#bg3 musing

[twisted-in-the-wind]

Too much thought into Raphael's "Real" Plan

I think most people would agree that taking the Crown and just putting it on/hoping for the best sounds like a terrible, risky plan. I believe Raphael when he says that he's not a mortal and can take it but then what? Try to take the Weave from Mystra like Karsus intended to? I'm sure Mystra would have a plan to deal with this because she's not an idiot. It's also too obvious and not really as simple as getting the Crown in any case. To truly use the Crown to seize the Weave and control all magic, he would also need the spell Karsus's avatar which, assuming he found it, wouldn't work because of Mystra's capping of spells at Level 10. However, there might still be a way to give Raphael a boost in power that makes him nigh undefeatable. We encounter Karsus's journal in the game which contains his plans for the Crown. An intelligent man who was around and probably met Karsus, with his journal and the Crown could probably reverse engineer the Spell even if he couldn't get his hands on the original. I think, however, that Raphael knew or knows how to get it but that's just speculation. He says he knows multiple ways to get what he wants from people and I think this applies to most areas of his life. So, let's assume he gets the spell and the Crown, he still can't cast it because of Mystra's cap which she implemented to protect the Weave. However, there is a second, unregulated Weave, the Shadow Weave which is Shar's dark magic repository and what I would say is the Anti-matter version of regular magic. It's as powerful as Mystra's Weave and mostly untapped because of what a twat Shar is. If Raphael can modify or adapt the spell to seize Shar's divinity instead of Mystra's then he would have a lot of power to wield. I theorise as well that he can cast the spell in the Shadow Realm/Shadowfell which uses the Shadow Weave instead of Mystra's magic which would effectively get around the Level 10 restriction. If he can sieze power from Shar (who he's been weakening for many years by proxy) then he can...well, maybe, he'll be able to use it to infect and devour Mystra's Weave; the way Gale's bit of contaminated magic sought to devour it. If this comes to pass, even if he gets a portion of the Weave, he is already as powerful as Mystra. If he gets all the Weave, then he can control who can use magic and who can't, effectively crippling the Devils who rely on it. His father is obsessed with magic and experimentation so this would be a personal insult and blow to him. Effectively, Raphael would be using a magical artifact that Mephistopheles dismissed to seize the source of power for Gods and Devils alike. One hell of a coup d'etat. He could then, maybe, use that power to turn all of Earth into the Shadowlands where people die but their souls remain on Earth being no use to either Gods or Devils. This is very very speculative though since the lore doesn't state it definitively. Of course, this is all a series of assumptions with the expectation that everything goes according to plan. Raphael's arrogance, narcissism and trust issues mean that he will 100 percent overlook things in this process; it's hard to see individual flaws when you've been looking at the whole picture for too long. Anyway, this theory probably has a ton of flaws, if you spot one, it's okay to let me know. It's just for fun after all. https://forgottenrealms.fandom.com/wiki/Karsus%27s_Folly https://forgottenrealms.fandom.com/wiki/Karsus%27s_avatar https://criticalrole.fandom.com/wiki/Shadowfell https://bg3.wiki/wiki/The_Annals_of_Karsus

[alibonbonn]

A @corviiids tweet that is very important to me 🙏 I'm always thinking about spawn Astarion how he loves the sun

[fangswbenefits]

Astarion's writer 🩷

[telumendils]

my chaotic neutral tav after learning one (1) thing about vlaakith, shar, mizora, zariel, cazador, mystra, etc:

[alifelongpassed]

Just Zevlor things.

-exploring the grove.

[spikesbicth]

Got Love Sick All Over My Bed

Astarion x F!Reader!Tav

Summary: Astarion discovers Tav having a private moment in her tent.

approx 1.5k words

cross posted on ao3

CW: 18+ Minors DNI, smut, masturbation, maybe a tiny bit voyeurism but only if you squint. biting. vampires.

A/N: I am just in the inspiration train so I banged out (lol) this quick one shot. just feeling so creative! once again barely proofread so excuse any glaring issues. Feedback always appreciated :) enjoy!

The smell of smoke lingers on your hair and the clothes lying in a pile at the foot of your bedroll. This was a usual occurrence, as nearly every evening was spent at the fire with your companions, discussing the day and what was to come. Conversations often went in circles, regardless of what had happened that day you often felt you were no closer to safety, always in danger. During these nights, you often found your mind and your eyes wandering to Astarion, whose pale skin and sliver hair was awash with a golden glow from the firelight. He was always entrancingly beautiful, but in this light he was truly ethereal, otherworldly. You were awash with love for him, and yet at the same time completely unsure if he felt the same way or would stick around long enough for you to find out.

These memories and feelings swirl in your mind as you try to relax on the uneven ground. It was difficult to remove your doubtful thoughts of Astarion. In an effort to gain closeness to him, you had offered your neck and your blood to him. Over time, for yourself at least, it had become something you anticipated and desired each night; you wished to steal a kiss from him before the ritual. Tonight, you imagine more. You close your eyes, picturing the crescent of his collar bones under his loose silk shirt he wore each evening at camp. The spot where his jaw meets his neck. The feeling of his body pressing against yours, his broad shoulders and chest that narrow delicately to his waist, his hips, his hands…

Tonight you want him, you want what you know he is capable of doing to you. He is to meet you tonight, in your tent, after the others have settled in their own.

You have time though, don’t you…?

You feel blood rush to your pelvis, a slick arousal beginning to pool between your legs.

Unable to curb your desire you trail your cool fingers down your abdomen, pushing up goosebumps as you progress. Already naked under your blankets, you find your clit and begin to rub small circles, gentle and delicately at first. You imagine the smell of Astarion’s hair, sweet with bergamot…

You imagine the smell of Astarion’s hair while he kisses you and touches you the way you touch yourself. A light gasp escapes your lips as the image sends a jolt of energy through your body and you press harder with your fingers. You move on for a moment, pushing two fingers inside of yourself, slightly shocked at how wet you have become. You slip further into your fantasy, imagining Astarion cupping your breast while he fingers you, playing with your nipple, kissing your jaw and neck. Gods, you wish for it.

“Oh my… now what do we have here..?” A voice questions in the darkness at the entrance of your tent.

Your stomach drops, and your eyes jolt open.

Oh. Fuck. You think, feeling your cheeks flush. You in fact, did not have time for this before the object of your desires arrived at your stoop. How long had he been there?

“I… uh, hi,” you croak, your mouth slightly dry from the rhythmic breathing forced by your touch.

Astarion widens the slack door of your tent and lets himself in, an knowing grin across his face. He immediately sits beside you near your pillow. No matter how unreasonable, there was no doubt to you that he knew your pounding heart was beating for him. You sit up, pulling your blanket up to cover your bare chest, feeling unusually exposed in front of him tonight.

“Shall we?” He asks, ignoring what you felt to be the elephant in the room. Though you felt embarrassment, the idea of him watching you touch yourself made your clit pulsate and wetness continue to flow from within you.

“Oh, yes… of course.” You answer, trying to hide your arousal.

Astarion moves behind you, sitting with one leg on either side of you. This was not his usual approach to feeding, and you wonder what he is planning.

“Darling, do lean back for me,” he requests, his voice deep and velvety. You lay back, resting your bare back against him. Your heart continues to pound in your chest and at this point, you were more than certain he could feel it. You tilt your chin back looking up at home with wide eyes and meeting his crimson gaze. He leans forward, and you anticipate the joining of your bodies with his bite.

To your surprise, he lays a gentle kiss on your neck. You gasp, and blink, was this a dream?

“Is that alright, my dear?” he asks, his lips brushing your neck as he spoke. You nod yes, rendered speechless by his kiss. “May I continue?” he asks again, and you nod once more, moving a hand slowly to touch one of his legs.

His kiss meets your neck again, kissing slowly, his fangs only occasionally catching your skin rather than piercing it. You feel your throbbing heartbeat between your legs, as you feel the blanket you had pulled across your chest begin to slip down as you arch your back to allow Astarion more access to your neck. The cool air grasps your nipples and they grow dense and hard in response.

“Would you like to continue to touch yourself?” He asks.

Yes Gods, Yes. You wanted to. You wanted him to watch you. Still, the bewilderment you felt of these fantastical actions playing out squirmed at the back of your mind.

“Please… I do,” you affirm. You send your free hand back down to your folds, and find them even slipperier than they were before. The blanket falls further down your chest until your breasts are fully exposed and it only covers your hand working on your clit.

Astarion moves a hand to one of your breasts, continuing to kiss your neck and jaw. His cool touch sends lighting through your body.

Your clit throbs under your fingers, swollen and sensitive. As much as you desired these moments to last forever, there was certainly no way you would be lasting very long. Moaning and gasping in Astarion’s arms, you rub yourself hungrily.

It doesn’t take much more to reach your peak, bursting into orgasm suddenly. Your hips sway, and you clench rhythmically around nothing. Your back arches and you press the back of your head into Astarion’s shoulder.

Your neck now even more exposed, Astarion sinks his teeth into you, your rich, crimson blood flowing into his mouth. You burn in pain, and you close your eyes, submitting to him.

Eventually, the rush calms, and you are left a panting, bloody mess in Astarion’s arms. You look up to his face again, this time moving to meet his mouth.

You join in a passionate kiss, and he slides his tongue into your mouth. You taste your own blood in his mouth and relish in imaging how much he enjoys the taste of you.

It was an explosion of passion, nearly as satisfying as your orgasm mere moments before. His soft lips sliding against yours, his fangs occasionally catching, his tongue touching and sliding against your own.

You pull away for a moment, looking into his ruby eyes.

“How…?” you ask, unable to find the words to describe your confusion at the sudden encounter, almost a recreation of what had occurred in your mind only moments before his arrival.

Astarion opens his mind to you, psychically linking to yours through the tadpoles that swum in your brain. You needn’t see his thoughts to know what has happened. How could you be so naive, of course the tadpole. Of course. In your fit of sudden insatiable desire, you left yourself almost completely unattended. Anyone who was tadpole-afflicted that happened to be wandering by may as well had been broadcasted the images you had conjured in your mind.

Without words, Astarion interrupts your thoughts. You see into his own mind, and are flustered by what you see. The same feelings you hold towards him, the same desires, the same yearning, the same love - but all for you.

You sit up, turning to look at him straight on, completely at a loss for words. He had wished for this as much as you had. A gentle, warm smile spreads across your face.

“Will you… stay with me tonight?” you ask, your voice faltering, still riddled with disbelief.

“I want nothing more” He replies, reaching a hand out to cup your cheek.

Like twisting vines, the two of you entangle yourselves in each others arms, and cuddle into the bedroll. Exhausted and contented, the worries that plagued your thoughts earlier that evening were nowhere to be found, and you knew that you wouldn’t be kept up from them ever again.

[jwera]

[invinciblerodent]

This is going to be very ranty and disjointed, probably borderline incomprehensible post, but with the "return" of Dragon Age Discourse (and really, did it ever go anywhere?) and me repeatedly seeing the complaints and dismissals of DA:I as a "chosen one"-type of a narrative, I just.... I keep finding myself thinking about the relationship of truth and lies within the game.

Throughout the course of DA:I, the idea of a malleable, flexible personal identity, and a painful confrontation with an uncomfortable truth replacing a soothing falsehood, follows pretty much every character throughout their respective arcs.

There are some more obvious ones, Solas, Blackwall, The Iron Bull, their identities and deceptions (of both those around them and themselves) are clearly front and center in the stories told about them, but this theme of deception (both of the self- and the outside world) is clearly present in the stories of the others as well.

Like, for example, ones that come immediately to mind are stories like that of Cullen, who presents an image of a composed and disciplined military man, a commander- all to hide the desperate and traumatized addict that he sees himself as.

Dorian grappled with the expectations of presenting the image of the perfect heir to his father's legacy, the prideful scion of his house, his entire life (he even introduces himself as the result of "careful breeding", like one might speak about a prized horse)- all while knowing that his family would rather see him lobotomized and obedient, than anything even just resembling his vibrant and passionate self.

Cassandra calls herself a Seeker of Truth, and takes pride in that identity- only to learn that in reality, she has been made a liar, a keeper of secrets, without her knowledge or consent, and it is up to her to either uproot the entire organization and painfully cut out the abscess it is to build it back from the ground up into something respectable, or let the information she had revealed sit, and continue to fester.

And this theme continues and reframes itself in, among others, things like Sera's own inner conflict between her elven heritage and her human upbringing, or in Cole being caught in this unconscionable space in-between human and spirit, between person and concept, etc.

The Inquisitor isn't exempt from this either.

I feel like this is where the core of the many misunderstandings of this plot come from, why so many people continue to believe that Inquisition is a "chosen one" or "divinely appointed" type of story, because I think many might just... not realize, that the protagonist's identity is also malleable, and what they are told in the setup/first act of the game is not necessarily the truth.

The tale of the Inquisitor is the exact opposite of that of a "chosen one" story: it's an examination and reflection of the trope, in that it is the story of an assumption that all wrongly believe to be the truth, and thrust upon you, even if you protest. The very point is that no matter who you choose to say that you are, you will be known as the Herald of a prophet you don't even necessarily believe in, and then that belief will be proven wrong, leaving you to cope with either a devastating disappointment if you believed it, or a bitter kind of vindication if you didn't.

There's a moment just after Here Lies the Abyss (when you learn of the lie you've been fed your entire journey in the game) that I don't often see mentioned, but I think it's one of the most emotionally impactful character moments, if you are playing an Andrastian Inquisitor who had actually believed themselves chosen (which I realize is a rather unpopular pick, lol): it's when Ser Ruth, a Grey Warden, realizes what she had done and is horrified by her own deeds, and turns herself in asking to be tried for the murder of another of her order. As far as she is concerned, she had spilled blood for power, and regardless of whether she was acting of her own volition at the time, whether she had agency in the moment, is irrelevant to her: she seeks no absolution, but willingly submits to any punishment you see fit.

And only if you play as an Inquisitor who, through prior dialogue choices, had established themselves as a devout Andrastian, can you offer her forgiveness, for a deed that was objectively not her fault- not really.

You can, in Andraste's name, forgive her- even though you, at that point, know that you have no real right to do so. That you're not Andraste's Herald, that Andraste may or may not even exist, and that you can't grant anyone "divine forgiveness", because you, yourself, don't have a drop of divinity within you. You know that you were no more than an unlucky idiot who stumbled their way into meddling with forces beyond their ken.

You know you're a fraud. You know. The game forces you to realize, as it slowly drip-drip-drips the memories knocked loose by the blast back into your head, that what all have been telling you that you are up to this point, is false. And yet, you can still choose to keep up the lie, and tell this woman who stands in front of you with blood on her hands and tears in her eyes, that you, with authority you don't have, grant her forgiveness for a crime that wasn't hers to commit.

Because it's the right thing to do. Because to lie to Ser Ruth is far kinder than anything else you could possibly do to her, short of refusing to make a decision altogether.

There are any number of criticisms of this game that I can accept (I may or may not agree depending on what it is, but I'm from the school of thought that any interpretation can be equally valid as long as there's text that supports it, and no text that contradicts it), but I will always continue to uphold that the Inquisitor is absolutely not- and never was a "chosen one".

They're just as small, and sad, and lost, as all the other protagonists- the only difference is that they didn't need to fight for their mantle, because instead of a symbol of honor, it acted as a straitjacket.

[wyrmsgatebait]

Astarion being an embroiderer breaks my heart, because traditionally it was a skill so tied to daylight. If you looked at illustrations of embroiderers before the advent of electric lights they're always outside or near large sunny windows. Placing intricate stitches with nothing but candlelight to guide you would be a nightmare. In fact, it was outright forbidden in most professional workshops. An artist couldn't be sure of the stitch placement and most importantly the colors were dulled.

[barilleon]

One thing that I've noticed about Baldur's Gate 3 is that sometimes it really does feel like your companions are being piloted by other players. Sure, there's the standard approval system that most CRPGs have nowadays, but there is an even more powerful mechanic at play here: giving the player the option to shut the fuck up.

There are tons of moments when your companions are forced to confront parts of their past they can't shake. You always have the option to speak up for them if you like, but most times you also have the option to say nothing (sometimes the prompt is literally "say nothing," sometimes it's "let [character] handle this."

And this is such an important tactic of playing at the table: turning the spotlight onto to another player and letting them handle it. Because the story isn't just about your player character, it's about all of you.

When you do choose that option, I've noticed more often than not that the character approves of you letting them take the wheel. When you try to speak up for them, they may not express disapproval, but it comes up in the fiction. I tried to defend Astarion once and an NPC was like, "You're letting swine speak for you now?" and Astarion shouted, "I don't need anyone to speak for me!" He's right! This is his moment! Why did I say anything?

Baldur's Gate doesn't have to do this! There's no actual person piloting your companions. And in games a lot of people will say it's usually best practice to keep the spotlight on the players. But BG3 is a video game based on a tabletop game, and I think this is one of the main differences between the two. Maybe it's a tiny detail, but giving the player the option to relinquish the spotlight (and oftentimes encouraging and rewarding it) is such an incredible detail, and faithful to the medium the game is trying to emulate.

It's also a great lesson for everyone who wants to be a good player at the table: if it's not your scene, consider shutting up and letting the spotlit player handle it.

[princeofhags]

Living vicariously through Minthara’s datamined lines bc what even is this? Modern version of this meme.

[dumbofass-homo]

I've been thinking about how Halsin is always the caretaker.

He takes care of nature, but that's obvious. He takes care of a bunch of orphaned kids in the endgame. He took care of the grove, healed people, took in refugees. He cares about Tav (even if he is not Tav's partner) and the rest of the weirdos in the party. He cares.

It's so easy to forget that he is also a person that needs caring for. He is large and always has his emotions under control, so people tend to brush off his needs, sometimes subconsciously. And he is used to it, living for as long as he has.

It even shows in the fanart and fanfics - he is almost always the one to offer support and encouragement, emotional or otherwise. In the smutty works, he is almost exclusively the top, caring for his partners'pleasure.

I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with this or what I'm trying to say, but I think he would just melt if his partners and/or companions would slowly start taking things off his shoulders.

The children want bedtime stories? Astarion will do you one better. He will act out the heroic victory over a certain vampire with so much flare he will be the talk of the settlement for days to come. He most certainly didn't do that to get the kids off Halsin's bear back and most definitely doesn't enjoy his new fans.

Lae'zel isn't affectionate, no, not at all. It's just that when she sees how dull his blades are, it infuriates her. Definitely. So she takes them, along with his armor and polishes everything to perfection, just like she would her own. The githyanki cannot allow their metal to be in less than perfect condition, you see.

New refugees came to the settlement and Tav gets them settled, shows them the place they've built and makes sure they know they're safe. The newcomers are a little baffled that one of the saviors of Baldur's gate is so normal, and it gives them reassurance. Tav wants to make sure not everyone needs to look to Halsin for the smallest things.

In the midst of the shadow curse, despite their animosity, Shadowheart infuses several items around camp with light. She knows he must miss the sun.

In Rivington, Gale scouts for ingredients for a certain cake. He can't find what he's looking for, the settlement is very short on sweets. But with his little eye (and a bit of magic) he finds a honey bee hive. A few blisters and agry bees later - a small honeycake is done, served with tea. Gale didn't want to make assumptions but Tav had told him their favorite bear loves honey.

On a particularly dreadful night, Wyll invites Alfira to play them a few tunes. He goes from person to person and gets them to their feet to do a little dance. Halsin is sure he has two left feet so he is reluctant to try - but everyone cheers and encourages him so he does, peer pressure be damned. He steps on Wyll's feet and has no idea how to move his body in sync, but Wyll isn't phased by it. He moves and twirls him around and Halsin is sure that looks absolutely ridiculous - but he is having fun, for the first time in a long time.

[jstor]

I realize I have not provided an update on my BG3 adventures and a few of you seemed invested, so...

I now have around 420 hours in the game (a little over 10 work weeks full of gameplay), I have two concurrent playthroughs in progress and 6 or 7 finished, I have many mods installed, my Tavs are beautiful, I'm playing on tactician, and I keep romancing Gale and Astarion to experience various permutations of the relationship. I have also considered making a side blog for this specific interest because I have nowhere to contain my feelings about it 😭

[alifelongpassed]

Zevlor

[melonalemonade]

I’ve been having fun with the wizard over on my horknee account on twitter

[queenmuzz]

Headcanon that Tav, knowing Astarion was once a magistrate, asks him to marry them and their chosen romance. BONUS HEADCANON: They ask while in the middle of a life or death battle, with Astarion being