals are always sweaty aren't you.” He gave you a cheeky smile and you had to laugh or you'd descend into an anxiety ridden madness.

“Do you want to stay here tonight? I would enjoy a cuddle.” You asked.

“Just a cuddle Darling?” He flirted but there was still that look behind his eyes that was there after the tiefling party. The look you had come to understand was the dogma drilled into him to seduce, sleep with and then sacrifice all his conquests. Sex wasn't the same in Astarion's head as it was in yours but you didn't mind, it wasn't important to you.

“Just a cuddle.” You smiled in a way that you hoped was supportive and whilst he looked surprised he didn't seem disappointed. “Come here,” you lay down on the pillows and invited him to chest.

Whilst tentative he rested his head on your chest and slowly placed his hand on your arm. You without warning wrapped your arms around him in a squeeze of a hug that would probably suffocate someone who wasn't already dead. But he seemed to appreciate it as he nuzzled under your chin and his body began to relax. You stayed like that for a while until you began to snore and Astarion peeled himself from your embrace. He sat up and started to read, every so often glancing down at you. How an earth had he allowed himself to fall for a Wizard?

Astarion Taglist:

@anukulee

[ginavampina]

Your Astarion&Darcy illustrations are SO CUTE! I wonder...does Darcy takes after mommy or after daddy regarding the personality?

Ahh thank you! I love them both very much 😭

D’arcy is very mischievous but overall a very happy lil lad. In terms of his personality I think he has a lot about him that could be traits from either parent, though when he’s younger I imagine he takes after Astarion’s fun/mischievous nature more.

I like to imagine D’arcy has the temperament of a kitten. Playful but is also a keen (but clumsy) hunter. He is as chaotic as you would expect a baby dhampir to be 😭 He rarely sleeps in his own bed and will often “hunt” his parents whilst they sleep which consists of him wriggling his way onto their bed and pouncing on Astarion’s face. The gum bite attack usually follows. For a time I imagined they swaddled him and tied him to their canopy bed so he was hanging upside down like a bat and he slept soundly. D’arcy’s infamous sleeping arrangement was what initially inspired the coffin piece I did for the three of them too!

Thank you all for the D’arcy love. He’s a squishy lil boy and he’s just so precious at this stage of his life. Well, actually, D’arcy is always precious. If you want an idea of what he’s like when he’s older — think of someone like Zagreus from Hades Game. Their personalities line up quite well!

(Also sorry to everyone who thought D’arcy was a girl 😂😭)

Please enjoy a lil bonus of this cleaner coffin lineart update!

[partygcthered]

okokok i have showered and done a lot of cleaning and unpacking boxes so i am here to share screenshots of updated characters now

here is thorne's updated design:

i found these dope ass piercings that are (likely) supposed to be for barbarians? but look at these tiger piercings? there are bear too. i very nearly made his skin the lightest green as a lil nod to miri but i decided to go with a tone that's very close to the greens, and has a bit of yellow undertones to it.

here is anoria's update, i made her less sort of domineering looking and cold, made her how i feel after over a hundred years as an exclusive consort to cazador and others, she'd look-the hair, the jewels, etc-also this vampire mod has specific vampire skintones which is dope

august also has an update, again, leaning more toward very high class "spoiled" sort of courtesan look for him, and he now has blue eye makeup which is dope, and some cool earrings

garrett got a lil update: some purple eye makeup and purple robes; i like to think much like their tattoo, it's kinda a dekarios thing since purple is sacred to mystra

i didn't update sil cause my baby doesn't need updating he is perfect as he is look at his squishy lil face

okokok dream guardian TIME

pre-vampire astarion

a mystra dream guardian for the dekarios clan

and a miri dream guardian

[alpydk]

Cabinet of Oddities (The Final Chapter)

Gale x Tav (OC F)

The final chapter. The defeat of the Netherbrain, the docks, the Chionthar. 2 epilogues. The first is the "canon" happy ending. The second is the one I prefer but decide for yourselves.

((I'm going to add a long blurb of thanks here. And some of my own unwanted backstory.

Nana was created for a DnD game back in 2021. A year when everything for me went to shit and I had a nervous breakdown. Her aversion to touch reflected my own insecurities with it, Thomas was the self-destructive tendencies which I clung to so desperately, her 5 years in the past was my 2021 as I lost myself to my mental health. Either way, this story was written as a reflection of all that happened and the friends that helped pull me out of it (despite all the struggles that came in that area).

But yeah, thank you to everyone who has read and enjoyed the story. It's meant a lot, especially with this being the first fic I've ever written. So again, thank you, thank you, thank you.))

Ao3 Link

Nana fell onto the Netherbrain, her slight changeling form hitting the flesh beneath her. “Ooo squishy…”

“Tormentum!” Gale fired off a barrage of magic missiles at the mind flayer that loomed over her. “Nana, pull yourself together!” The battle so far had been intense, fighting their way through the High Hall, taking down cultists, ghouls and mindflayers and they’d had little time to recuperate before the final stages came. Now they bided their time as their own mindflayer ally opened the last portal giving them access to their foe. Gale ran to her, helping her from the ground where the enemy had shoved her.

“Thanks,” she said, wiping the ichor from her armour before leaning around him and firing an arrow past him into a tentacle that had suddenly emerged. “This is fun, right?” He could see how light her eyes were and the way her lips curved as she saw the arrow hit.

He looked at her in confusion but then a smile crept on his face. “Hardly the verbiage I would choose, my love.”

The portal erupted into view and the group sprinted for it ready to face the brain, the hardest part they had to overcome. Gale still thought of the orb, of that final choice he would have to make if things began to go badly for them. They continued to fight valiantly leaping between the plates that barely held in place around the brain. He could see the wear and tear of Astarion’s armour, the bruises on Shadowheart’s face, and again the choice presented itself to him. If this is what is needed, then so be it. 

“Pew pew!” Nana dived past him firing arrows at the brain, his thoughts interrupted. Does she even realise where we are right now? He felt his head throb as the Netherbrain attempted to dominate the tadpoles they carried within. “Tormentum!” Another collection fired in the direction of the brain. Just go for the Magic Missile and fire away. Never fails. 

It was a spell from the Shadowheart that was the final nail in the coffin, causing the Netherbrain to cry out in agony. He heard its voice within his head pleading with them to surrender or work alongside it but the mindflayer accompanying them ordered them to kill it. Gale stood with the crystals, looking at the Netherbrain in front of him, knowing only one thing; He needed to get the crown. He commanded with authority for the Netherbrain to destroy all the tadpoles and itself, immediately feeling intense pain in his skull, the worm withering away to nothingness. 

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Nana watched as Gale made the order, her cheeks flushing a little at the sight. Oh, he is nice when he’s in charge… She bit her lip and then grimaced before crumpling to the ground in pain. She clenched her eyes shut, hoping for it to end and as it did, she looked up seeing the crown shatter into pieces before falling out of sight.

She looked down into the water. Everything was quiet. Too quiet. No Thomas, no tadpole, just the ramblings of her own mind. Jam, cushions, Gale. Going to be a fun night. And then there was a new sensation, one she had never experienced before, falling a large distance. 

She felt the wind in her hair, savouring the moment before she hit the cold water beneath. A strange feeling overtook her as struggled to stay afloat, her arms growing weaker against the current, water entering her lungs. She could see the light above the surface but her mind kept drifting away from her, willing for sleep to take her. It was only as Astarion grabbed her pulling her upwards and the air entering her lungs again that she realised what had happened. She gasped for breath as she was pulled up onto the docks, coughing up mouthfuls of water. “I need to… learn how to swim.”

Astarion stood up next to her wringing out the water from his clothes. “Darling, you need to learn so much more before swimming.”��

She felt Gale’s hand on her back, rubbing gently, and looked up to him with a smile. “We made it…”

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Gale walked along the docks indulging in the sensation of finally having his mind to himself again. He thought over the crown and where it was within the water, how he would find it and reforge it, and whether he was still willing to hand it over to Mystra as she had ordered of him. He looked over at Nana as she removed her soaked leather armour revealing her cotton shirt underneath, her pale skin moist with droplets of water. She shook her head, spattering Astarion, and Gale watched as he chastised her for it, her laughing at his temper. Is godhood worth losing all this?   

It was as her smile faded that his attention moved to what she had seen. Karlach stood on the edge of the docks, the flames of her skin licking higher. She’d spoken little of her affliction to him throughout their travels, but he knew what was happening as Shadowheart ran towards her with concern on her face. He watched, unable to hear the words they spoke to one another as Karlach burnt hotter and brighter than any of them had seen previously, his mind racing, looking for solutions. An ice blast, the water around us. All other options except the one he knew she was against. It was Wyll who shouted past him about Avernus, the reluctance showing on her face as she heard the words, but Shadowheart managed to convince her to see sense. 

They had no time to say goodbye to the trio before they fled through the portal, the heat of Karlach’s flames becoming too much for any of them to handle. Nana stood next to him, a tearful and shocked look on her face. 

Astarion came closer towards them both with a smirk. “Well, loves, I guess it’s just our merry- ow!” He flicked his wrist as if he had been bitten by an insect. Gale saw how his skin began to smoke, the delicate fingertips of his hands cracking into a soft blue. “What the - oh gods. Oh no.” The sunlight.

Nana's panic was clear to see as she watched how Astarion fled across the docks, his abilities being altered by the absence of the tadpole. “We have to go after him!” she called to Gale, before beginning to run.

Gale reached an arm out stopping her progress. “There’s little point. There’s nothing we can do for him.”

“Maybe not, but he’s our friend. We can’t just leave him alone out there,” she pleaded with him. In mere moments she had lost over half of the people who had ever come to care for her, leaving only him alone with her. “We have to find him. Please, Gale.”  

You’re right. The crown can wait. He gave a small nod and together they ran off in the direction they had seen Astarion flee.

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It had been over one hundred years since Astarion had felt the sun last burn his skin, a cruel torture technique that Cazador had used a few times for entertainment. But over the last few weeks, he had forgotten the feeling of it, the sting and then the pain that followed. He ran to the shadows, glad for the layer of dust in the air that blocked the sun’s direct rays from burning him up instantly. He crawled into himself, the days of those small beams prickling at his skin flashing in his mind, and he closed his eyes, willing them away, trying to work out his route to the Underdark where he would have to continue on alone.

What Astarion had not expected was to feel someone sit next to him as he sat alone behind the crates. He lifted his head and sat in confusion seeing Nana with him. After all they had been through, how he had treated her, and distrusted her so much. She still refused to abandon him like so many others had before. “He’s here, Gale,” she yelled out into the air.

Astarion didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want anyone to see him in this condition, with his face burnt by the sun, and his clothes tattered and torn. He buried his face in his knees again to shield himself from her view. As he spoke, his voice was quiet, more vulnerable than he would have liked, “Leave me alone.”

She said nothing but he didn’t feel her move. He heard Gale’s steps on the stone beside him and felt as he sat too. I don’t want their concern. He wanted to shout for them to leave again, he wanted his strength back, he wanted the sun, but they chose to never leave him. Even as the sun slowly dipped below the horizon, they sat quietly with him waiting until he was ready to say goodbye on his own terms. 

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“You’re going to be okay, right?” Nana’s lip quivered as she spoke the words on the shores of the Chionthar. 

Gale gave her a reassuring smile, placing his hands over hers. “I will be.” He spoke with confidence, despite the worries he held within. He was thankful for the tadpole’s absence making these little moments that much easier to handle. “I will find the crown and come back to you. Do not worry for me.”

“I’m going to wait right here. I’ll stay here until you’re back.” 

He could see the concern on her face, and he wished he could reassure her further. The letter he’d written lay in the journal he’d gifted her on the desk at the Elfsong Tavern, and he hoped she would never have to read it. Even if she did, he had spent hours with a quill in hand trying to provide the best words that could give her comfort if the worst were to happen. The kiss they shared felt too short, and Gale hoped it would not be their last. He boarded the boat to go out into the waters, letting his hands slip from hers. “Nana, know that I will always love you.”

He watched as she sat alone on the shore, her legs pulled up to her chest, and as she slowly disappeared from view he gave a quiet prayer to his goddess for her protection.

*****************************************

Epilogue

It was a sunny day outside of Waterdeep. A lone gravestone could be seen, purple flowers lined around the base. Not far from it sat Nana in her natural changeling form, her short white hair had grown out and the scuffed leather armour had been replaced with an elegant silk gown.  

 "So, it's been a year now since that day by the river. A lot's happened, as you know. I held a proper funeral for you here and I was able to say my goodbyes. I met up with Karlach and the gang again. They said Avernus has been good to them. They mentioned something about a refinery and that they’re hopefully sorting something permanent for Karlach’s machine. I’m hopeful for her. Astarion went back to the Underdark as well and has pretty much put himself in charge of all the vampires. He looks well, a lot more at ease with himself than he used to be.” 

She brushed her hair behind her ear. “And then there is me... Well, me and Gale are getting married. Yeah, I think he’s crazy too. I know you probably won’t be too happy about it, but then you were never really that happy about anything, were you? I wonder if you were always that way. Was there any way I could have really saved you?”

She sighed deeply looking at the tattered journal that sat beneath the stone. “I think that’s why I'm here today. I wanted to explain the choice I made a year ago. Why I didn't want to help you. I’d believed that I wasn’t enough, and when I met you, I thought that for maybe a moment you were the answer to everything. Too many times I questioned what you did and yet I allowed it, afraid of you leaving me. I was selfish and because of me, people got hurt, and people died. After meeting Gale, and everyone else, I realised that I am special in my own strange way and that being alone isn’t really what I want anymore. I guess what I’m saying is, I don’t need you anymore. I do hope though that you’re happy. You showed me a new world outside of my swamp, and maybe at some point, you did feel something for me other than the disgust you did a year ago.” She wiped away a stray tear and smiled. “Either way, I hope now that you’re gone, you’ve found some peace in death that you never had in life." 

A few feet away Gale approached, his hair still weaving around the collar of his robes, though now with a layer tied neatly back. "Nana, If I could give you longer I really would but my mother is quite the stickler for being punctual. We’ve also received a letter about a tree growing at the location we previously camped at in Rivington. They’d like for us to come and claim it before they cut it down." 

Nana looked at Gale and smiled before turning back to the gravestone. "Well, I guess this is it then…” She stood and placed a hand on the cold stone. “Goodbye, Thomas. I'll always remember our time together." She breathed deeply and approached Gale, sharing a brief kiss with him before settling her hand in his.

Together they left the resting place of Thomas, only the sound of birdsong left hanging in the air.

*************************************

Epilogue (Alternative)

The rains poured outside of Waterdeep. A lone gravestone could be seen, purple flowers lined around the base. Not far from it sat Gale his dark hair had grown out, greying more than it previously did and the scuffed purple robe had been replaced with leather armour.   

"So, it's been a year now since that day by the river. A lot's happened, as you know. I held a proper funeral for you here and I was able to say my goodbyes. I met up with Karlach and the group again. They said Avernus has been good to them. They mentioned something about a refinery and that they’re hopefully sorting something permanent for Karlach’s machine. I’m hopeful for her. Astarion went back to the Underdark as well and has pretty much put himself in charge of all the vampires. He looks well, a lot more at ease with himself than he used to be.” 

He brushed his hair back with his hand. “And then there is me... Well, I’m returning to my swamp. I stayed here for a while with Tara and your mother but they’re a bit much for me. I see the way they look at me, blaming me for what happened. I should have gone with you, I should have stopped you. I should have prayed harder to Mystra…”

Nana sat in his form holding her arms tightly around her body. She sighed deeply looking at the tattered journal that sat beneath the stone. “I think that’s why I'm here today. I wanted to say goodbye properly. I’d always believed that I wasn’t enough, and when I met you, I thought that for maybe a moment you were the answer to everything. I kept your form for comfort just like I did all those days past with Thomas and I know in some way you’re still with me but I know that I can’t keep doing this. I need to let you rest, I want to hold onto you, but I know it’s not what you want. Your letter brought me comfort and I keep it in the journal you bought for me. You never let me down, never. You were always worthy, always good enough and I just wish you knew that. I wish you were here so I could tell you every day how much I love you, how much I’ll always love you.” She wiped away a stray tear. “I’ll keep writing poetry for you." 

A few feet away Astarion approached, a large black umbrella held over him, blocking his suit from becoming soaked. "Darling, if I could give you longer I really would but they expect the rain to clear in the next few hours and I’d love to get back to the Underdark long before that happens."

Nana looked at him and waved an arm not wanting to be rushed before turning back to the gravestone. "Well, I guess this is it then…” She stood, reverting back to her natural form. “Goodbye, Gale. My moon and star." She breathed deeply and approached Astarion, giving him a small nod, thankful for the rain coming down upon them.

Together they left the resting place of Gale, only the sound of raindrops hitting the umbrella left hanging in the air.

[talesofthedm]

Shopping Trip (Pt. 1)

I want to write that one ballroom scene we never got because it's on my mind and that starts with a shopping trip, because we need fancy outfits before pissing off Gortash at his own event.

Not finished (hence part 1)

Contains spoilers for Act 3, and some references to Act 1 and 2

No i have not proofread this (or edited it)

Summary: Figaro the facemaker has had a very eventful past five minutes and he does not handle it well.

Word count: 1.6k (its short)

CW: Blood. Much blood. No combat, but it's the aftermath of one. Mentions of murder, cults, Astarion being a flirt for like 1 line.

Excerpt:

“No, that— just let me.” Astarion slung off his pack. “Gale, hold this.” The elf began rummaging through it, shoving bits and bobs in the wizard’s direction before he could even respond. Random blades, a balled-up piece of cloth that was more rag than shirt at this point, a sack of something inexplicably squishy, a severed head— “I think we forgot to deliver Nere.” There was a certain disinterest in Shadowheart’s voice that left Figaro somehow more concerned. “We can just mail him.” He tossed the severed head towards Karlach, taking pity on the poor wizard before the mountain of books and bits and useless knickknacks toppled over onto the floor. “That courier service owes us for getting rid of his cat problem.”

Freya dragged herself up from the floor, a deep gash along her side that certainly cut through deep muscles if not straight to the bone. The fire of her hair was nothing more than a ruddy brown with how much blood was caked through it. She pulled a large purse from her pack and slammed it onto the polished counter, leaving bloody handprints and a dripping trail. “How much for a rush job?”

Under normal circumstances, Figaro would scream at her and her friends for ruining his nice countertops, toss them out onto the street, and threaten to call the guards if they ever stepped foot in his shop again.

The twisted bodies lying on his polished hardwood floors reminded him that these were not, in fact, normal circumstances. He was trying not to stare at them, their bat-like faces and needle-like fangs lying beside the now charred corpse of a dwarf. If he hadn’t sipped the wine himself, if he hadn’t been forced to watch helplessly as the red dwarf unfurled his supply of saws and scalpels, if he hadn’t watched as the elf in front threw her body between Figaro and his would-be murderer with his own eyes, he would have never recognized the body as anything but an over-the-top decoration meant to scare children.

His extremities were still cold, buzzing in that sort of way it did when he would lean on his hand for too long while drawing new designs. No matter how he shook or massaged them, it would take years to get feeling back in the tips of his fingers.

But the elf woman in front of him only confirmed what he initially thought about her when she have blindly dived between him and the scalpel with her one question: this woman was mad. Completely, utterly, mad. Bleeding out on his floor, surrounded by a pile of bodies. He wasn’t sure what blood was hers or its or his or the dwarf’s or her companion’s.

To be honest, he wasn’t even sure if he still had a shopfront. What wasn’t burned to cinders was frozen solid, what wasn’t frozen solid was water and blood-logged, what wasn’t water and blood-logged was charred beyond repair. They were all mad, slinging spells left right and center as if this was some kind of fighting pit and not his entire livelihood.

What was strangest to him, though, was the woman kneeling in prayer. It was natural, he supposed, to try to find solace after such a harrowing event. But she wore armor the same as the rest of them, she brandished weapons more fearsome than that of the giant red tiefling beside her. She had flung around one of the changelings between her and her green companion with no more effort than one would play ping-pong! What could she be praying for?!

And then came the wash of light that emanated from her, cool and soothing both in color and feel. There was nothing on him to physically heal, but he watched as Freya stood straighter, her side stitching itself together as if nothing was ever wrong in the first place.

Astarion wiped his blades on the sides of hid armor, the bright red of the cloth doing absolutely nothing to hide it. He stepped over to Freya, taking her chin in his hand and pulling her to him before licking the layers of blood from her cheek. “You need a bath,” he responded to the non-question. She wasn’t even phased, accepting it with no more attention that an owner would give a pet.

They were all mad.

Freya reached up and removed a glove so she could tap the counter with the edge of her nail, directing the tailor back to the coin pouch. “Tonight. Archduke’s celebratory-coronation-whatever-it-is ball. How much?” He must have been paralyzed again. Yes, that was it. Someone had shoved a bottle of paralytic in his mouth and he couldn’t remember it. Why else would he be standing there, mouth gaping as pathetically as a caught fish. She reached up and closed it for him.

“I think we broke him,” Wyll whispered.

The simple statement was enough to snap him out of it, however. “There’s seven of you!” They all looked around, as if counting to confirm the statement, before nodding as if he was the fool. “You’re all insane!”

Freya’s response was to place another equally fat pouch beside the first. Figaro stared, dumbstruck. “I—I’ll see what I have on hand that can be fitted… Do you all know your measurements?” They all just stared blankly. Even Wyll, who had had almost monthly trips to this very shop as a youth, no longer knew the answer. Between his years banished and how unfamiliar his new body was, it was a mystery to him.

“Seriously?” Astarion threw his head back, groaning. “How do you all not know something so basic?!”

“I am one and a half blade’s long.”

“That’s not a measurement!”

“It is among the Gith. I can also provide it in arrows, if that is any easier.”

“No, that— just let me.” Astarion slung off his pack. “Gale, hold this.” The elf began rummaging through it, shoving bits and bobs in the wizard’s direction before he could even respond. Random blades, a balled-up piece of cloth that was more rag than shirt at this point, a sack of something inexplicably squishy, a severed head—

“I think we forgot to deliver Nere.” There was a certain disinterest in Shadowheart’s voice that left Figaro somehow more concerned.

“We can just mail him.” He tossed the severed head towards Karlach, taking pity on the poor wizard before the mountain of books and bits and useless knickknacks toppled over onto the floor. “That courier service owes us for getting rid of his cat problem.”

“Tressym. And her name is Tara!”

“She is cute, has a general air about her that says ‘I’m better than you’, and eats pigeons. That’s a cat.”

“So, you’re a cat?” Freya poked.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, dear, but we have more pressing matters at hand— hold this.” Astarion pulled a rather strange dagger from his pack, the blade like blown sea glass and the unmistakable iconography of Baahl expertly crafted into the ferrule. He placed it directly into Gale’s open hand.

“Is that the dagger? I told you I wasn’t touching the damn murder weapon!”

“I would never make sure your fingerprints are all over a weapon used to kill one of the most beloved priests in the city.” Next came out of the bag were the torn-up letters, the strands of delicate strands of beads, and the shining rings. A single one of them could buy out Figaro’s entire shop—no wonder the woman had thrown down bags of coin like nothing.

Finally, the white-haired elf gave a silent cheer. “Gale, buddy, put that stuff away for me, will you?” He stacked the now empty pack atop the giant pile in Gale’s arms and reached over the counter and handed a folded-up piece of paper to Figaro. “You’re going to want to double check the breast—”

“Why in the nine hells do you have everyone’s measurements?!” Wyll yelled.

“What do you mean breast?!” Shadowheart yelled at the same time.

“I’m not sure if I should be impressed or holding you at knifepoint,” Lae’zel added.

Astarion threw up his hands in defense. “We were in the Shadowlands, you all sleep like rocks, there was nothing to hunt, and I was bored. What did you expect me to do?”

“Read a book!” Wyll called to the heavens. “Like a normal person!”

“Not touch me in my sleep?!”

“You saw my collection,” Astarion waved to the now shrinking pile of books in Gale’s hands, each one meticulously being stowed away with the ghostly blue mage hand he had summoned. “I finished those in, like, one night. And I would never do that!”

“Without permission,” Freya added.

“Without permission!” he agreed. “Plus, it makes it easier to patch everyone’s clothes if I know what it is I am supposed to be patching.”

Figaro continued to stand, watching the odd collection of people bicker over something he considered so mundane.  His sister (the golden child) was a tailor, his father (the bastard) was a tailor, and he (the rightful heir) was a tailor. He'd guess inseams and shoulder width at a glance when he was bored, and he assumed the elf in front of him could do the same.

“So, what, you were just randomly guessing at the size of my thighs while we were killing Myrkul?”

Figaro waved in their general direction, the last of his sanity snapping at the way it was said so bluntly, before pointing at each one individually. You’re all insane! You’re insane,” Freya. “You’re insane,” Karlach. “You’re insane,” Gale. “You’re especially insane—”

“I’m a vampire.” Astarion smiled, flashing the poor tailor his blood-stained fangs in the process. Figaro crumpled under his own weight, eyes rolling back in his head as he hit the ground with a thunk.

“Now look what you did,” Shadowheart scolded. “Now we have to wait.”

“We could always try his sister.”

“You,” she jabbed a finger in his chest. “Nearly tried to kill a man in there. I doubt she’d want us anywhere near that place again.”

“He was annoying me! It is not my fault Freya kept talking to him!”

“He was funny,” Freya retorted. “Mostly because he annoyed you.” Astarion just stood, pointing at Freya like a child placing blame.

“Annoying someone is not a reason to try to stab them.”

“Then what the hell have we been doing for the past month?!”

“I agree with the elf. That man would have been killed day one of training for simply speaking.”

[dragonologist-phd]

#5, 23, 27, 37 of the BG3 asks for Naia?

thank you!

5. Do you remember the first humanoid enemy your Character killed? Was it the first person they’ve ever killed, in your opinion? Would they have been bothered by it?

Let's see, that would be...the looters in the ruins on the beach, if I remember right. I cleared out that area before even getting to the grove, so that would've been the first non-mindflayer fight for her

I don't think it would have been her first kill- her first time killing someone directly, maybe, but she doesn't really split hairs on the difference. She'd made a living for a while selling herbs and potions, and she definitely sold poisons as well. She knew what her poisons would be used for, and she did it anyway- she doesn't see it as all that different from killing someone in battle.

All in all, it didn't affect her that much; she tried to resolve things peacefully, they attacked first, she was justified in fighting back, and honestly, she had much more important things to worry about at the time than the ethics of killing in self-defense

23. What are your Character’s thoughts on the dream visitor?

She was...conflicted. She definitely didn't trust them at all at first, but over time they did start to seem a little more trustworthy. Still, they always seemed too perfect- too beautiful, too patient, too cajoling- and Naia is too cynical to take something like that at face value.

It was after they saved her and Lae'zel at the creche that she finally started coming around to the idea that they really did want to help, though she never did take their advice on consuming the tadpoles. She values her independence and the sanctity of her own mind way too much to ever take that leap of faith.

27. Who ended up in your Character’s most used party?

I don't think Shadowheart has ever left my party in Naia's playthrough lol. I love her, and so does Naia! (Plus Naia is squishy, she needs a healer with her at all times. especially in Act 1.)

Her other constant was Karlach, whom I also love. Naia is a little more awkward around Karlach- she doesn't always know how to meet Karlach's energy- but she admires her a lot, and it's always useful to have someone around who can actually pass an athletics check.

The last party slot varies depending on the quest, but those two were pretty constant!

37. Did your Character find the Necromancy of Thay? How are they handling it / planning to handle it?

She did and of course she read that thing right away! Her initial reaction was really just being psyched at finally getting some actual, peer-reviewed necromancy theory, seeing as her practice up to that point was almost all self-taught.

It all worked out pretty well, too- she breezed through the checks in reading the first section and got that nice Forbidden Knowledge buff. There's still a lot she couldn't read yet, of course, but she kept the book close at hand in anticipation of unlocking the rest.

(She did piss off Astarion by taking it for herself, but...come on. There was no prying that thing out of her hands.)

BG3 Act 1 Asks

[svarttrost]

Thank you for the tag, @silver-horse! I love doing these, even if it takes me forever to get around to actually start 😭

I have A LOT of BG3 characters planned and ready, but I'll only do the ones I've actually finished a playthrough with or have an active one with, if we don't want to be here all day 😬

Quick tip, I guess: the background colours I've used for everyone (myself included) are reflecting themselves in some way, be it a favourite color, a personality or background vibe, or something like that. I like colour coding my people 😁

Hello, it's me! Perpetually tired and up in my own head with simultaneously too much and too little imagination, forever a coffee lover.

Meet my first Tav, Saraana. She's a wood elf ranger with a thirst for knowledge (her background is Sage). She is kind and righteous, very straightforward and just as curious. Her love of learning is probably what drew her to Gale the most, and vice versa.

Her preferred weapon is a longbow, so she snipes down targets from a distance and ensnares them to make them easier to take down for her allies.

She's supposed to have faint tattoos on her face, the ones that look like a tree, called "Yggdrasil" in game, but alas, the limitations.

The second Tav I've played is a half-drow warlock of the Great Old One, Thyia, who is supposed to be more gray than blue and have face tattoos, called "Woven Razors", known to have dabbled in criminal activity here and there. She is cautious and calculated, a strong advocate for autonomy, who doesn't shy away from power if it means gaining an edge against her enemies, within reason, of course.

Thyia dove head first into Astarion's advances, seeing right through him all the while, choosing instead to break through his defenses. It worked, and they became nigh inseparable, until she helped him ascend, take all the freedom and power he's ever wanted, and relinquished herself fully to him, bound to him for eternity. This time, choosing to ignore the way his eyes sometimes seemed to look through her, rather that at her.

Our third contestant, called Stiorra, is an Asmodeus tiefling and a bard of College of Lore. She lived in Baldur's Gate as an entertainer until she was plucked up by a nautiloid on her way to a performance. She suffered serious burns while hurtling through Avernus and hasn't been able to get them healed properly, which has left scars on her face. Her preferred instrument is a lyre and she fights with a rapier.

Personality wise, Stiorra is a bright and fun-loving person, with a little bite to her silken tongue, when the situation calls for it.

She quickly builds friendships with everyone around and outside camp, but can be caught paying special attention to Astarion. Being a performer herself, she picks up on his frivolousness hiding something deeper within, and cannot help herself wanting to gently unravel his heart's shackles. While wary and disapproving of her good intentions to help every poor soul they come across, AND having to save her ass from looming death multiple times (she's a squishy bard, it happens), Astarion warms up to her and soon Stiorra becomes the one person he can always confide in, the only one he trusts completely.

Stiorra ends up freeing both Astarion's heart and body and 7000 more spawn from Cazador's shadow and showers him in love every day. And provides midnight snacks for him, too.

This nearly transparent disaster is Opal. She's good with knives and doesn't remember much else. Like what in the Hells happened to her hair, for example. She doesn't really care though, she might just chop it off altogether if it becomes annoying and gets in the way of slashing and maiming and bleeding them dry.

She's heard once before that her eyes are the colour of white opals. She took to calling herself by that name. Opal. It's fitting, she thinks. She doesn't remember the face of the one who used to call her that, too.

She doesn't feel the infernal heat on her skin as she's wading through hordes of imps. Her head, though - her head is on fire. The inside of her skull is red hot and feels like bursting open, but also empty, void of all thoughts but one - KILL.

As one may have guessed, Opal tends to have dark urges, and is also a rogue assassin. She's unusually pale for a drow and has quite a few scars in quite a few places. Opal's memories are fractured to the point where she relies on instinct alone to get through the nautiloid, and her instinct in screaming at her to kill everything in sight. Slicing through bodies feels as effortless as breathing, and she knows it's what she's been doing for years before this.

But then, she hesitates.

Once. The severe unfamiliar sharp eyed creature, who pointed a sword at her throat.

Twice. The young half elf trapped in a pod, shrouded in shadow, pleading for help.

Thrice. The pale elf with piercing blood red eyes, the one who dared draw his own dagger on her.

She should have met their flesh with her steel. She should have reveled in their dying whimpers, crimson flowers blooming on their chests. Shouldn't she have?

She hesitates. She wants to know herself. She wants to know why there is searing hot bloodlust bubbling in the depths of her soul. She figures, she can't go this alone. So she hesitates, again and again.

Aaaand here it is. And I don't know who else to tag as I don't like to impose...😬 So if anyone who sees this wants to do it, go right ahead, and feel free to tag me, I'd love to see what characters you've come up with!

Picrew link.

Artist vs OC

Thank you for the tag @cheekylittlepupp

This is going to be very boring because I tend to create characters who look like me 😔 Me and my main bg3 OC half-drow sorcerer (wild magic) she is basically me if I could do magic:

(My hair isn't actually quite so dark but I couldn't find a matching colour. I also couldn't replicate my OC's slightly grey drow skintone 🤷‍♀️)

My high elf character (during our multiplayer honour mode session with @vspin) and my drow durge character and my high half-elf durge character:

The high-elf is a noble draconic sorcerer with 2 levels in wizard, she is wielding Phalar Aluve. My drow character is also a sorcerer. (Originally storm sorcerer but I changed her to wild magic) They are just named after me lol My high half-elf character is called Thea, she is a very antisocial and she abandoned or killed every companion except Astarion. Nobody is allowed to stay their camp. 💀

I am tagging (if you want to but feel free to ignore) @astarioffmode @svarttrost @tadpole-apocalypse @communistfries @elminsters @mercymaker @cerudinae @charmedcleric @zekeen @astarionancuntnin @drizztdohurtin @utterdrip @oakenshieldbaggins (@a-s-t-a-r-i-o-n ) @ghostfire @florbelles @oddlyotherscience @snowfolly

Link to picrew