#been binging bg3

[ragingdumpsterfire]

if dangerous, why hot then

[constant-brain-fog]

This is for Bing Bong, my beautiful baby boi ✊😔

I need Larian Studios to make Bing Bong a familiar you can get 🙏 I think it woulf fix me <3

[buglaur]

gael's spooky day costume

[alibonbonn]

Odysseus pics to make up for all the classicstober i've missed

[froggyfeetsies]

I was thinking about all the beautiful fics and fanart of tavs giving astarion a drawing of himself, and had to make myself sad thinking how that’s all he will have left of us one day. so here’s my fix it to the psychic damage I did to myself ✨

[nohtora]

anyway now that the game fixed the weird half-elf whitewash bug, behold my tav .....

[hesperidia]

im not immune to baldurs gate cute vampire rogue

[satorugojoswiife]

scared for the new chapter this week 😔

[the-crow-cryptids-domain]

SHE'S LIKE A BIG GOLDEN RETRIEVER THAT'S ON FIRE I WANT TO HOLD HER HAND SO BAD!!!!

[kazroze]

i dunno when i'll get back to posting, tumblr (both the site and the userbase) has been really annoying me lately so... see you soon, hopefully?

[hollow-object]

I am not immune to characters calling me pet in video games and I feel very exposed, stop that (please for the love of what's holy do it more and make it kinkier)

[priestblaster-moved]

SORRY but i MUST post these

[felassan]

Michael Douse (Larian): "I’ve been playing Dragon Age: The Veilguard in complete secrecy (behind my backpack at the office in front of a giant window, in the kitchen). From me, you may be wondering “is this a game compatible with my experience during BG3” so I’ll tackle it from that perspective. The answer is yes. It is to a heavy, 9 season long show what a well-made, character driven, binge-worthy Netflix series is. It has a good sense of propulsion and forward momentum. The combat system is honestly brilliant (to me, a mix of Xenoblade & Hogwarts which is giga-brain genius). It knows when it needs a tentpole narrative moment, and it knows when to let you toy around with your class and exploit some of its stronger elements. More important, to me, it feels like the first Dragon Age game that truly knows what it wants to be. In short, if you want some character driven romping with a strong combat system in a universe you know, love, or have heard of, it is much better than the average action game, and much less heavy than the gargantuan RPGs that may intimidate at times. In a word, it’s fun! To me, I’m extremely happy BioWare gets to stick around - presumably - in these uncertain (because of moronic corporate greed) times. An existential game, and a fun one at that." [source]

[mclarenviolet]

All Things End

Astarion x GN!Reader

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death, blood and trauma, BG3 spoilers

WC: 500+

A/N: Big Act 3 spoilers in this one for those that haven't finished Astarion's questline!! The Hozier theme continues, titled after All Things End (anyone else been binge listening to Unreal Unearth the last two weeks?🥺)

The torches of Cazador's dungeon cast an eerie glow upon the blood-slicked floor, the distinct, coppery scent lingering in the air, a reminder of the fierce battle that had just taken place. Astarion stands over Cazador's corpse, chest heaving and body aching from the fight, mind whirring as he struggles to comprehend that his former master is truly gone. But his eyes are not fixed on the aftermath of the battle, they're fixed on you.

You lay on the ground, your breathing shallow and your features pale. Astarion feels numb as he rushes to your side, his fingers trembling as he reaches out to touch your cheek, relief flooding his senses as he feels your warmth. "By the gods, you can't leave me like this." his voice laced with an unfamiliar desperation.

He'd always been drawn to you, captivated by your beauty, your spirit, the way you always faced danger head-on. But now, as he watches you so close to slipping away, he realises just how deep his feelings run. The fear of losing you almost paralyses him, igniting a fire within him that he had long denied.

Gently cradling your head in his lap, he brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering as he traces the curve of your cheek. "I've been a fool," his voice cracking with emotion. "A complete fool to deny what's been in front of me all along."

The torchlight reveals vulnerability in his crimson eyes. He takes a deep breath, his chest tightening as he lets his guard down. "I care for you more than I thought possible," he confesses. "Your strength, your courage, your unwavering belief that I am more than just some wretched spawn.. you've bewitched me in a way I never expected."

He closes his eyes for a moment as he gathers his thoughts. "I've spent so long hiding behind my own darkness, using it as an excuse to push others away," he continues, his voice growing stronger. "But you, you've shown me that there's more to life than the shadows. You've given me a reason to fight, a reason to believe I can be so much more than just Cazador's slave."

Astarion leans down, his lips hovering over your forehead, his breath mingling with the cool dungeon air. "I don't want to waste any more time pretending," he whispers, his voice a tender caress. "I love you darling, as much as my undead heart could possibly love someone."

The weight of his confession lifts from his shoulders, replaced by a sense of liberation. The feeling of your limp body in his arms reminds him just how truly fleeting life can be, a feeling that hasn't troubled him for over 200 years. He isn't willing to let his chance at happiness slip through his fingers any longer.

A faint smile tugs at the corners of your lips, as if your unconscious self can sense his words. Astarion presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his heart swelling with a newfound sense of purpose. "I'll protect you, no matter what," he vows softly, his voice a promise that echoes through the night as he cradles you closer, cherishing the sound of your gentle heartbeat.

A/N: Okay so the original plan was to kill off the reader but I literally couldn't bear to put Astarion through any more pain 🥺 Any feedback appreciated as usual, thank you for reading 💕

[loveandfictionforall]

Hello im on a bg3 binge and i found your stellar writing! My request is a little interesting, how about the crew with a ranger who’s been “blessed” by a nature god with beastly vigor(regeneration), incredible sense of smell, communicate with beasts, and has retractable bone claws? (Yes essentially wolverine)

I wasn't sure who exactly you meant, so I just wrote some general ones about everyone.

- Halsin would be proud to be a member of your crew. He would want to prowl with you as animals through the forest and would be deeply honored to walk beside a blessed child. He feels like you especially could understand the burden of their God.

- Astarion would notice your power. It would draw him in at first, after all you were a sight to behold and on your side he would win most battles. But after some times he wouldn't be able to just use you. Somewhere along the lines he began being proud to be a member of your crew, caring in shadows because he can understand the negatives of your power. Just like a slave to another.

- Karlach would love to ride on you once. I mean, in your beast form of course. But beside that, she loves formidable leaders and gladly follows your lead through this unusual quest.

- Wyll would care for your pain. Oversensitive senses can hurt a lot and to be able to heal very quickly was nice on the outside but through how much pain did you have to go on your regular day? He would be worried about the side effects or risks of being blessed, but can understand why you did it - after all he did also a pact.

- Shadowheart would be torn. You cared and worked for another god and that is a thought she doesn't like but also to be blessed by a god is a big honor and something she wants to achieve too.

- Lae'zel likes your power and strength. She will gladly walk along your side so long you are making the good choices, after all she doesn't care for any god.

- Gale would feel like you could understand his burden. He would talk to you a lot (whether you want to talk about it or not). Often he would ask for details, wanting to understand but also gain maybe a new power.

[thevesuvianchronicles]

Burnt Amber

I was reading something the other night about the fact that in the dark the cones in our eyes legit can't respond to light like, at all. considering my recent bg3 binge that obviously got me thinking abt a certain sassy vampire and thus... this piece. (I've also been told there's a scene that could go along with this but I legit just got to act 3) enjoy!

spoilers for vague bg3 things

If he had to explain it - which he never would- the world lost its color. Many people looked back upon childhood so happily, everything had been brighter, the world bigger, love was so easy and quickly fleeting. A babe’s eyes opened to blurry yet vivid shades, pastels, and tints. Yet the first thing Astarion’s crimson eyes had seen was only the darkness of his own coffin. Color meant nothing to a vampire who’s first vivid memories consisted of clawing his way through six feet of funerary dirt.

Though his vampiric vision allowed him to make out the different threads on a rich man’s lapel, he only ever saw it in moonlight. Only a reflection, a fraction of the beauty the sun would give the fabric. Where there had been pastels there was now muted tones, tinted colors became gray, and shades became nothing but more inky darkness.

Centuries of this and he slowly began to forget the true colors the world had to offer. Was purple always so deep that one couldn’t discern where a sleeve ended and the night air began? Had yellow always seemed so dull? And red… had red always been so greedy? Soaking up and glaring back the same sick color he saw in Cazador’s eyes.

That’s all his vampiric life had been, that was all it ever would be.

Yet there he stood, watching the last of the sun’s rays dip below the horizon

Despite his suave demeanor and sweetened words, he knew how to woo someone, lure them into his bed with his body and honeyed words, and later back to his master. Yet no words could describe the sun now. It burned his irises, his eyes ached for him to blink, turn away, and do anything but stare into the sun. He simply couldn’t stop; it would take away his breath if he needed to breathe.

His first realization that color was far better within the sun was, rather unfortunately, Gale. Upon falling on his ass, Gale had done the wizardly thing and began rambling. However, Astarion wasn’t paying attention at all. His eyes were on Gale’s robe. He couldn’t remember a purple ever being so vibrant, so cocky almost, as if requiring you to look at it. It fit Gale as Astarion would come to learn. Then he saw purple everywhere. Balsam blooms carried but seemed a warmer tint of Gale’s robe. Shadowheart’s armor was even darker, matching that which Astarion saw late at night in the alleys of Bauldur’s Gate. He hadn’t really thought about it but he rather thought purple and red clashed. Leave it to that wizard from Waterdeep to be a walking fashion faux pas.

Yet despite the fashion error, Astarion couldn’t stop thinking about purple, the many different shades he had seen in a matter of days. The sun making the slightest variations more obvious to his crimson eyes.

He first realized that light is what made the colors so polluted, as if the colors were waiting to leach into his eyes when he couldn’t help but stare at the color yellow. It was, by far, not his favorite color, drawing too much attention of a rouge like himself.

Yet the golden glow of the divine seemed to suit Shadowheart. The brilliance of a guiding bolt whizzing past his ear, bathing a goblin in light, setting it ablaze. The disgusting color had saved his skin to many times to count by now. All thanks to the devotee’s hands.

The vampire couldn’t say he understood Shadowheart’s devotion. But the sheer power her belief brought the color yellow, made him quirk a brow. Such polluting brillance made him wonder if light was able to redeem every color.

The color followed him after that battle. Yellow licked at Karlach’s flames, light reflected off the golden threads of Halsin’s armor, it even sparked every time Lae’zel sharpened her sword.

Yet there was nothing that could redeem the color red. No amount of light or dark could make crimson look any better. In darkness it looked like a cesspool of all things evil, an open maw waiting to swallow whatever it could. In the light of day, it reminded him of nothing but lost souls, glowing red eyes, and a sickly grin.

It was the color Cazador liked most on him, both his clothes and his skin. It was the color his life had been reduced to. Living off such crimson ichor, so much so that it stained him, stained even his eyes from what he had gathered about vampiric looks. It was the only color that he would be happy to forget, but never could.

“You know if you stare at the sun long enough… you could go blind.” The voice came from behind him, his pointed ears finally picking up on the crunch of gravel beneath feet. His eyes did feel a bit dry as he blinked, black and swirling colors hindering his vision as he looked back over his shoulder.

The leader of their little group was… interesting to say the least. So focused on the tadpole and their companion's journeys that Astarion hadn’t learned much about their own personal goals, if any. He should work on that.

“I always love to look at beautiful things, not unlike yourself darling.” Astarion let the words lilt off his tongue, but didn’t turn away from the setting sun.

He heard a small hum from you as you settled beside him, standing close enough for him to tell that you had refreshed yourself from today’s adventuring.

Neither said anything for a while, the gentle rustle of trees and soft calls of animals in the underbrush the only noise. He had been so lost in his musings that he hadn’t realized how far the sun had set, a barely visible sliver of yellow still visible surrounded by orange and red.

“Well… now that the lovely colors are gone I do believe I’ll turn in for the night. A book and a glass of red do seem to be calling my name.” Astarion sighs, as if it would be a hassle to get up and walk the few steps to his tent. It is a hassle, to leave the presence of their leader has become more and more of a hassle on his heart than he’s willing to accept.

“Don’t go now, it’s just started to change.” Your voice was soft, softer than he has ever heard it and a glance tells him that your eyes are still on the setting sun.

“No thank you darling, I do think I’ve seen enough shades of red for a thousand lifetimes.” There is a twist of pain in his voice, one that makes him wrinkle his nose. He was getting too easy, a slip like that with Cazador and he would have been reminded how much he hates red.

“But the sky is beautiful-“

He cuts you off with a flippant wave of his hand and a scoff. A change of subject was all they needed, easier territory. “It’s just red. You know they say a red sky at night means-“

“It’s not just red Astarion.” You cut him short this time, tone sharp. He didn’t understand why you would defend such a color. Of all things to fight for, a color. They saw red spilled every day, every day their leader fought, for teiflings, for druids, for their companions. Each day that color ruined everything it touched.

“Oh? Do tell darling, what is oh so special about that distasteful mix of colors. A muddled mess of all things awful-“

“I rather think red is beautiful.” Astarion snaps his eyes up, disgust curling his lips, a flaunting jab just ready on the tip of his tongue when your eyes stop him.

At some point, he wasn’t sure when, you had turned to look at him. Eyes just as soft as your voice had been. There is a sweet tilt to your lips as he turns, as if finally seeing what they had been after.

He sees the minute shift of you eyes, as if darting back and forth. He can hear the uptick in your heartbeat, the tension releasing from your shoulders. As if the sight of him was what you were after, as if waiting to catch his eye.

Then he remembered. Remembered exactly what color his eyes now were.

“I happen to like that color.” You grinned, eyes steady on his. His mind was blank, no haughty taunt or seductive words. He could do nothing but blink as a grin spread wide on your lips and you turned back towards the sun.

“When the sun hits just right… it’s beautiful, a burst of burnt amber. I think it’s the prettiest color I’ve ever seen.” Astarion knew they were definitely not talking about the sunset anymore. He couldn’t help but stare at you. The curve of your nose, the way your smile seemed so giddy, the way the sun reflected in your own eyes.

Red was the color of the flowers Karlach had tried to pick for all of them. It was the color the jewels in Lae’zel’s armor, the color the hem of Gale’s awful robe. And it was the color of the blood you so willingly gave him. Had offered as soon as he had explained himself that night, without asking for anything in return. You were so different than what he expected.

He tutted, realizing he had been staring and turns back towards the sunset, listening closely as you go to sit on the ground. The bright yellow of the sun diffused into a russet orange that slowly eased into a vibrant, dazzled red. He sighed, slowly settling himself beside you, far closer than before.

“Yes darling, perhaps you’re right. Perhaps I could grow to love it.”