#baulder's gate 3

[featherwurm]

Thinking about the line below from Karlach - about the smell of fresh laundry reminding her of her mum, in context of just settling in at Elfsong. How's about getting a nice freshly laundered bedsheet for the first time in who knows how long and then dealing with the weird ways that grief creeps up on you and punches you in the throat goin'?

[starrypawz]

I clicked on a mirror as Halsin for funsies and now I'm feeling some sorta way about it

[volno]

the fact that Githyanki is the least picked race for Tavs is a fucking crime, because they have some of the funniest dialogue choices available and my current run is unintentionally hilarious because of it. Here's some personal highlights from act one:

[moonmaiden1996]

A Christmas Cure

Inspired by the fact I have been a little down lately and not really in the festive cheer, but I know our favourite vampire would make it all better.

Astarion wasn’t one for festive cheer. In fact, he found the whole thing rather absurd—humans and their endless traditions of garlands, sweets, and glittering lights. It was all so pointless. Once, in another life, he might have adored it. He dimly recalled moments from his mortal years—glimpses of a hearth decorated with care, laughter echoing through halls adorned with holly. But those memories had long since been buried under centuries of Cazador’s tyranny. To Astarion, Christmas was an insane tradition, only good for an easier prey of a lonely peasant he could take back to his Master. And now it was one holiday he had wholeheartedly refused to partake in.

But then there was you.

The first time he’d seen you throw yourself into Christmas preparations, he had scoffed at the ridiculousness of it all. Yet, as you hummed carols and dragged him into every festivity imaginable, your joy proved utterly infectious. Somehow, the way your face lit up as you hung baubles and baked cookies made it impossible for him to remain aloof.

This year, however, was different. You had been a little down but nothing Christmas could not pull you out of...or so Astarion had thought...

The change had crept in gradually, like frost spreading across the grove outside your makeshift home. You didn’t hum carols under your breath. You hadn’t dragged him to pick out a tree or insisted on baking cookies while he groused about the mess. You’d done it all yourself this time, quietly, almost mechanically. The tree you brought home was thin and scraggly, and the decorations sat in their box, untouched. Save for a few sprigs of greenery, the cabin was seemingly devoid of Christmas cheer.

It wasn’t like you to lose your spark. And while Astarion often rolled his eyes at your endless enthusiasm, seeing you like this—dim, tired—left an ache in his chest.

He decided, begrudgingly, to take matters into his own hands.

-----------

It started with the cookies.

He unearthed a recipe from one of the dusty tomes you kept on the kitchen shelf and set to work with an air of determination. The flour exploded everywhere—somehow. Dough clung stubbornly to his fingers, the counter, and even his hair. After the fifth attempt to pry the sticky mess from a cutter, he flung the offending tool into a far corner of the room.

The results were... less than spectacular. The surviving cookies emerged from the oven burned—each one charred husk of what they should be.

When you wandered into the kitchen, drawn by the distinctly not right smell wafting through the house, you found Astarion standing there, apron askew, a tray of blackened cookies held out as though they were a prize.

“They’re… slightly overdone,” he said with forced cheer, a boyish grin tugging at his lips. “But entirely edible, I’m sure… Probably.” He cast a wary glance at the charred edges. “We’ll have Gale try them first, just to be on the safe side.”

You couldn’t help but laugh—your first genuine laugh in days.

-----------

The next day, he turned his attention to the tree.

He took one look at the spindly thing you’d brought home and declared it “an insult to the very idea of Christmas.” Without telling you, he ventured out into the woods, axe gripped firmly in his hand, determined to find something worthy.

Hours later, he returned, dragging a grand fir tree behind him like a victorious hunter parading his prize. Snow dusted his cloak and hair, and his smirk was as sharp as the axe he rested on his shoulder.

“That’s a tree,” you said, blinking.

“Yes, I am aware,” he said smugly. “A proper tree, unlike that poor excuse you brought home.”

The two of you wrestled it into the house, where he set to decorating it with flair. His choices were... eclectic. Baubles, ribbons, and strings of lights were hung in haphazard clusters, each arrangement more chaotic than the last.

When you teased him, he shrugged and said, “It’s art, darling. You wouldn’t understand.”

--------------

Next came the punch.

He knew how much you loved that ridiculous concoction of fizzy wine, cranberries, and oranges, even though he found it utterly baffling. He spent hours perfecting it, slicing oranges into perfect rounds and arranging cranberries on skewers like garnishes. The result was so absurdly over-the-top it bordered on comical.

When he handed you a glass, his grin was teasing but warm. “For you, my love. I present the pinnacle of holiday beverages.”

The taste was just as you remembered—bright and bubbly, a tiny spark of joy in an otherwise gray season.

-------------

The crowning moment came on Christmas Eve.

Astarion swept into the room with an air of command, his silk shirt billowing dramatically around him.

“I have decided,” he announced, “that a proper feast is in order. And I will not tolerate any objections.”

You blinked at him from the loveseat, where you’d burrowed under a blanket for most of the day. “A feast?”

“Yes, a feast,” he said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “What is the point of all this festive nonsense if no one is here to admire it? I’ve worked hard and deserve people to come gush over me. I’ve already sent word to the others. They will come.”

By the time evening fell, the house was alive with chatter and laughter. Shadowheart brought mulled wine, Karlach barreled in with s’mores kits and a charred bag of marshmallows, Gale arrived with a platter of enchanted pastries, and even Lae’zel grudgingly contributed a roasted pheasant she’d hunted that morning.

Astarion presided over it all with his signature flair, sipping wine with a theatrical flourish and making biting remarks that were just affectionate enough to avoid offense. He kept an eye on you throughout the evening, his gaze softening every time he caught you smiling.

When Halsin summoned mistletoe to hang from his belt and offered it to all with a booming laugh, Astarion glared daggers at the druid. “If you do not immediately remove that offensive weed and cease this farce, I will reconsider inviting you next year.”

By the time the feast ended, Astarion turned the guests out, citing “the desperate need for solitude” with his usual dramatic flair. Then he bundled you into your favorite chair and lit a roaring fire, its warmth chasing away the winter chill. Stockings hung over the mantle—stockings he’d secretly bought after overhearing your wistful remarks about them. One for you, one for him.

When you saw them, your eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

“I don’t know what to say,” you murmured, voice thick with emotion.

He stepped closer, taking your hands in his. His gaze, usually filled with mischief or scorn, was soft and open. “You don’t have to say anything. I just want to see you smile again.”

Later, as you curled up together, a blanket draped over your legs, Astarion held you close, his cheek resting against your hair.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“For what?” he asked teasingly. “For burning the cookies? For forcing you to endure my questionable decorating skills?”

“For trying,” you said, tilting your head to look at him. “For making me feel like Christmas again.”

He smiled—a rare, genuine smile that softened the sharpness of his features. “For you, darling, anything.” Then, with a roll of his eyes, he added, “Though if Halsin brings out that blasted mistletoe again, I may reconsider celebrating entirely.”

“It’s only mistletoe,” you said with a playful shrug. “It’s festive.”

“Hanging it from your belt and asking people to kiss you under it is not festive,” he retorted, his tone as dry as the charred cookies on the counter. His piercing gaze locked on you, exasperated yet brimming with affection.

You grinned. “I dunno, Lae’zel seemed interested.”

Astarion let out an exaggerated groan and threw his hands up. “Urghhh! This is exactly what’s wrong with the holiday! It’s not about peace on earth or goodwill toward men—it’s about how drunk you can get on someone else’s wine and how many partners you can bugger before the New Year! Hardly in the spirit of this bloody holiday.”

You couldn’t help it—the absurdity of his indignation, the overly dramatic flair of his gestures, it all sent you into a fit of laughter. It started as a giggle, soft and hesitant, but quickly grew into a full belly laugh, bubbling out of you uncontrollably.

Astarion froze, staring at you with wide eyes as if you’d just started glowing. Slowly, his expression softened, a mix of wonder and warmth flickering across his face. His lips curved into a smile—small at first, then full and genuine, like he couldn’t resist being swept up in your mirth.

He moved closer, kneeling by your side and brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch feather-light. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed that sound,” he murmured, his voice low and earnest.

Still giggling, you leaned into him, the weight of the past days lifting as you felt the warmth of his presence. Astarion wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as though anchoring you to the joy you’d rediscovered.

For a moment, the glow of the fire and the soft twinkle of the Christmas lights seemed to blur together, casting the room in a warm haze. You rested your head against his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear, and let yourself relax completely.

“Thank you,” you whispered again, your laughter subsiding into a contented sigh.

“Always,” he replied, his voice like a promise, his arms around you a comforting shield against the chill of the season.

LIKE. COMMENT. REQUEST.

I hope you enjoyed this little story, and if you have been feeling a little down, it has made you feel a little better or at least made you smile. Ps we all know Halsin would be that guy at a christmas party :p

Please remember that if you're feeling down this season, please reach out to someone or even message me ❤️❤️❤️

[xavalav]

I'm afraid to look within and find I've become the devil I appear to be.

happy end of wyll month! i spent a while working on this piece and it was actually inspired by this post :D

[willgrahamscock]

GAUNTLET OF SHAR | Astarion vs. Shadowheart.

[smolgloves]

Company

Masterlist

Summary: A friendly chat with our fiery friend back at the Emerald Grove.

Tw: No triggers, pure fluff!

Taglist: @sm0lprism @g-tr4sh @smolkuriboh27 @rose7420 @empressxmachina @guviii

“Hey soldier!”

Karlach's booming voice nearly made Freya drop her mortar. There was no way she was going to get used to being around larger beings and there was no way she could hide any discomfort of suddenly being approached by a giant barbarian who was eager to rush over. Karlach must've realized this because she skidded to a halt, lowering herself into a crouch. “Oh sorry, I forget you can be jumpy.”

“It's okay, this is new to both of us.” Freya smiled, setting her mortar and pestle down. “Did you need anything?”

“Oh no, I just saw you by yourself.” She hesitated for a moment. “Not that you can't handle yourself, but I'm surprised you're out in the open like this.”

Freya gave a shrug. “Well, the refugees are gone, the druids keep to themselves, and Halsin had promised to let every animal in the grove know that I am not a snack, I figured this was a nice tree stump to occupy for a bit of alone time.”

“Oh if you want, I can leave you alone!”

“Nah, I don't mind. I could use the company.” She took a seat by the edge. “Besides, I have to let the ointment sit for a minute before I put the next ingredients in.”

“Sounds like I came at the right time then.” Karlach replied with a chuckle; her eyes wandered to Freya's supplies, the tools absolutely miniscule compared to the brainy woman who towered above her. “Whatcha making anyways?”

“Oh, just a burn ointment for Gale; one of the goblins at that camp was a Warlock and threw a fire bolt at him. He'll have a nasty scar if I don't make this.”

“Oh that's why he was grumbling to himself earlier! I just thought he got a papercut.”

Freya let out a giggle. “I think he wears those injuries with more pride.”

“Very true.” Karlach chuckled along, her fiery eyes dropped down to the ointment. “Say, you must be pretty good at that if you're always making stuff. You learn that back at your colony?”

“Oh yeah, my mum taught me the basics.” She replied, scoping out the lush plants that sprouted amongst the ground. “But we've never had herbs like the ones in this Grove! We could've made so much more if we lived here.”

“This probably wouldn't be a bad place to set up, lots of plants and berries, crevices to make a home, and the druids seem nice… for the most part.”

“I won't lie, I thought about making a home here.” She admitted, her eyes dared to meet Karlach's and she could see the faintest bit of sadness on her face. Guilt began to clutch her heart. “It's as you said, this is a great place for borrowers, plus… my old colony wouldn't be far from here. I started to wonder, if something happened, perhaps it would be better if I was close by.”

“I wouldn't blame ya, you still have family over there.”

Freya gave a nod. “My cousin, yeah.” Her hands found their way back to the mortar and pestle, she grinded up the final bits into the pasty substance. “But even with my colony not too far away, I still would be alone here. I'm not sure that would be a way I want to live.”

“Oh no doubt about it!” Karlach exclaimed. “Being alone in Avernus was the worst. I think you're better off with us til you find some other tiny soldiers like you.”

“I absolutely agree.” Freya beamed. “I definitely feel safer with this indestructible tiefling nearby.”

That elicited a hearty chuckle from Karlach. “Oh, you're too adorable, I'd give ya a big ole squeeze if I could.”

There was no stopping the flustering heat that rose in Freya's cheeks, her eyes fell to the ointment she made. “Not too hard, I hope.”

“Of course not, I'd be very careful!” Karlach cleared her throat. “At least…I'd try not to, my old friend Fytz used to tell me that I would hug a little too hard sometimes.”

Sometimes, Freya had a hard time believing that this barbarian who fought in a literal war was one of the sweetest beings in this group. This woman had so much love to give, and yet, she had no way of giving any of her friends a simple act like a hug. Was this a cruel joke played by the gods? Whatever the reason, it served as a reminder for Freya to never take such simple intimacies for granted anymore. “Well, I think we have to hurry up and get that engine fixed, so I can see for myself.”

The smile on her face grew even brighter than the fire that burned within her body. “Soldier, you got yourself a deal.”

[catnipfelix]

[phoenix-disorder]

One of my favorite screenshots of Gale. My knight in shining armor.

[cylo]

when wyll sees my tav's new haircut for the final act.

[eesomepictures]

God's Favourite Princess and the Most Interesting Girl in the World

[featherwurm]

Karlach - Infernal Engine Exhaust Diagram

Thinking about diagrams* - maybe I'll go back in and do something more detailed later, but I was just thinking about connecting veins to exhaust. Gave her a dual cylinder engine this time, since it looks more like a heart than a single cylinder one. Also gave her short hair and two horns - probably not long after healing up from surgery. Whatever devil drew this had some hint of artistic interest, putting some detail into the face.

(Infernal script is just loose notes.

*I like diagrams. Maps too.

[starrypawz]

Thinking about that whole Gale screams in lower case thing makes me think of like Karlach trying to encourage Gale to scream to let it all out as it's really cathartic and might help she's like really trying to get him to go for it just give the biggest scream you can you know it's good for you

And he's just like >:o a!

[volno]

I can't seem to make fanart for this game unless it's also a shitpost.

[thecrazyandtheweird]

Seluné simply cannot for the life of her produce a heterosexual child., this is canon now

[lets-go-hurt-someone]

I guess there’s an alternative way to read it (there always is) but I actually think a Tav/Durge who kicks Ascended Astarion in the balls has managed the herculean feat of being way worse than the evil vampire lord.

It’s like this: you help him damn over 7,000 people to eternal torment in the hells, then agree to become his spawn. To celebrate, you guys have sex because now is the first time in months he feels safe enough to do so. And he feels safe with you, because you have always helped him, and he thinks you two are in agreement!

So after all that, you kick him in the balls and act like he’s the evil one?!

That’s an absolutely stone cold betrayal. Especially because it happens after sex. Especially if you think AA has just buried his trauma instead of healing from it! So to summarise… you assaulted your partner after sleeping with him under false pretences?! Cool, you just managed to make me take the evil guy’s side because that is way messed up.

Like damn, I would pitch a fit and leave too!