#baldur whump

[ashintheairlikesnow]

I would love to see more Chris, and especially with Branch now we know that bastard is deep in the ground

Yeah, Oliver Branch is so very, very, very dead. That was a fun day for us all.

CW: Creepy whumper, intimate whumper, Oliver Branch is gross, BBU, forced alcohol consumption, minor whump (whumpee is 17), some gross implications here

-

"They should have a Pets Unlimited feature," His Sir muses, stirring the little stick with the olive speared through it around and around the slightly-tinted liquid in his martini glass. Baldur watches it, his mind too slow and foggy for the words to sink in immediately.

There's a delay before Baldur, kneeling on the floor before his Sir's chair, tips his chin to look up. At first, Sir is blurry and completely out of focus, but when he tries, slowly the details come together. "... a what?"

"Oh, probably not that, I'm sure they'd get sued for copyright infringement," Sir hums, picking up the toothpick and biting the olive right off, bleu cheese stuffing and all. He leans down and feeds Baldur some of the olive-stained vodka, until the boy coughs and Sir laughs at him, stabbing another olive from a little bowl on the table beside him and feeding Baldur that, too.

The squeak of olive and tang of the blue-veined cheese makes his stomach turn, but Baldur refuses to show it. He hates olives, but Sir likes them, so Baldur has to like them, too.

"But..." Sir hums, sitting back. His legs, kicked out on either side of Baldur, shift around behind him, locking his ankles to pull the boy closer, until he's pressed right up against the fabric of the chair. "You know what I mean."

Baldur has no idea whatsoever.

But he nods, slowly, keeping his eyes firmly focused on his Sir's face.

"I don't think I could afford it even if they did. Hell, for all I know the damn concept is already in place, and I'm just not rich enough or enough of the 'in group' to be offered." Sir laughs, a deep, rich, warm chuckle that runs like honey down Baldur's back, settles into his mind and smothers his thoughts. His eyes close as Sir pets fingers through his copper hair, shivering. He thinks he likes the touch.

He doesn't.

But he has to, so he does.

"Order one, keep it until I'm done with it, until you're too old, until you start to look your age... then send you back and get the next one. I'd pay for that kind of convenience, if I could. Which I can't. But wouldn't it be nice?"

These words, he knows. These words aren't honey - they are sharp and spiky, terror that has his eyes flying back open. He puts his hands on Sir's knees and shifts upwards, straightening his spine. "Sir? You... you would... send me back?"

The fear breaks through the daze he lives his days in, the only feeling he has with any strength anymore. He used to feel other things, he thinks, besides fear and the odd need that gets forced out of him. He's sure he did. Once.

"Oh, Baldur, darlin'." Sir sighs, as if he's being silly, a stupid little slut with no thoughts in his mind. He rubs a thumb along the line of Baldur's jaw, along his bottom lip, watches with amusement as Baldur tries to follow it, to somehow earn the forever that is supposed to be part of the promise of the program.

You signed up for this, and now you'll be taken care of.

"Sir..." He whispers, desperate for reassurance.

What he gets instead is Sir's smile, widening like a monster's until it feels too big for his face, and Baldur can only go still and silent as the glass is tipped against his mouth again, and the vodka burns down his throat and runs cold out of the corners of his mouth, trickling over his jaw and down his neck.

He chokes on it.

It's too much too fast, as much in his lungs as down his esophagus. He coughs, bent over with the force of it, and droplets spatter across Sir's pants and his shirt. Baldur's eyes burn, his heart pounds, and he gasps. "Oh... oh, no... Sir, I, I'm sorry-"

"Ssssshhhhh. It's all right, sweetheart, don't worry... it's all right..." Sir shakes his head. "It's okay, darlin'."

Baldur's mouth is trembling and he can't stop the little coughs that keep bubbling up, how his stomach flips and drops. He can't throw up. He can't. He'll be whipped bloody if he does, he always is when he throws up. His fingers tighten into Sir's pants until his knuckles are white as he fights the violence his stomach keeps threatening.

Sir waits, patient as a tiger watching prey take a drink at a stream, fingers moving gently through Baldur's hair, again and again.

Only when Baldur goes quiet, finally getting his body until control, does Sir murmur, "I wonder who'll find you when I'm done, and what they'll do to you, then."

His smile is soft and sweet and Baldur stares up into his eyes helplessly, hating every single second. This time, it's the vodka bottle that he forces against Baldur's lips. It's pure clear burn that he has to swallow. The world dips and spins around him, but his heart keeps racing.

"... I wonder," Sir says, voice nearly a whisper, "How long you'll live when I don't want you anymore."

-

God, I'm so glad that guy is dead now.

[larsisfrommars]

Halsin Whump Audio

BG3 Soundboard of Suffering part 1

Gale (part 2)

No HP/Entangled/Immobilized

Effort and Heavy Breathing

Encounter With Orin

Taking Damage/Death Screams/Falling

Shudders, Moans, Groans

Coughing & Gasping

Crying

[moyashidoodles]

Box whump!!!! I’ve posted so much fluffy dumb shit recently it’s been a while since I’ve done anything less silly. So here you goooooooo. An AU where Wyll is a pirate or sailor and is hired to escort Cazador on a trip but he brought a BOX. Oohhhh I wonder what’s insideeeeee. Thank you Wyllstarion discord, I appreciate you all <3 I got the scenario from a discussion there. I’m no writer, I just make pretty pictures.

Almost done with the last commission on my list, I’ll open up some emoji spots soon.

[astarioffsimpmain]

Won't Lose You

Astarion x GN!Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: This kind of became...whump? Whumpfort? It's angsty but with fluffy comfort at the end, and even a sprinkle of humor.

Synopsis: After your victory against the Netherbrain, you wake up without Astarion beside you. With the curtains opened and the sunlight streaming in, you fear the worst.

Author's Note: I FINALLY finished it, @icybluepenguin !!! 🥰 Thank you so much for your gift, and I hope you enjoy mine to you!

It was over, and all it cost him was his life in the sun.

Trance did not find him easily that night, but not for the reasons he was accustomed to. His arms tightened around your bare body, sleep having taken you hours ago. Sure, he had felt the sun burning his waxen skin for the first time since he escaped Cazador's grasp once the brain was defeated, but it hadn't lasted too very long, what with you sacrificing your cloak to him in an instant, draping it around his shoulders and casting darkness to hide him from the light.

Because of you, he had remained a part of your happy band of misfits in the sun and had been able to participate in the following celebrations. Although he'd never admit it to anyone but you, he had enjoyed watching Gale’s feeble attempts at dancing and the product of Karlach's endless stream of beer. But what he enjoyed most was being by your side. If you hadn't given him care enough to keep him safe, he would have had to depart your little festivities early and wait for the dark to come. He shuddered at the thought of being thrust back into an icy loneliness after all the warmth he had known. He wasn't sure he would have survived it.

But he shook those thoughts away with a turn of his head and burrowed his nose into your hair, breathing in the lather you both shared in the bathroom earlier in the evening. This made him smile; reminded him of why sleep would not come. He had been tangled up in you all night; experiencing you, touching you, loving you, and being loved in return. Your touch was soft, but it demanded a measure of kindness to himself that he had never known, and at times, it would overwhelm him. But you were patient, so endlessly patient with him, and you let him come to you, your arms open and waiting for him to trust you, and trust you he did.

He had trusted you for a long time now, despite every instinct he had telling him not to. He had trusted you to keep him safe, then to keep him fed. Even later down the road, he trusted you to let him choose, then he trusted you to set him free, and finally, after many trials and hard days bleeding into hard nights, he had trusted you to show him how to be loved, and you had not let him down. Not once. He was free, he was fed, and he was loved, and gods, he was giddy about it. The prospect of a whole new life with you was so intoxicating that he felt like he was floating off of the mattress, and his undead heart did phantom flips in his chest.

In the hours since the tadpole had been removed from his brain, he had felt his vampiric strength begin to return to him. As he laid with you, he clenched and unclenched his fingers, feeling unmistakably stronger than he remembered being even before the tadpole. "Perhaps it's simply because I no longer starve," he thought to himself as he took to admiring his fingernails in the dimly lit room. "Are they longer than before?"

He let his hand fall and turned his head to the side to gaze out into the night sky. You had insisted on closing the thick drapes over the window in case he fell asleep, but the moment he felt your breathing even out against him, he'd wrenched them back open. You had taught him to appreciate the moon again by your love of it. For the longest time, even before the possibility of the ritual was presented to him, he had worried that you would abandon him in favor of the sun. Not too long ago, he would have done so to you, and the thought never ceased to eat away at him. But you assured him over and over that the moon was your beacon, not the sun, and him, your North Star.

And when the comfort of the light abandoned him, you kept your word. Now, he couldn't imagine giving you up for anything. You were his sun. He would never need anything else. He smiled to himself as you snuggled closer to him in your sleep. With your warmth pressed against him, he found himself relaxing into a state of comfort he didn't realize he was still capable of, and he drifted into a blissful, peaceful trance in your arms.

Light pooled on your eyelids as you woke, warming your face with its rays, and you stretched, barely conscious of the world around you. Belatedly, you threw your arm to the other side of the bed, expecting to feel Astarion's cold body there beside you, as you had for the last several months. When you felt only bed sheets beneath your palm, you cracked an eye open, and your sleep-addled mind began to catch up with you all at once. "Ast- Star?" You mumbled incoherently, your mind beginning to race as you rubbed your eyes. The final battle. The Netherbrain. The sunlight burning beautiful pallor skin. Casting darkness. It came back to you in flashes and your heartbeat thumped ominously in your chest as you sat up and finally took in the open curtains of the window near to you, and the empty spot in the bed beside you.

A full-bodied panic arose with in you, and you pressed a firm hand against your chest as you called his name brokenly into the empty room. "Star? Star?!" Your voice cracked and your hands patted furiously across the side of the bed where his body should be laying, and altogether at once you found your reason and forced yourself up to run to the bathroom of your room, praying he had opened the curtains for you and then ducked away to take a bath before you rose. You prayed to as many gods and goddesses as you could name in the short number of steps from the bed to the bathroom door, but your heart stuttered to a near stop when the door creaked open and your lover was not there.

You clapped a hand over your mouth to keep in the sudden wave of nausea that overtook you as the thought came crashing down all around you. 'He wouldn't have gone to sleep with the curtains open. He wouldn't. He wouldn't do that. Not after everything. Not after-' "Oh, goooods." You wailed, stumbling back into the bedroom and nearly ripped the curtains closing them. A heartsick sob burst from your lips as you fell to your knees in front of the empty bed, raking your hands over it again and again as if to summon him into it. "Astarioooooon," you moaned, your face meeting the bed as you wept, continuing to pray that he had left you in the night instead, preferring that to the alternative.

A small, high pitched squeaking sound pierced your ears, but you couldn't find yourself to be bothered with it, any vermin in the room with you a small, insignificant intrusion upon the altar of your grief. You fisted the bedsheets and clenched them hard in your hands, taking shuddering breaths as you tried to reach another conclusion. In the meantime, the squeaking became louder and louder until you were forced to raise your head and meet its source: a small, white bat had crawled to you from under the covers of the bed, its furry head cocked to the side as it stared at you with beady red eyes. You sniffled, staring back at the bat, which seemed only to have eyes for you. It crawled ever closer until it reached your white-knuckled hands and stretched its wings over them as if to hug them.

You blinked hard, willing the tears away enough to observe the bat better. 'How did this little guy get in here?' You wondered as it crawled up your arm gently, only taking repose once it reached the crook of your neck and nestled close. "Wait," you paused, fingers already tenderly trailing over the bat's fur. "You came in when Astarion left, didn't you? He's alive, isn't he?!" You cried, and when the bat squeaked, almost in response, you let out a delirious laugh that then morphed into a choking sob. Elation and despair mixed as it sunk in. 'He's alive. He left me.'

You twisted to lay your head against the side of the bed, and the bat took flight, leaving to fly somewhere behind you. You didn't look. You couldn't move. The memories of you and Astarion were playing like a carousel in your mind; each touch, every kiss, all of his gleaming smiles, and heart-wrenching tears. You couldn't live a life without him, not after all you'd gone through to finally find one another. Did he still resent you for urging him not to ascend? Your heart clenched as you remembered the betrayal in his eyes when you had not given in to his desire for power. He didn't speak to you for an entire day afterward. You had been a mess; but nothing compared to what you were now.

Your hands shook as you brought them up to your face. “He said everything was alright. He said he was glad.” You murmured into your palms softly, brokenly. But was it? You heaved suddenly, but all that emerged was a desperate sob. He was gone. How would anything be alright ever again? Your thoughts swirled as you leaned against the mattress, face buried between your fingers. So loud was its pain that you missed the faint popping sound from behind you.

“...darling?” A soft voice whispered in your ear, and you choked, your head whipping behind you in the direction of sound; that voice, so achingly familiar.

“Astarion?” You croaked weakly as your eyes fell upon your pale lover's own.

“My love,” he cooed gently, his face contorted in pain.

“A-Astarion?!” You cried, turning to him and launching yourself at him. He caught you swiftly and pulled you into his arms, cradling you against his chest while you sobbed in relief.

“I- I don't know how it happened.” He sputtered. “I… I fell into trance and woke up as-”

You sniffled, wiping your eyes as it dawned on you. “-as a bat?”

“Well…yes, as a bat.” He replied dumbfoundedly as he continued to stroke your hair and cheek. “It must be a product of my vampiric powers returning since the tadpole is no longer…well, sucking them away.”

“I thought- “

“I know. I heard. I'm so sorry, darling.”

You sniffled again, shaking your head as if to send the thoughts away, and pulled closer to your lover, burying your face into the cold skin of his bare chest. After several moments of quiet calm, you let out a small chuckle.

“Darling?” Astarion asked tentatively.

“You're really cute as a bat.” You chittered quietly, and Astarion huffed out a laugh.

“I am beautiful and majestic in every form, my little love.” he crooned in your ear, and you smiled, your crusted cheeks pulling taut with the movement.

“You certainly are.” you replied, then fell silent for a moment before chuckling again.

“Yes, darling?” Astarion asked playfully.

“If your clothes didn't shrink with you when you became a bat, where did they go?” You snorted softly, running your hand up and down his bare side.

“Gods if I know, but if you know what's good for you, you won't take this opportunity for granted.” He replied cheekily, and you giggled, pulling away from his chest - with great effort, as your skin had somewhat fused upon drying off.

“I love you, Astarion.” You whispered, meeting his ruby red gaze.

He cupped your cheeks tenderly and held your eyes. “I love you too, darling. I will not abandon you. Not for death, not for the sun, and not for fear. I am not angry with you. Gods, I'm the happiest I can remember ever being.” His eyes narrowed, and one eyebrow shot up. “You'd have to well and truly fight me til death if you wished to remove me from your side.”

Then you laughed, full and sweet, and leaned in to press your lips to his. “Well then,” you mumbled against them. “It's quite the relief that I have no plans of ever getting rid of you, hm?”

“I'd say so, little love.” He replied before leaning in to capture your lips once more. One of his hands crept to the back of your head to keep you in place and the other made its home at your hip, pulling you flush against him and squeezing the skin there as he deepened the kiss.

You moaned softly into his mouth and let your arms twine around his neck, but pulled away before he dove any further. “Hey, Astarion.” you mumbled against his mouth.

“Mm?” He hummed, his eyes lust blown and lidded.

“Can you turn into a bat next time we have a bath together? The tubs in this inn are really quite small…”

“Oh, gods.” He rolled his eyes, and you laughed, pulling him back in and kissing his face until it went red. He would never live this down, but he was not sure he minded all that much; not if it was you.

♡♡♡

fin

[starsspiral]

Everyone simultaneously agrees that Gale doesn't have abs, we all know hes a chubby king but do you think he'd feel inadequate because of it? For Tav or anyone else really, everyone there is generally in shape or at least very lean and slim. Do you guys think he'd feel embarrassed about it? Try to change it? If he does illusion abs on himself do you think that one time Astarion catches him and has to convince him that hes enough? That having a six pack is, shocker, not what he loves Gale for?

[red-dead-sakharine]

Hubris

He conquered eight layers of Baator, and yet his ambition saw no end. When he invaded the ninth, he bit off more than he could chew...

If only he had stopped at eight. If only, he had not let ambition cloud his judgment.

...the Fallen Prince

[autumnlassitude]

The Devil pulls the strings which make us dance.

[astarion-my-beloved]

"The smell of charred flesh wafts over you..."

[etoilehistoire]

Headcanon: vampires don't need to breathe, except to speak. Their bodies don't require oxygen, and they won't die without it.

However. They want to breathe.

Remember how Astarion said vampires can't die of starvation, but they can starve? Just endless hunger that never kills you? Yeah. Like that. The lungs scream for air, the panic sets in, that urgent need for oxygen, except... you don't actually need it. You'll survive without it. You can even function without it, if you could calm that wild instinctive panic racing through your body. It's just going to hurt. And keep hurting. With no end in sight, no relief even from death or unconsciousness.

...hey, apropos of nothing, remember how Astarion had to dig his way out of his grave? Remember that year he spent in the tomb? Yeah.

Yeah.

[cyberneticfire]

Muzzles likely made frequent appearances for mongrels...

[larsisfrommars]

Gale Whump Audio

BG3 Soundboard of Suffering part 2

Halsin (part 1)

No HP/Entangled/Immobilized

Effort/Heavy Breathing

Taking Damage/Death Screams/Falling

Shudders, Moans & Groans

Coughing/Gasping

Crying

[inkivaarinensart]

Shame on a martyr

[tomurakii]

My last post about bloodweave was pretty negative (though necessarily so imo) so I wanted to talk about the little things about the bloodweave dynamic that I DO like and want to see more of in fic (under the cut).

- the orb means Astarion can't start their relationship transactionally. Gale can't give Astarion blood, and also can't have sex with him (and presumably would refuse casual sex anyway). How would the relationship develop without Astarion being able to rely on the give-and-take, forced instead to just trust Gale will watch his back? Astarion isn't a plans guy, I imagine having to come up with something on the spot (considering none of the other companions are reeaaaally an option either) would lead to a lot more emotional vulnerability as he tries to take a route he has much less experience with. Not to mention that the flirty and standoffish front isn't exactly going to endear him to Gale, who approves of the capable, loyal, and righteous. How long can Astarion pretend to be invested in Gale's wellbeing before it becomes true?

- they both have bad ascension endings, but different natural outcomes. Gale is considered the more morally upstanding one, but in their solo states (without the player's influence) Gale will go through with ascension and Astarion won't. Would they goad each other on? Gale disapproves of Astarion's ascension, using arguments that could apply to himself about the personal sacrifice and loss of the soul. Would Astarion flip them around, become defensive? Their dynamic could mean the power hungry character ending up discouraging the pursuit of godhood, or the two of them hurtling over the edge together. Or, maybe, Astarion encouraging Gale to ascend and having to trust him to return.

- they're the party members with the most life experience, and they're also both pretty well-educated (even if Astarion's law qualifications may well have expired by the events of the game). He spent his time under Cazador sewing (like Gale in his Baldur's Gate epilogue) and learning languages (of which Gale knows four). They have enduring common interests beyond their circumstances. Gale can help Astarion rediscover the latent nerd potential he lost when he died, and lord knows he would love to pick his brain for a first hand account of the mid-to-late 12th century.

- Astarion recently regained hope for his future when the tadpole freed him, Gale recently lost all of it. While act 1 is a continuous series of positive discoveries for Astarion (tadpole frees him from cazador -> ceremorphosis is held off by the dream visitor -> tadpole can be controlled), Gale's life gets worse with time as his treatment stops working. It's a dynamic that could give Gale hope, force Astarion to practise empathy, or put them completely at odds.

- Astarion's all-encompassing desire to reclaim his life could be inspiring to Gale. Moreover, I imagine seeing just how passive Gale is about his death would infuriate him. To have so little regard for his real, mortal, free life? It's a great source of angst, and also a great starting point for Gale to start wanting to live again. Because after learning about Astarion's past he would agree, he'd recognise how much value a mortal life was supposed to have. He'd think himself ungrateful or impolite for entertaining the idea of throwing it away when Astarion would give anything to have what he had. This would lead to guilt, and potentially self-loathing, unless someone was there to help pick up the pieces.

- If Astarion meets Oblodra before Gale's act 2 romance scene, (or for a fanfic plot, just before Gale is confident enough to confess) they most likely won't have sex until the graveyard scene in late act 3 (or the post-ascension equivalent). It means that rather than the fuckfest we so often see from bloodweave fics, the relationship is almost entirely a slow-burning, emotionally intimate affair. I'd really love to see that play out, the progression from semi-horny yearning on both parts as the orb keeps them apart, to two love confessions that are followed by the both of them experiencing non-sexual intimacy for the first time in years. I doubt Mystra was one to hug her chosen, after all, or hold their hands.

I just love a bg3 ship that forces the characters to take different actions than they do in canon. It makes me feel like I'm developing a broader understanding of the characters, you know?

[starsspiral]

how do u guys think Gale would act while sick?? would he be dramatic or because of his past do you think he'd hold it in? Try to push through without alarming anyone.

Maybe he's more quiet than usual, less rambling on missions would definitely make Astarion wonder. How long until he figures it out and starts scolding him...

so many fics could be written alas i am no writer.

[red-dead-sakharine]

Tickles - Part 2

Raphael x Tav, RaphaelPOV, soft!raphael, gn!tav, whump

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 & 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Raphael looked at Tav, resting his head on the bed. They gently stroked his hair. Fingers brushing his temples. Wandering over his scalp, tracing the base of his horns. He sighed and closed his eyes. He was past caring how his body betrayed him.

He felt the bed dip slightly as Tav shifted their weight to lean forward. A gentle kiss appeared on his forehead. He wrinkled his brow. He didn't know what to do with this.

He's lived for eons and experienced so many things, so many situations. But he's never experienced this. He liked it. He hated that he liked it. It was soft. Too soft. This sort of thing had no place in hell. He frowned.

"What's wrong?" he heard Tav ask. Damn them. Damn them for picking up on his every little reaction like that.

"Nothing." he lied.

He didn't want them to stop. He wanted to remain in this moment. This impossible moment, that had no place here.

There was no follow-up question. His little mouse knew not to prod. Good.

But the touches were gone. The kisses were gone. He opened his eyes - Tav was still there, looking at him with a questioning, worried expression.

"I'm sorry", they said. Whatever the hells for? "that I used Haarlep - your body - without you knowing or permitting it."

He frowned again. To him that was a far lesser crime, than bringing this softness into hell. And he blamed Haarlep more than Tav for the use of his body. The incubus had every opportunity to change shape but chose not to, after all.

He said nothing. He didn't know what. Tav looked at him, searching his eyes, his face for... something. They looked sad. Why did they look sad? This was the best moment of his life!

Tav got up. "I'm sorry." They started crawling off the bed.

No, no, no, this was going all wrong! What should he do!? What should he say!? He has never been this lost.

He grabbed Tav's wrist. Firmly. Aggressively. It was the only way he knew how. "Stay." he commanded in a voice that brooked no refusal. Tav's demeanor changed. From sad and caring to alarmed and frightened. That's not what he wanted. He let go of their wrist. They stared at him, uncertain and worried.

He stared back. Lost. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know soft. Not genuine soft. He knew how to fake it. He knew how to seduce a signature out of someone, but he didn't know how to express this... this. He had no word for it.

Tav slowly got up and shuffled away. When they were sure he wouldn't pounce on them, they turned and left.

He watched them go, screaming internally for them to stay. To teach him how to do soft. But he didn't say a word. The boudoir has never been this quiet.

He was filled with dread,

for he was left alone in his bed.

👉 Part 3

[podcastenthusiast]

So did they get rid of this early access scene where Astarion starts to get sick from the parasite too?

I'm guessing the same night Tav has a fever and Lae'zel tries to kill you. Because I love it. It's such a good scene but it's never come up in game. :(