#but those apply to astarion as well

[morrithal]

Wyll/Gale is very funny to me, said with love. Two blokes standing in a field of flowers proposing Grand Romantic Statements at each other (aka words that have never been in that order before and probably shouldn't again), one of them selling it way better than the other but both equally enthusiastic and confident. And then they wreck your shit (from 60 feet away)

[vixstarria]

Intimacy

Hello friends, have some soft Act 2 Astarion.  

Astarion’s struggle with sex and intimacy. Connected with my other fics but is a standalone, per usual. 

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, soft Astarion 

Hurt/comfort, some fluff if you squint, love, angst, mutual pining, Act 2 spoilers, some fairly softcore smut 

Approximately 1,600 words. 

AO3

“I have no idea what we’re doing,” he told you. You’d replayed that conversation over and over countless times in your mind, since.  

You had no idea what you were doing either. Oh, navigating an ordinary relationship was simple enough, and you’d had your fair share of those – even if they’d all ended in disappointment at best, so far. Being with someone who’d just escaped 200 years of abuse, however... That was something new.  

“I don't think I want you to think of me in terms of sex.” 

Well that was a fuck-up. He was walking sex. ...Most likely due to sheer force of habit, so necessary for survival over all those years, but still.  

“I love you.” 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck...  

You were in over your head too. Completely. Hopelessly. In love with this catastrophe of a man.  

What were you to do with him now?  

Wait for him to take the lead in every physical interaction? It wasn’t in your nature to be so passive. He knew this. And you were sure he would love to be treated like spurned glass all of a sudden.  

Continue as you were? Even though now all you could think about was whether a touch might bring up a repulsive memory? Assume that you could singlehandedly overwrite centuries of disgust and loathing, overnight? How presumptuous and overbearing that would have been. 

Communicate? Ask? Listen? Sure. Absolutely. You did. Or tried, anyway. You were about as good at talking about these things as he was. And you didn’t really trust him to be completely honest at this point. Whether with you or his own self.  

And so you explored. Slowly, cautiously and attentively.

 

The most innocent touches seemed to bring him an inordinate amount of joy. You weren’t surprised.  

Passing him a vial of poison for his weapons and letting your fingers brush and caress one another’s, briefly. Wordlessly running a stray hand along his waist and planting a quick kiss under his ear while you walked past him as he stood talking with someone. Lingering with your foreheads or noses touching lightly after a kiss.

 

He leaped at any opportunity to massage your sore muscles or help you apply a salve, and you let him. It seemed he wanted to take care of you, and was working out all the ways how.  

He still pleasured you in different ways, at times.  

“You don’t have to...” 

“I want to,” he said. 

He just chose to keep his own pants on, now. You weren’t sure about his motivations. Could it be guilt? Or a misguided sense of self-worth? Did he still think this is all he was good for? Or, maybe you were completely overthinking it, and he was still just desperately horny, even if taking a step back. He was more present than before though, you could tell that much. 

You considered his reactions to other forms of touch, careful not to make your observation obvious. 

He hated being scratched. The entire area of his back covered in scars was off-limits for anything but embraces. He enjoyed playful bites, both giving and receiving. And more than anything, he loved holding you close, feeling as much of your body at once as possible, basking in its warmth.  

In turn, you were more than happy to wrap yourself around him when you could. 

“Why do you even like this?” he asked, apprehensive about it at first. “You don’t need to pretend for my sake. I can’t give you any warmth.” 

“I can give you mine,” you said, simply. “Besides, you obviously don’t remember what it’s like to lie in a puddle of sweat with someone who runs hot. This is a nice change.” you added after a moment of contemplation.  

You meant what you said, but you were dying to drag him into a hot bath, just to know what it would feel like for him to be warmed through. Maybe you’d get the chance once you got to Baldur’s Gate.

 

There happened to be a private room available at Last Light Inn that night. The group unanimously agreed that you and Astarion would take it, while the rest of your companions bunked in the common. 

“For Shar’s sake, piss off, none of us want to see or hear you two,” were the exact words of their blessing, delivered by Shadowheart. Karlach sanctified it by throwing a (deftly dodged) half-eaten apple at Astarion’s head.  

“Especially not hear!”

 

“I know this may come as a shock, but I’m actually not too fond of beds,” he said. 

“New memories, Astarion,” you shook your head. “Beds are non-negotiable. I wasn’t too fond of rutting in the dirt either.” 

“I’ll never grow tired of how poetic you are,” he smiled, unceremoniously throwing his gear on the floor. “New memories, you say?” 

A while later, you were straddling Astarion’s hips as he sat shirtless on the edge of the bed. 

“You know, you never did tell me what you like,” you sighed, your fingers in his hair as he kissed your neck.   

“Oh, what does anyone like? It’s all the same in the end,” he said, running his hands along your thighs. 

“That’s not true,” you murmured in his ear. “I can show you some things that are pretty unique to you right now,” you said and ran the tip of your tongue along the lower inner edge of his ear, making him shudder and let out a small moan.  

“You little devil, when did you figure that out?” he breathed.  

“When I happened to brush your ear a while back, like this,” you giggled, repeating the hand movement on his other ear, making him catch his breath slightly again, “and you just about started purring.” 

He just chuckled in response. 

“So what other secrets are you hiding?” you purred, kissing around his ear. “I might just need to kiss and caress every inch of your body to find out.” 

"Sounds like a terrible chore,” he said, falling back onto the bed and pulling you with him. “You don’t want to do that.” 

“Shut up and let me cherish you.” 

You kissed down along one side his neck, slowly, taking your time, pausing to lightly lick or nibble on any spot that made him hitch his breath. He was putty in your hands by the time you reached his collarbone. 

“Just don’t go any lower,” he said breathlessly. 

You hummed your agreement. You couldn’t handle going any lower yourself – you were completely intoxicated with the scent of his skin and the sound of his sighs of pleasure, if you went any lower, you would keep going, and you didn’t think it was a day for that yet.  

You continued up the other side of his neck instead.  

You hesitated for a moment before your lips reached the bite marks left by Cazador, but Astarion made no indication that he didn’t want you to keep going, and so you continued. He let out a soft whimper as your lips brushed the scars. 

“No?” you pulled back slightly, your hot breath still on his skin. He was lying with his eyes shut, head thrown back, neck completely exposed to you. 

“Yes...” he whispered, hoarsely. “Very yes... Softly...” 

You continued, lingering with your lips on the scars, as his fingers dug into the flesh of your hips, snapping them against his own and grinding you against an unmistakable erection. 

“I want you to make those marks your own... Yours and no one else’s...” he rasped. 

This is probably a mistake, you thought, but you could barely help yourself as you moaned into his neck and ran your tongue over the scars, making him growl and grind you into himself harder. The friction, the knowledge that he wanted it too was driving you mad.  

“I’m going to come if you don’t stop that,” you begged. 

“Go ahead,” he groaned. 

“Not without you.” 

Something in the energy changed then, and you lifted yourself off him, sitting up. Astarion stayed on his back a moment longer, before exhaling and also raising himself into a sitting position. You were still on his lap, facing him.  

“Listen,” he took your face in both hands, looking into your eyes intensely. “I want you so fucking bad, it hurts. I want to tear your clothes off and ravage you until you’re speaking in tongues. I do.” His voice was hoarse. He paused, before continuing. “But even more than that, I want to remember this, remember you, and not have any of the dirt from my past mixed into it. It’s difficult enough to keep it at bay as it is.” His eyes teared up at that. “And right now, for now, this is the only way I know how to do that.”  

“I’m sorry.” Tears sprang from your eyes. 

“No, you sweet idiot, you haven’t done anything wrong. I love you.” He gathered you in his arms, kissing away your tears as his own started to roll down. He sighed. “Great, now no one is coming, and everyone is crying.” 

You both burst out laughing as soon as those words were out of his mouth.  

You held each other a while longer, him stroking your back, before you broke the silence. 

“So the bite scars are pretty erogenous then?” 

“Extremely. Use that knowledge at your own risk and peril, darling.” 

He lifted your chin for a kiss. 

“Shall we go piss everyone off for a while, maybe steal Lae’zel’s boots, then come back here for more ‘memories’?” he asked.  

“Sounds childish and dangerous. I’m in.” 

You needed to clear your head too.  

Maybe tomorrow would be the day one of you would get closer to knowing what it was you were doing, and tell the other. Until then, at least you were in it together. 

~~~~~ 

The “I love you” is not canon for Act 2, but it is my headcanon, damnit.  

Like what you just read? Huzzah, there’s more! - Series master list

Next in series - Communication

AO3

[wavebiders]

I think what really bothers me about fanon!Astarion isn't just the woobification. That happens to every problematic white boy. It's annoying, but not news. It's that almost every trait that the fandom assigns him is something that is already explored through a different character in this very game

You want a character that's too focused on the task at hand to want to stop and help innocents? That's Lae'zel! Astarion is cool with dicking around, but Lae'zel spends most act 1 actively in a panic about the tadpole and pushes you to just find a cure already

You want a trauma survivor that is mostly self-serving but can't help but care about people in a similar situation? Well, Astarion disaproves of you helping slaves, but Shadowheart really wants you to look out for kids! Even when she gets tortured for it!

You want someone who is prone to sympathizing with the monstrous? Despite being a monster hunter, it's Wyll that has that covered! Astarion doesn't even like you sympathizing with a recently orphaned goblin kid

You want a proper courtship with a prince charming? That's literally Wyll's romance!

You want a character that tries very hard to be bad, but deep down enjoys doing the right thing, and starts to accept that over the course of the game? Shadowheart again! A massive part of her story is just that

You want the angst of a character still having been a minor when entering their abusive situation? That's the case for literally everybody except for him and maybe Karlach! He was an adult with a job

None of this is meant to be an attack on Astarion as a character, but pushing all those traits on him does the game a massive disservice. All these character's storylines exist in conversation with each other, they all benefit from the existence of the others. To instead pretend all those things apply to one character, is just

Well, it's incredibly boring

[tavyliasin]

WizKids BG3 MiniFigure Quality

I posted this on a Bsky thread but figured Tumblr people may want to take a look too - there is a vast difference in the quality shown in the advertisements and main page for both the Icons of the Realm D&D minifigures set and the actual product images. The product images are also now on the shop page, and/or in the video review that is displayed on the shop page.

All product images shown here are available either in the images or videos on the shop page. The images and characters belong to the rights holders and are used here to illustrate the review and critique of the products. I do not work for WizKids, WotC, or any affiliated or rival companies. The following is personal opinion.

This is the official advert as seen on Facebook

And THIS is the actual product

More below the cut including other character images~

Ok so looking at just the Astarion image and actual model there, the promo image is really sharp, well painted, highly detailed. It looks to me like a high quality 3D print, but could also be a digitally created or edited image. The product image is very different. The jacket and lower legs are a different colour to each other and neither match the promo image. All detail in the hair is lost. There's very little face detail. The paint in general looks cheap and applied too thickly. Every part looks thicker.

I do not know for certain but if I were to guess, I'd say the actual product is a mass produced mould and pour in a cheaper plastic, not 3D printed. Which would be fine if they were advertising the product with the actual models, but they're showing a version that is vastly different.

Let's take a look at some more, shall we?

Wyll (Phyll) barely has any distinguishable facial features at all, and his horns appear to be uneven. Karlach's (Carlocked's) horns are barely visible from the black lump of her hair, and her axe is visibly warped and bent in the middle. Lae'zel (La'zzle) is stood in a battle stance and whilst some effort seems to have been put in to the markings on her skin and face, the same can't be said for her armour and her hands and hair look like blobs of plastic. Astarion (Astarion't) has the colour issues, and his hair completely lacks most of his classic texture, and most of his colours are inaccurate. Similarly Shadowheart (Shorterhurt) has barely any recognisable facial features and the paint on the hand holding her spear looks chipped even though this is supposedly the promotional photo. Gale's (Goyle's) staff is warped and lacks any defined shape to the blobs at each end, and generally is about as vaguely barely recognisable as the rest. Withers (WitheredAway) has some attention to detail but suffers all the same problems as the rest, undefined, not at all like the promised quality in the advert, and everything is just more blob-like than it should be even on a small scale miniature.

Here they are in their box! And the best box they could get to photograph shows Gale's staff bent at a significant angle. Now I'm not here to judge a wizard by the bend in his staff, but this isn't what's advertised even on the back of the box!

Come on, Gale, that's just sad...

You may notice that the back of the box advertises a line of blind booster boxes! Each of those comes with one Large size figure and 3 Small or Medium figure. Would you like to see the differences between the advertised images on the page and the products shown in the video on that same page?

I know the top image from the video does suffer from the lower resolution, but that drop in quality has nothing to do with the camera/screen. The hair lacks any texture, the mouth no longer has a defined tongue and teeth it's just a blob, the chainmail is far less detailed, all the points on the mace and armour are far less sharp and defined.

The skin colour has changed in this one, despite the red in the armour staying the same. The details have dropped right off, and the face and hair look like a completely different character.

I apologise for the crop in this one but still we have gone from Lump the Enlightened to Lumpier the NotEnlightenedActually - his skin is now green, lacks the fine detail of hair and wrinkles, even misses the skin tone variation and shading from the original. The face is far less defined, you can see clearly that the rope belt has gone from high detail to much more blob-like.

I'm not going to go through all of them, but there are precious few that look like a quality level I would consider to be worth the price point.

You can see the products here:

And here:

The product videos that the screenshots come from are on those pages too in the description part of the product.

Final notes:

This is all just my opinion, but I feel like the advertised images are not representative of the product that will be delivered. If you have preordered already and you feel like you no longer want to have these items, you can apply for a refund before the items are shipped - the standard shop email will tell you that it may take 2 working days (Mon-Fri) to get a response.

If you still like these items and want to order them, I'm genuinely happy for you and hope you enjoy them - there isn't enough official merch for us especially for certain characters.

In my opinion, however, these should be advertised only with the actual products and not the fancy looking prototypes.

And for those feeling disappointed, maybe a meme will help a little? (I don't usually like this template/theme at all but honestly this might be the one time it actually fits)

[michanvalentine]

I was mentioned in a pro-Ascendant Astarion post with this quote: "Astarion does not have a well-developed sense of self, and by default, he also lacks many of the skills that a well-adjusted adult should possess." This is the post it’s taken from: click me!

No problem at all—it's public, and I don’t see why anyone shouldn’t reference it. Naturally, the post was in opposition to that statement—generally speaking, I mean—but that’s fine too. Everyone has their own opinion and is free to express it. That’s not the point of my upcoming ramble! xD

It’s just that rereading my own words got me thinking more deeply about the topic and made me want to explore it further.

Now, I’m not a psychologist, but I did study psychology. I took several exams at university and I actually did pretty well, lol. I didn’t complete my studies because life took me elsewhere—most importantly, my daughter was born—but the general knowledge I gained from psychology still follows me in everything I do every day.

So it’s second nature for me to analyze characters from the media I consume through that lens—Astarion included. Of course, this is just my perspective; I can’t say for certain whether the developers intended this for his character or whether they did specific research into his psychological development.

That said, today I feel like going off on a little tangent about this beautiful science. Still in reference to that heart-stealing vampire spawn that I’m aaaaabsolutely not obsessed with.

Let me also add a disclaimer. The concepts mentioned are just examples and cannot be applied literally, as every person is different and reacts differently to situations and stimuli. Likewise, the brain is plastic—neural connections change and adapt, and there is almost never a fixed or definitive condition. Above all, I’m not making any kind of diagnosis! That’s not within my competence! Keep these ideas well in mind!

So, why do I say that Astarion doesn’t have a well-developed sense of self? Let’s take it step by step and talk a little about the concept of the "self". I'm copy-pasting something from another post, lol. Rewriting it from scratch is too much work! xP

The self is quite a complex concept with many facets. Briefly put, it’s shaped by various internal and external factors and reflects a conscious image of "me." In psychology, it’s key to building the Ego of an individual—the capacity to act, understand, organize, and interpret experiences. The Ego provides a sense of uniqueness, coherence, and personal continuity since the self encompasses many "faces." All this forms the personality of an individual, which naturally develops (and changes) throughout life.

Particular attention in the formation of the self is given to sensitive periods, such as early childhood. The self determines the level of self-esteem based on an individual’s assessment of their worth and competence in the characteristics they attribute to themselves (Real Self), their future aspirations (Ideal Self), and what they want to avoid (Feared Selves). The greater the discrepancy between these aspects, the lower the level of self-esteem. Social support and approval, as well as competence in domains deemed important to the self, obviously contribute to perceiving oneself as a person of value.

Astarion, as we know, has had his sense of self fundamentally undermined. For him, the world is divided between those who have power and those who don’t, with the former always being the "winners" in his eyes. The magistrate he once was is long dead, along with his moral compass and the life he used to live—especially after 200 years of servitude to Cazador.

As vampire spawn, akin to a newborn in some respects, Astarion learned to exist solely within Cazador’s world, revolving around Cazador, for Cazador.

There are lines of dialogue within the game that highlight this in a painful and terrifying way. For example, when Tav/Durge directly confronts Cazador, or when Cazador ends up on his knees in front of Astarion after one of his brothers or sisters dies during the ritual. Cazador says: “He [Astarion] is afraid. He’s afraid because all he has ever knows is you and me. And without us, he is nothing.” Or: “And then? What will you be without me? A shade? A specrte in the shadows, devoid of all purpose.”

It’s a terrible thing, but it’s true. Cazador represents everything—Astarion’s entire world—and when he dies, he leaves behind a void that’s even more frightening. And let’s not forget that, in the real world, it takes very little to completely erase a person—and two hundred years in the hands of an abuser is an overwhelming amount of time, a detail that too often gets underestimated or completely forgotten.

The whole matter becomes even more disturbing and painful when Cazador suggests that without Tav/Durge, Astarion would have come crawling back to him with his tail between his legs. To his fucking tormentor. And sadly, it's a painful concept because it really happens in real life—when you have nothing and no one, when you have no means of your own and are completely dependent on another person, no matter how terrifying they are. Cazador is certain that Astarion will return to him, even if it means dying. And it's a concept with a devastating impact.

So Cazador was the domineering father figure, and vampire society functions under strict rules handed down by vampire lords. In this hostile context, without any room for self-expression or choice, Astarion developed a fragmented and damaged self-image. Constantly belittled by Cazador as an individual (small, weak, useless, incapable, all words he uses in the game), always pitted against his brothers and sisters, and degraded from a magistrate to a prostitute (this is important because it’s the only skill—or "talent," as he calls it himself—that Astarion believes gives him any value or power, forming the basis for his self-image). It’s easy to imagine just how high his self-esteem must be, right? Most importantly, he never developed the skills to navigate life as a free individual—at least not in a healthy way.

Good Lord, he thinks that in order to receive support, he has to sell himself to Tav/Durge and offer his sexual services—otherwise, he has no hope of survival! And that’s why I say he doesn’t possess all the skills of a well-adjusted adult. Other glaring examples of this—so glaring they hit you like a punch in the eye—are his inability to say no and to recognize his own limits. And shall we talk about the infamous question: What do you want? The first time, he deflects, and essentially gives the answer the player wants to hear. The second time, he states it plainly: he doesn't know. He doesn't know how to make decisions, he hasn’t done it in 200 years, and the very idea terrifies him to his core. These are all skills that a well-balanced person possesses—let’s not kid ourselves.

Like any mature and well-balanced adult, one knows how to recognize their feelings, define them, communicate them, and most importantly, not fear them. Astarion, on the other hand, is unable—after 200 years of pure shit—to understand what he feels for Tav/Durge, and he won’t be able to until the end of the Pale Elf’s quest. “I don’t know—but isn’t it nice, not to know? You’re not a target, nor a victim, not just one night it's better to forget. But then... whatever in the world could you be?”

So, even if reluctantly (and despite his fear), he ends up leaning on Tav/Durge. He needs a guiding figure to help him figure out what to do because making decisions and acting independently don’t come naturally to him. Especially outside of his talents, sex and survival. He needs to be rehabilitated, re-educated, and to achieve this, he requires a safe and healthy environment where he can experiment and grow, perhaps developing other faces of the self on which to base a new evaluation. Like, I'm not just a slave or a whore: but I'm also a companion, a friend, a lover, a hero and I'm able to listen, to help, to learn, to collaborate, etc.

And let’s not forget that when the fateful confrontation with Cazador is brought up, Astarion explicitly asks Tav/Durge for help. “I need to take the fight to him. And I need you to help me,” he says. How to help him—whether to ascend or not—is up to the player and how they choose to play. But the fact remains: Astarion needs support.

Meanwhile let’s take a look at some of the consequences of low self-esteem:

Difficulty opening up in social settings and communicating one's emotions and needs

Extreme self-criticism

Devaluing or ignoring one’s own qualities

Tendency to constantly apologize and feel guilty for things that are not actually one's responsibility

Tendency to appease others due to perceiving oneself as inferior to one’s peers

Use of negative words to describe oneself

Difficulty making decisions and maintaining personal goals over time

Negative and self-blaming internal dialogue

Belief that success is due to luck, with difficulty attributing accomplishments to oneself

Not believing compliments that are given to them

And now, let’s look at the most common causes for the development of low self-esteem:

Being raised by extremely critical and demanding parents

Being heavily devalued by parents or other authority figures

Being ignored or ridiculed during childhood

Being a victim of physical, sexual, or psychological abuse

Achieving poor academic results

Experiencing episodes of bullying or mistreatment in the workplace

Suffering a financial collapse or a significant breakup

Being subjected to a prolonged period of stress

Suffering from a chronic and persistent medical condition

Suffering from psychological disorders (e.g., anxiety or depression)

Does this remind you of something? Or maybe someone in particular? Does that person, by any chance, have red eyes and pointed teeth?

Naturally, these are just examples, and everything varies depending on the individual, but I believe these points still manage to convey the concept.

They especially give the idea of how much events—and especially the context in which we live—impact our psyche. For example, thanks to neuroscience and increasingly detailed brain imaging, we know that brain areas change according to the factors mentioned above; they train like muscles, so to speak, becoming larger and more reactive every time they are activated.

So, if someone is subjected to chronic stress, the brain areas responsible for managing it will become easily activated, bringing with them a whole series of consequences that affect performance, behavior, perception, thinking, and so on.

Likewise, the more the “right” areas of the brain are activated, the more the brain itself will develop in a healthy and balanced way, forming neural connections that support the tools (perception, thinking, etc) mentioned above.

Meanwhile, other areas—such as those related to stress responses—will remain small and more difficult to activate. (Obviously, brain areas don’t literally “grow�� or “shrink” in size, but the connections between neurons (synapses) are strengthened or weakened depending on how much they’re used. This is a principle known as “neural plasticity”: what you use becomes reinforced, what you neglect becomes weaker.)

A curiosity: even our mood influences how we perceive people and the world around us—and consequently, our thoughts and impressions too! xD

This image is heartbreaking, because these brains belong to two three-year-old children—and the differences are significant.

The brain on the right is missing key areas that are present in the one on the left. These missing parts impact the abilities of the child with the smaller brain:

this child will likely be less intelligent as an adult compared to the one with the larger brain,

will be less capable of empathizing with others,

and will be at higher risk of becoming addicted to drugs and involved in violent crimes.

Additionally, the child with the smaller brain is more likely to remain unemployed and dependent on social services, and may develop mental health issues or other serious health problems.

The large difference in size and development between these two brains is not due to illness or injury, but rather to how the two children were treated by their mothers.

The child with the larger, more developed brain was loved by their mother, who was consistently present and attentive to their needs. The child with the smaller brain, on the other hand, was neglected and abused. It is precisely this difference in treatment that explains why one child's brain developed fully while the other’s did not.

Of course, our favorite vampire spawn isn’t a developing child—but the point is that certain environments and experiences have a profound impact and shape many aspects of our lives, making us more or less equipped to face challenges.

At this point, I’d like to focus a bit on the reasoning process in general. It’s easy to believe that when humans think, make decisions, and reflect on a problem or task, they do so in the most rational way possible. And that’s where we go wrong! First of all, the cerebral cortex — the part of the brain responsible for complex cognitive functions such as thinking, awareness, memory, attention, and language — is located in the upper region of the brain. Most stimuli, in order to reach the cortex, must pass through all the lower areas of the brain, which often trigger behavioral responses even before the stimulus reaches rational thought. For example, the activation of the sympathetic nervous system, which is responsible for danger responses. A silly example: how many times have we jumped out of our skin before realizing that the loud, scary noise was just a window slamming shut? First comes the fear response, then the evaluation of the stimulus follows.

As if that weren’t enough, the brain plays other little tricks on us — without us even being aware of it — because that sneaky thing does a whole lot on its own, especially when it comes to thinking and making decisions.

So... Astarion has a very limited perspective—mostly the one offered by Cazador. As we said earlier, the world is divided into those who have power and those who suffer it. Period. But we all know that in between there are infinite shades of gray, and that can’t be denied. In the same way, Astarion believes that Tav/Durge is the exception to the rule—the only kind person in the world, the one and only for him. But as much as it flatters our ego to hear that, we know very well that no one is that special. It’s always Astarion’s perspective that’s extremely limited. And in fact, here too, Tav/Durge has the opportunity to broaden his view, to point out that the world is full of kind people who would care for him if only he opened himself up and showed kindness in return. This narrow way of thinking and seeing things, this resistance to noticing alternatives, fits perfectly into the category of cognitive biases.

Let’s start with the premise that the human brain needs to be both effective and efficient. That means reaching a result in the shortest time and using the fewest resources. Therefore: when we think and make decisions, we don’t always do so rationally. We use heuristics—mental shortcuts—often following patterns we've used before. A silly example: if I have to cook a dish I’ve made a hundred times, I don’t sit down to rethink how and why I should cook it—I just switch off my brain and do it the way I’ve always done. Many heuristics are good and useful—others, not so much. And when they fall into the latter category, they become biases.

There are many types, but let’s look at one that we all, even us Astarion fans, share. xD Confirmation Bias!

Confirmation bias manifests when we tend to search for, interpret, or remember information that supports our pre-existing beliefs, ignoring anything that contradicts them or isn’t completely aligned.

Once a certain mental imprint forms, new experiences only deepen that groove, without any willingness to explore other interpretative modes—in fact, they tend to further crystallize internal beliefs.

We can say that the person is cherry-picking—in a complex set of data and information, they pick out only what resonates with a belief they already hold, which, in some way, is convenient for them.

The reason is easy to see: if I don’t challenge a belief—even if it’s irrational—I’ll save time, create less friction, and reduce internal and external resistance to a given situation.

Because confirmation bias shows up when a person selects only the evidence that supports their point of view, it easily becomes a self-sustaining system, keeping them locked in an interpretive and experiential microcosm that risks becoming increasingly stifling—a self-built prison.

Astarion is stuck on tracks he’s known inside and out for centuries, forcibly carved into his mind—and for him, it’s all too easy to filter everything through that lens. And this cuts him off from a myriad of possibilities, in a completely unconscious way. It’s like throwing a wrench in your own gears. So Tav/Durge represents an opening to a different value system, one that could replace or at least expand our vampire spawn’s worldview. Not without resistance, of course—those brain connections will get you!

So, to conclude, let’s go back to the beginning and to the statement in question.

"Astarion does not have a well-developed sense of self, and by default, he also lacks many of the skills that a well-adjusted adult should possess."

Yes, maybe out of context it might sound bad. I certainly don’t see Astarion as half a man, incapable of thinking or choosing for himself. But I do recognize that he has serious vulnerabilities that need to be treated with care and taken into account. Not when we're playing—when we play, we do what we like and have fun—but when we analyze him as a character. When Astarion, at the end of the Pale Elf quest, in the good ending, thanks us for saving him from himself, what he means, in my opinion, is exactly this: thank you for supporting me when my vulnerabilities, my fears, my blind spots, and my narrow perspective were getting the best of me. Because, let’s be honest, Astarion’s story is also about this—about rediscovery, about learning to live again, about changing, improving, growing, developing relationships, new abilities and skills. Not as a rogue or as a vampire, or within game mechanics—but as a person.

The point is: Astarion has come out of a horrific situation, one that has to have left marks, wounds, infected pus festering beneath the skin. A situation that never allowed him to understand what he liked, what he wanted, who he really was—simply because he couldn’t express himself, couldn’t think about his own needs, couldn’t say no. Couldn’t develop his sense of self in peace and safety.

A situation that left him unable to face the world and the people in it in a healthy way, unable to identify and express his own feelings, unable to say that damn "no" or to make choices. To decide, yes. And in fact, every time he’s asked what he wants to do, his answers are vague—or he says he doesn’t know, or admits that he’s afraid of those damn choices. He’s afraid of freedom, of consequences, and of everything else beyond the four things he knows—the four fucking things Cazador drilled into him, all around power and control.

And I’m really supposed to believe that the one choice he’s absolutely sure about is Ascension? Hell no. Just like he's not sure he doesn't want to ascend!

References

Rogers, C. R. (1961). On Becoming a Person: A Therapist's View of Psychotherapy. Houghton Mifflin. → A foundational text on the concept of the self, self-actualization, and congruence between real and ideal self.

Winnicott, D. W. (1964). The Child, the Family, and the Outside World. Penguin Books. → Explores the importance of a safe environment in the healthy development of the self.

Bowlby, J. (1969–1980). Attachment and Loss (Vols. 1–3). Basic Books. → Describes how early attachment figures shape our internal working models and sense of security.

Erikson, E. H. (1950). Childhood and Society. W. W. Norton & Company. → Introduces the theory of psychosocial development across the lifespan.

Herman, J. L. (1992). Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence—From Domestic Abuse to Political Terror. Basic Books. → Explains complex trauma, victim-perpetrator dynamics, and the long-term effects of abuse.

van der Kolk, B. A. (2014). The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. Viking. → Offers neuroscientific insight into how trauma reshapes the brain and affects emotional regulation.

Siegel, D. J. (2010). The Mindful Brain: Reflection and Attunement in the Cultivation of Well-Being. W. W. Norton & Company. → Discusses neuroplasticity, integration, and the development of a coherent sense of self.

Kahneman, D. (2011). Thinking, Fast and Slow. Farrar, Straus and Giroux. → A deep dive into heuristics, decision-making, and cognitive biases like confirmation bias.

Malaguti, E., & Morganti, P. (2014). Psychotraumatology: An Integrated Model for Trauma Treatment. (Translated from the Italian). FrancoAngeli. → Addresses the psychological and neurological consequences of prolonged trauma.

[whatusername00]

Which Baldur's Gate Characters Know How To Lace Up Their Clothing - Camp Edition

I got this idea because I noticed Gortash's shirt isn't laced properly, and then noticed Astarion's shirt isn't laced properly, so now I need to look at as many characters as I can because I can't stop noticing. And I'm about to spend too much time on this for it to stay in my brain. Starting with all characters who appear at camp (main party + others.)

Shadowheart, Lae'zel, Gale, Withers, Aylin, Mizora, Duke Ravenguard, Emmaline, and Arnell don't have lacing on their camp outfits.

Starting with the default clothes for Tav. Yes, they know how to lace their shirt. Good job. This particular Tav is Durge, so it's good to know he didn't forget how when his brain got Swiss'd. However, it's not perfectly consistent because on the bottom 2 sets of eyelets he threads from the outside, but the third set he threads from the inside. Though this is probably intentional so the lacing doesn't hang on the inside of his shirt, so 9/10.

Astarion, baby boy, you were so close. But unfortunately there are two pairs of eyelets where he threads one side from the outside and one from the inside. For someone who wants to appear so put together, you think he could take the two extra braincells to lace his shirt consistently. 7/10.

Threaded consistently the whole way through...with one side. Why didn't you finish lacing your shirt? Why even lace one side if you weren't going to lace the other? Why isn't the lacing that you didn't finish shorter than the one that you did finish? All questions I can't answer because I cannot ask. 7/10 at least it's consistent.

I couldn't get a good in game screenshot of Karlach since her lacing is on her pants, but I found a texture rip so I can work with it. So the lacing here is the same all the way through, super consistent, *mwah*, but...it's sneakily unnecessarily complicated. Typically, the lacing that laces from the inside to outside would sit on top, but it's not that way on her pants. She pulls the lacing through the eyelet, then threads it under the other part of the cross, then threads it through the top of the next eyelet. And with as much lacing as her pants have, this must have taken forever for no extra benefit. It would have been easier to let it sit on top. 8/10 its pretty though.

Halsin. Beautiful. Gorgeous. I choose to believe the knots are hidden on the inside. No other notes. 10/10.

I've never actually recruited Minthara so I took a picture from the BG3 wiki. Just like Halsin, beautiful. Again, I choose to believe the ends are hidden on the inside. 10/10.

Jaheira's pants lace the same way Halsin's shirt does: perfectly. Though if the knot is hidden on the inside, I feel like that would be more uncomfortable, so I'm gonna headcannon that it ties at her waist under her shirt. Other than that, 10/10.

Minsc's shirt uses the same model as Wyll's so everything I said there applies here, though I feel like it makes more sense for Minsc. My real gripe here is that Minsc is a liar. Talking 'bout some thrice laced pants, but I didn't see any lacing on those pants. How dare he trick me in this way. 6/10 I don't like being lied to.

Yenna's mom may be dead, but she made sure her baby knew how to lace her shirt before she did. She may have gotten kidnapped by Orin, but she looked put together while doing it. Perfect 10/10. She deserves it after what she went through.

After being dead for 100 years, Isobel didn't forget how to lace her armor. Gotta be put together to see her girlfriend again. 10/10 Isobel can do no wrong.

Volo...I don't know what you've done to the front of your pants but it doesn't look good. Some of those crosses are missing. It looks sloppy. What is this. This is something I would do as a joke to see if anyone noticed. Well I noticed and I hate it. 2/10 it keeps your pants closed I guess.

That's it for the camp. I'll link other sets of characters below as I do them.

Tieflings

[lesfir]

Astarion and Vampire Supremacy.

In general and in romance.

In DnD, vampires are huge supremacists. They consider themselves superior to any undead and certainly superior to mortals. All mortals are cattle to vampires.

In Baldur's Gate 3, this trait is also present in vampire culture.

In Astarion there seems to be almost no such things… Or they are not emphasised - as I think they are.

In my opinion we should have explored his different traits.

Vampire Supremacy is one of them.

Astarion was an Upper City noble and the chances that he wasn't arrogant towards the "lower classes" are very low. Zero for me.

So he was already familiar with supremacism very well.

Add to that the loss of his status and the hierarchy of the coven in which he became a slave.

That's something.

We barely have conversations with Astarion about vampire culture: what does it mean to be in "vampire coven"? How vampires relate to the mortal world? And what does he like about the vampire world?

It's more shadowy moments.

Here I found a few.

Part 1. Details in the story.

EA 9 patch, Act 1 - the grove, after killing Nettie.

It's one of those cut out scenes with little companion comments and reduced to a one line or remade. Shadowheart had it too :<

Now:

Act 2 - after killing the strange ox.

Act 3 - Astarion as Lord says his stuff :D

This word: "spook" cattle/sheep...

It's same edge of his character.

In Act 1, you'd think he thinks all "weak" people are sheep. That's true, too. Nettie has lost, she's dead and she's a sheep, but somewhere around here in the grove there will be a hunter for him and Tav - they have to go.

In Act 3, the path of evil, Astarion demonstrates this line deeper and more vividly.

In Act 2, it still sounds like something funny, comical. Yes, yes chickens, oxen and people.

But these are food animals - and that's not such a joke to Astarion.

To put it in perspective in Act 1 all his companions is a snack.

He discusses with Tav what they would taste like. Here's the synopsis for that scene:

Synopsis: Astarion is staring at the other companions around the campfire. He's friendly and affable, but his mind is on his hunger. He starts to wonder what the others taste like, although he's MOSTLY joking. In the end he decides to remove himself, before the conversation gets too real.

Mostly a joke that could become something serious.

Vampiric arrogance, predatory nature.

Vampires are clever hunters - their arrogance towards mortals comes in many forms, from food to merry carnage to lust. Basically, they use whatever gives them profit and pleasure.

He might not eat Laezel, but watching Lae and Shadowheart fight is entertainment for him.

Looks fun, but the nature of it is dark.

It can be taken ironically, but he really enjoys watching brutal fighting and generally killing.

It's a trait. Deserves its own post.

WYR_SmugglersCave_PAD_Suggestions

He do hope.

It's also relevant to mortals. Corrupt people with power are as parasitic creatures as vampires. Instead of blood, it's gold, work, and entertainment in an wicked way that damages people.

In this I notice the metaphorical nature of vampirism in Astarion's character.

As an example of corruption I recall Astarion's little remark when we kill the two ogre-lovers of the barn.

The insignificance (who cares about two ogres) and again the comicality of the situation, the way Astarion smiles as he opens the barn is legendary. Kind of hides it a little bit and takes it away from the thought…

Somewhere in Baldur's Gate someone is paying gold to watch fights, and it's unlikely these fights have civilized rules. And it's doubtful that such a entertainment would only apply to ogres.

The fighting pits at Baldur's Gate.

Who knows if Astarion was interested in that when he was mortal. I headcanon that he was. He was extremely corrupted and it's deep in his personality.

Here is this telling facet, Astarion's interest in such brutal things, which are as much in the shadows as gremlin remarks, yet there is exactly "evil" in this one.

This part of that aspect:

The arrogance of the Noble and the Vampire.

More points about treating people like cattle.

There is a moment in Act 2 - and I have absolutely no idea where it is.

SHA_Mausoleum_PAD_MakeshiftVessel

Players find a vessel with a half-formed humanoid shape gestating inside and reacts accordingly. The being is just inert flesh and cannot speak.

How to trigger:

Interact with S_SHA_Mausoleum_MakeshiftVessel.

Where is that thing? I can't find.

In good companions, this is a cause for concern. In general the place where they found it contributes to very unpleasant thoughts.

A mausoleum in the shadow lands of Sharr, where a necromancer and the chosen of Myrkul struts around.

Well, Astarion too, as you can see... finds a downside.

Hunting people is fun and keeps you in the spirit.

It's a good idea to check all the phrases in Astarion's Original throughout the acts. Maybe there's more.

I watched the epilogue of Lord Astarion Original and in a conversation with Minthara (hah, who else?)

And it's wild. It's literally all about the people.

:D

We have a few to choose from for rpg's.

And given the line about sports… I really don't think Astarion will be buying "food" very often.

Or that pale arse is lazy after all and his hunt is a park in the city. And when he should be setting up his power web in the city, he's too busy for hunting.

Can you imagine him wanting to hunt and get some air, but he's got some lordish business in the halls until late in the evening.

Part 2. In Romamce.

This part departs from such direct things as blood and the predator's attitude towards people.

It becomes more sensual.

I would say this trait of supremacism is slightly visible, but not over people, over mortality in a greater sense, when Astarion turns Tav:

he emphasises the strength, sharpness. Better.

The morning after the turn.

He has a point. The last time he was mortal, he was killed.

Astarion as Lord does the same with God Gale Original mentioning immortality as - strength, lack of illness and youthfulness.

love this one

His vampiric arrogance over Tav perhaps visible only in the first act. He didn't really care. Tav became his fun, his lust, and his way to survive.

Then Tav is the first person to care about him in dozens and dozens of years of slavery.

"Blood bags" and such are a bit of dark humour, so it might have been true in another life, but he and Tav are far from it, they're the first person he's cared for in decades of loneliness.

His perception of mortality as something that makes a person more vulnerable is his trigger (among others) for turning Tav into a his kind.

But since he's not in such a hurry in the end of mortal Tav, I'm guessing: it's his euphoric state after the ritual, where his spire for the castle of vampire happiness is to be with Tav forever. He chillin' about it, afterward.

Tav's immortality is a nice thing he'd like, but okay it can wait.

So.

Tav... they're special. The two of them are special. Astarion elevates Tav and himself above the others. We are Better.

Camp. Vampire ambush.

When the camp is ambushed by spawns.

If Tav proposes the idea that the world is actually a wonderful place that can accept him - he argues with them.

But approves of all three different reactions.

Also then Astarion says the word "forever" in regards to their relationship, to Tav.

This "forever" part is deep in Astarion.

According to the artbook (The artbook is EA era, which is still sold with the game though, and the story doesn't contradict anything) So according to the artbook Astarion was obsessed with eternal life, forever youth, forever being.

It extends to his feelings - it's needed forever. It's very sensual, but also very greedy and… painfully understandable - it's such a simple feeling to make something nice continue for as long as possible.

If Tav is on the same page as Astarion and tends towards the "only loved ones matter, we're special" mindset.

You'd think it was his trick-manipulation to perform a ritual, praise Tav for supporting his idea of supremacism and get what he so reasonably needs.

He's certainly glad that Tav has similar ideas to him, and he'll definitely support that.

It doesn't depend on his goals still - his "we are better" is very direct and deep in his personality.

Italicized.

Here we are. That's one of the key thoughts in his character. That's the focus.

This trait is further seen in Astarion as Lord - he says "We", "Ours".

The man even says it in Latin. Aeterna amantes.

New in patch 7, takeover of the Absolute:

This part is already moving away from vampirism.

This one is very layered.

We are because he finally found someone he can trust.

We are because we are parts fated to complete each other.

We are because he's not alone in the world anymore.

Along with vampirism, his Noble Lord status plays a role here again.

We are the mighty, above and we rule.

It's an easy and very simple fit to vampirism - we are better and we are forever.

He's also incredibly proud of himself, that he can give something to Tav, can protect them. He's been under Tav's protection the whole journey. Undead outcaster in Faerun, they regard mortals as cattle, and mortals regard them as monsters. That's why there are monster hunters. Vampire spawn he was allowed to stay in the group and he was dependent, he couldn't be a leader. In the romance he felt he had nothing to give, he was getting Tav into trouble with a powerful true vampire. He was counting the seconds until they finally decided to leave him…

In the romance, vampirism plays into the fact that Astarion is very much immersed in thoughts of eternity together.

This emotionally intense and fragile moment: "I don't want to lose anything", comes from the very moment he lost: his status, the sun, his life. Not gonna happen again.

Vampirism in the romance have fun one too:

-- wealth - these two literally wear the most expensive clothes on the Sword Coast.

-- shared powers - he is going to be in charge

-- fights and challenge is for Tav- warrior, Astarion likes to spill some blood

-- pleasure - of various kinds, from bed to blood.

The end result is an amalgamation of his:

-- his personality with, well, a pretty intense dark triad.

I would say character image instead of personality. Because the personality is itself. But the character will always submit to the idea - recall that his core is a balance of evil and fun. And evil in DnD is egoism, immorality, narcissism, harming others for fun and personal goals and all that.

These dark parts in irl personality can spoil the balance. That's why psychology is for people.

Not for characters who will eventually never go against their core. (even if all psychology reference books say otherwise).

-- vampirism - the desire for blood and a predatory attitude

-- desire for status and power as noble

-- force as magic

-- forever

-- and share it all with love

A little bonus at the end.

Animation 3 patch. Subtle process.

This scene is much improved in colours in patch 7. But I still like the original faces. He looks so much like a fox >:3

[meanbossart]

Hello! I love your work, and you may see my in the comments from time to time. I do have an intense question about your headcanon DU drow/Astarion relationship (TW: Abuse)

How would drow react if Star ever wanted to take a break from their relationship, however brief it would be? If ever Star wanted to travel alone and take some some time to work on himself, would drow accept this and allow Star to be alone? Or would drow’s abusive/obsessive nature take hold and keep Star within his line of sight? I ask because it must be traumatic to jump from one intense relationship to the next, especially since Star’s relationship with Cazador was completely abusive. When would Star have the time to truly dive into introspection and understand himself as a full being and not an owned object?

This question doesn’t apply to the AU’s (unless you want to answer from those perspectives too!)

Boy, how I wish I could take a year sabbatical to finish up ANE... I have so much to say about this but I need to hold back the slightest bit because of potential spoilers.

As it stands right now (as in - from the moment that their relationship became "official" and up until the current events in the fic) DU drow would not take that well. He would understand it as an attempt at breaking up with him, for certain, and just become kind of frozen at the prospect of anything happening to Astarion while he's out of his sight.

But also, It's worth noting that these two have not been apart for longer than a couple of hours since the day they met, which in my personal fiction means that they have been around each other 24/7 (or 24/10?) for 5 months straight. For Astarion, that's the longest anyone he's ever slept with has been alive for; and for DU drow that's just been his entire life literally for as long as he can remember. Splitting up would be scary for understandable reasons for the both of them. I think they both have horrific anxieties about being apart that they aren't even aware of, which makes getting over this hurdle ever the more crucial.

I don't think DU drow would turn horrifically abusive if the situation were to come up in the "now", but he'd probably employ some degree of manipulation to try and make Astarion change his mind without realizing it; bringing up how bad his chances are on his own, doubt his real motivations for going away, bring up his own sanity as if he still depends on him to exercise restraint... Concerns that are genuine, even fair, but just kind of mask the real problem which is how scared he is to be alone again.

Unless... DU drow were to realize how detrimental to himself and his relationship it is to rely on and expect to be relied upon by a singular person at all times, to the point where without them he feels as if there is absolutely nothing else to life - because, in a way, there isn't; If he were to have a difficult day and Astarion and Shadowheart weren't around(not that he's even that open about his feelings with either of them, to begin with), he'd just have to sit down and fester in that negativity, with nothing to filter it through or occupy himself with. DU drow is too concerned with coming off as self sufficient and strong in their eyes, he romanticizes both of those relationships and enjoys the narrative pay-offs they provide him with - they fit into his idea of who he is too well, and that makes actual growth difficult. Astarion does a fairly good job at pushing him into introspecting more, but if he isn't even around to do that... Well 🤷

Once DU drow has that something or someone that forces him to approach himself from a different perspective, he could start to let that shit go. Just as Astarion would probably be doing the same thing somewhere else, with someone else. It will happen eventually and they will be better people for it - not for the world, but at least for each other.

Thank you for the question! The intense ones are my favorites.

[smallnico]

durge desensitizes to casual positive affection and friendship compilation

also known as real feline durge hours. esper's companions look at them and say Is Anyone Gonna Manhandle That Murderous Twink and then not wait for an answer. contexts/explanations under readmore for the curious

lae'zel and esper do morning exercises and meditation together. most of the time they pass the time in silence, but sometimes they're joined by the local wildlife. esper is a great fan of showing their friends things they might find interesting as a form of affection instead of words, especially with lae'zel, since they have a common discomfort with small talk.

esper doesn't like looking at themself in the mirror, so their makeup is always ancient and haphazardly applied, a fact that distresses the more image-conscientious shadowheart. she and esper have a sibling-like relationship fuelled by mutual amnesia and goth solidarity, among other things, but sometimes a sister has to take it upon herself to fix her stinky sibling's wings.

i already expanded on wyll and esper's dynamic a bit in this piece and i didn't feel like drawing the same thing twice, but suffice it to say, they have absolutely no idea how to talk to each other, but still look out for each other. the joke here is about how i've done a couple of long rests in-game with just alcohol i've found. hey 5 camp supplies is 5 camp supplies

jaheira unearths esper's forgotten mother issues. no real things to add here. no thoughts only cub.

gale said way back in act 1 that esper reminded him of tara, and esper isn't leaning into that on purpose per se, but as i said for lae'zel, they like getting their friends things those friends might enjoy. they also love chaos. show your evocation wizard some love by bringing him extremely destructive spells to play with. show your durge some love by casting chain lightning and letting them watch

i have no justification for this one lmao. esper isn't a Huge fan of being picked up and hefted around like a sack of oats, but maybe they should've thought of that before being small and scoop-uppable. socially, esper and halsin don't click especially well, but esper is fundamentally a creature, and therefore pretty easy for halsin to understand. obviously they don't mind that much :J

esper and karlach voted two most touch-starved nerds in faerun, they help each other cope by sleeping in a cuddle pile like cats. karlach runs warm even after getting her engine tuned up, but esper doesn't mind. she's cozy

astarion is by far the person esper is the most verbal with, probably because he's the only one who really thinks the durgeisms that slip out are funny and #relatable. everyone else errs on the side of caution with esper, but astarion knows he's allowed to take liberties with them, and he does. they have the same sense of humour. these two freaks are completely insufferable together because they're vibing so hard on a level incomprehensible to everyone around them, but astarion can put a stop to esper's self-destructive internal stress engine, and esper can drag him into helping and working hard. the others have no choice but to tolerate them as a couple because no matter how unhinged they are as a unit, they're so much worse for society on the whole as individuals. do not separate them

if you read all this, hope you enjoyed this illumination of esper's party dynamics, i love you <3 enjoy

[cheekylittlepupp]

You all know A Astarion's epilogue outfit, but have you ever wondered whether it's bats or dragons? Me and @egooppidum were wondering that today and we came to the conclusion that it's 100% dragons. The symbolism is SUPERB. Hats off to Larian for this.

Brace yourselves this might be a bit long ~

"Red dragons are covetous, evil creatures, interested only in their own well-being, vanity and the extension of their treasure hoards. They are supremely confident of their own abilities."

"Rarely, red dragons would adopt a protective yet patronizing manner towards creatures they saw as inferior that lived within their self-imposed borders" - Oh you precious dark consort, how lucky you are to have the greatest vampire lord as your master, for him to bless you with his eternal gift, turn you into his spawn, his right hand.

"Red dragons believed that if a being was not strong enough to protect what it had, then it did not deserve to keep it. This applied not just to treasure, but to life. They despised weakness among their own kind." Literally ANY line from him when he talks about his former 'weak and pathetic self'.

Him being obssessed with power and how that's the only important thing in this world. This would be huge if I added all of those lines tbh.

"Red dragons were known for their swift and fiery tempers—if angered, they would explode into a destructive rage and become even more impulsive and vengeful" - Practically his entire dialogue when you break up with him after the ascension or declining to become his spawn. Even subtly threatening you

"Such rages were in part due to their fragile pride and feeling that any loss, insult, or defeat meant a loss of status if not addressed—causing chaos and destruction assuaged wounded pride and mitigated lost status" - He sees himself as the best version of himself right now and the fact that you reject him, in any kind of way wounds him greatly. This is why he starts hurling insults at you, to hurt you back, to try and cover up the fact that you just shattered his ego

"They were the most avaricious and were constantly looking to expand their hoards with treasure, they were the most obsessive collectors." Recall how he calls you his treasure and how you’ll be together forever, he will have you forever. He is in fact obsessed with wealth. He would also like to sequester you in a deep chamber in his lair, I mean palace and keep you all to himself.

"They would also boast about their magnificent hoards." Him at the epilogue party. ESPECIALLY in the non romanced version.

"Preferring their own company and engaging with others only when it had purpose, they were solitary creatures and cared little for news of other types of dragons, though they did look for news of other red dragons in their area and of affairs in the world in general. They used other charmed creatures as messengers, informants, and spies to bring them information"

"And of course they were recognized by their scarlet and crimson scaled hides" self explanatory really ~

"The vanity of red dragons was often revealed in their prideful postures and the looks of disdain with which they regarded all others"

"To have is nothing, to keep is all."

"In fact, in many ways, they were most like hoursecats" I had to add this, it's too funny

Okay I'm stopping here because This will be massive if I don't shut up. We can replace "red dragons" with Astarion and it would fit perfectly. I'm leaving you guys the link for the red dragon wiki, have fun with it ~

https://forgottenrealms.fandom.com/wiki/Red_dragon

[thiriann]

"The Darkest Place" - Oneshot

You can also find me on AO3

A smutty oneshot

Rating: Explicit

Words: 7k

Pairing: Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Original Female Character

Warnings: 18+, Vampire Spawn Astarion  × Tiefling Tav ,Traumatized Astarion (Baldur's Gate) ,Getting to Know Each Other ,Falling In Love, Injury, Caring Astarion, Vampire Bites, Blood Drinking, Vaginal Fingering,PIV sex ,one shot

Summary:

After a grievous wound Astarion does his best to take care of Thiriann while trying to figure out just when his simple plan fell apart completely.

It took one hit to take her down. A single strike from those shadowed claws sent her to her knees, writhing in agony. Astarion screamed at her to get up, even though he knew there was no way she could.  As he tried to run to her a wraith pulled him by the arm, its cold touch chilling him. Another sprung up next to it with a sickening sound effectively surrounding him. Somehow, he managed to recall Thiriann had given him a flask of holy water. He'd thought it a joke at first, something to throw at Cazador, as if it would help.  It decimated the horrors as it shattered.

By the time he reached her, shadow tendrils were already trying to bleed into her skin, her glowing blue eyes blackened entirely by the curse. Shadowheart was at her side before him, her eyes wide with alarm.

"I can't do anything about this out here. We must get her to camp—fast!"

He knelt to cradle her in his arms, holding her close to his chest. She felt cold to the touch, even to him, even through his gloves and fear clutched at his gut like a vice.

He hadn't even noticed how much she was bleeding until he stood up and her blood gushed down and onto his legs.

The return to camp was mostly a blur as they sprinted through the gnarly terrain.  

Upon their arrival, the group sprang into action, laying her on a bedroll beside the fire and Astarion was practically shoved away by the healers, his protest dying on his lips as he caught sight of her pallid face. She looked dead. Or somehow even worse than dead—her cheeks hollow, eyes sunken, her color drained from blue to an ashen white, with blackened blood smelling like rot trickling from her lips. The scent of decay was overpowering.

Gale began chanting in a loud thundering voice, magic crackling through the air like static. Abruptly, the air cleared, as if a cloud had been lifted. The curse was largely purged from her body, yet her appearance remained unchanged. Halsin, meanwhile, was a blur of motion, concocting a myriad of remedies at her head.

"I need to apply this on the wounds. Remove her garments." He instructed.

Astarion finally looked away from her face. Three long gashes ran over her stomach all the way down to her hips. With swift resolve, he spurred into action taking his dagger and splitting her top and bottoms in one swift motion. The fastest and worst way he'd ever undressed someone.

Halsin began applying the salve he'd made around the edges of the cuts and with a relief Astarion noticed the bleeding turn from a flowing stream to a trickle, though the stench of rot remained, lingering in the air.

"We need to apply this again in two hours and maybe attempt to give her a healing potion then as well. " Halsin stated as he prepared more of the medicine.

The group's panic finally started to ease. Astarion surveyed her form once more, finding it as gaunt and drained as her face. It made him feel ill. His eyes landed on the only part of her that still had some color. Two pink dots on her breast right above her nipple. It took him a moment to understand what he was looking at. It was his bite mark. With her drinking healing potions every day it didn't really scar, smoother new skin had grown on the bite but because it was still relatively fresh, the color was pink not yet fully healed. She had matching ones on her neck as well as on her thigh.

The marks were practically glowing on her. He quickly glanced to the others to see if they've noticed, only to be met with Gale's stern glare.

"We should... ahem... cover her, to preserve her modesty," Astarion suggested looking away.

Dashing to her travel chest, he rummaged for any piece of clothing he could find. The party already suspected him of leading her into all manner of vile debaucherous acts —admittedly, they were not wrong—but such intimacies were meant to be private and now everyone had seen the evidence of their activities.

Regardless, none of that mattered now. And it wasn't as if their opinion of him could sink any lower.

He grabbed a loose robe, one he'd never seen her wear, and returned to her side. He draped it over her like a blanket, unsure if he should move her more than that.

“When do you think she’ll wake up?” he asked Halsin.

" We have no way of knowing for certain," Halsin responded, his voice betraying a hint of concern. "It could be hours, perhaps days. The curse has burrowed deep; she’s not out of the woods yet."

“Can we really leave her like this in the open, in the middle of camp?” Shadowheart voiced looking around.

“Bring her into my tent, at least she’ll have some privacy.” Astarion spoke. He hadn’t even thought about it as he said it but a strange surge of protectiveness rising within him pushed the words out of his mouth. 

“Not a chance.” Shadowheart balked at him.

“No offense but your tent is hardly a sanitary choice for an ill person, Astarion.” Gale spoke up as well.

“I’ll have you know my tent is the least cluttered out of all of yours, thank you very much. She's already quite accustomed to spending her nights there anyway," he countered, his innuendo intending to shock the others into agreement.

“That will probably be for the best,” Halsin agreed "In a confined space, I can prepare a steam inhalation to aid her breathing."

Gale narrowed his eyes but miraculously stayed silent.

And with that, the argument was concluded and she was carried to Astarion’s tent along with a solid stack of herbs, potions, and a steaming bowl of medicinal brew by her head.

Despite the sanctuary of his tent, Astarion was restless. He sat by her, attempting to read, but worry knotted his insides, rendering him unable to focus. Halsin was right; her breathing sounded terrible. She was wheezing on every inhale, the sound horribly resembling a death rattle. 

He was being foolish, surely. They had survived worse. By the morrow, it’d be as if nothing happened. Yet, the memory of that Harper wouldn’t leave his mind. The way he had succumbed to the shadows within moments, undeath claiming him irreversibly.

That couldn't be her fate. It simply couldn't.

“Did I say you could die?” he asked in his typical playful tone. It sounded deafeningly loud in the dark.

“Come on, wake up.” He continued whispering “We need you alive.”

No answer came but her quiet breaths.

Cautiously he leaned down and pressed his ear to her chest. Her heartbeat was quiet but steady, persisting.

A wave of calm washed over him and for the first time since entering the Shadowcursed Lands, he relaxed.

Exhaustion from the day's events and his lingering fears weighed heavily on him.

He laid gently beside her and let the rhythmic pulse of her heart coax him into slumber.

Astarion chased off the druid when he’d come with the salve a few hours later, insisting that he’d apply it himself. Backing up his claim with the fact he had intimate familiarity with her form already. Her wounds had stopped bleeding but as the morning came, she still hadn't woken up.

" What should we do? We can’t stay at camp all day," Shadowheart pressed, infinitely curious to learn more about her mistress’ domain.

“Normally, I’d agree but we can’t exactly leave when Thiriann is in such a grievous condition,” Gale interjected.

"A single affliction won't subdue her for long; she's bound to rally soon," Lae’zel asserted confidently. “It will be beneficial for us to look for supplies in the meantime.”

“Lae’zel’s right, our rations won’t last long,” Shadowheart added, her siding with the Githyanki betraying her eagerness to explore this “endless darkness”.

"If it’s all the same to you I’d rather stay .I’m not exactly dying to go back out there.” Astarion said, refusing to admit he wouldn’t leave Thiriann’s side unless they dragged him away.

"I, too, will stay," Halsin offered, “But should you find anything regarding the curse, please do let me know.”

The days melded into one another, with the party venturing forth and returning at dusk, leaving Astarion and Halsin to keep vigil. Karlach spoke of a sanctuary amidst the curse and a meeting with a Baldurian legend—an idol from her youth— but Astarion couldn’t find it in him to care at the time.

He was starting to get annoyed at Thiriann’s insistence on not waking up. But deep inside he knew the irritation was covering up the dread, the thought of what it would mean if she really didn’t wake, or woke up as something much worse.

He cared about her, more than he was ready to admit. He hadn’t cared about anyone but himself for so long, maybe ever. Staring at her pale sunken face in bewilderment he wasn't sure how it'd happened.

 But there stretched out on his poor imitation of a bed she looked so small and fragile and he felt an overwhelming pull to do everything in his power to make her better. It itched under his skin along with thoughts of her that buzzed in his head day and night- when her wounds needed redressing, when to make her a new steam inhalation, when to push healing potion past her lips but slowly so she wouldn't choke, he even gave her a sponge bath to wash off the dried up blood.

He hadn’t eaten anything since they left the mountain pass, and his hunger was gnawing at him relentlessly. He realized he must have gotten spoiled in the last month if a mere few hungry days were getting him this worked up.

He supposed he could go hunt back at the mountain pass but that would require leaving her side and she needed him.

The thought occurred to him that he could ask one of his companions for some blood but their disdainful glances whenever Thiriann permitted him to feed dissuaded him. He also may have lashed out at them here and there in the last couple of days. Possibly hissed at Gale. But it's not like they would have agreed anyway, most of them had strictly told him not to look at their necks weeks ago when everything had come to light.The only person he could see accepting to give him some would scorch him alive. Perhaps if she bled into a cup, and he waited a day or two, it might cool to a tolerable temperature. A miserable sigh escaped him; desperation was setting in.

One evening, driven by necessity, he approached Shadowheart.

"What?" She asked flatly and he flinched at the chill in her stare, the words he needed to say caught in his throat.

"I was just wondering if you might have an extra healing potion for our dearest leader," he chickened out, coming up with an excuse on the spot.

Her eyes softened immediately, of course for Thiriann they would " Yes, of course."  she replied, delving into her bag. "You know, you don't have to bear the burden of her care alone. We're here to help."

"She's not a burden," he snapped, snatching the potion and striding away.

"That's not what I meant," she called after him, her words lost in the distance.

He contemplated asking Halsin for blood,he certainly had some to spare. But he wasn’t sure he liked the way Halsin looked at her. Or at him for that matter. He'd been around long enough to know what desire looked like and he did not want to deal with that right now.

No, he could wait. She'd wake soon and then he could hunt, once assured of her recovery.

As night enveloped the camp once again, he grabbed a book and settled beside her. He’d taken to reading to her out loud as of late. It made the tense quiet more bearable, and he liked the sound of his own voice so that was a plus. She seemed to enjoy his voice too before.

 “As the paladin of Sune stepped into the forbidden temple, his gaze met that of a striking dragonborn cleric.”

"I've encountered my share of daggers, sir. Best not to brandish yours so carelessly," Astarion mimicked in a feigned feminine tone.

"Rest assured, you've yet to lay your eyes on such a mighty weapon. Brace yourself to take my blessed greatsword," he continued, deepening his voice for the male character.

A snort interrupted his dramatic performance, and his gaze shifted to Thiriann's face. Her eyes were open, filled with mirth as she stared at him.

“Oh, don’t stop on my account. Please, do tell more about your mighty sword.” She bit her lip trying to contain her smile, her voice was rough as gravel, but she was talking, she was awake, she was herself and she was talking.

“Darling, you…” His voice broke, emotion swelling. “You finally stop being melodramatic and the first thing you do is ask about my greatsword? Not surprised at all, my dear.”

She openly laughed then, and he felt as if the shadow curse itself had lifted. He wanted to hug her, he wanted to kiss her, just any type of touch that solidified that she was alive, instead he stood there, frozen, held back by his insecurities as she struggled to sit up.

“How long was I out?” she asked, wincing as she sat up.

“Four days,” he replied, closing the book and rising to meet her gaze.

“What a right mess,” she groaned, dragging her hands over her face. “We should have been in Moonrise by now.”

“I think the others will forgive you dear. They thought the Shadowcurse might have claimed you for good.”

She went quiet at that, staring at her hands.

“Perhaps it did, for a while.”

He stared at her shocked while she continued.

“I journeyed to a place... elsewhere. Somewhere dark, devoid of wind, absent of sound. It reminded me of…” she hesitated “…somewhere I’d been before, years ago. The darkest place.” She smiled but it was a twisted thing, like it hurt to do so.

Shaking off the shadows of her recollection, she turned to him with concern. " And what about you? Did anyone else get hurt?”

“We got away unscathed. Some of us have better survival instincts, darling.” he quipped with playful arrogance.

She laughed again then, bringing more brightness into his tent.

"Forgive me for lacking your uncanny dodging abilities."

"One cannot expect to match such excellence," he gestured to himself, then with a quieter voice he added, “Just don’t do it again.”

She swallowed before looking away. “I’ll try.”

“Why am I in your tent?” she asked as her gaze wandered the canvas confines.

“Well, we couldn’t exactly leave you in the middle of camp like a drying fish now, could we?” he remarked with feigned exasperation.

“Oh…” she looked away guiltily, “Sorry for imposing on you like that.”

“Nonsense, darling, you know my tent is ever open for you, any time.” He tried to sound flirtatious but came out shockingly sincere at the end.

She smiled a little before standing up, a slight wobble betraying her weakness, but she steadied herself with determination.

“I am grateful for your hospitality, truly. But nature calls and I’m starving so I’ll head out.”

He was at her side in an instant, supporting her as her knee gave out on the first step.

“I’ve got you. Why don’t you let me help? The last thing we need now is to have you collapsing just as you've returned to us."

Thiriann bit her lip, considering his offer. She was pretty sure she could make it on her own but was reluctant to lose the feeling of his arms around her.

“I’d like that.”

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

Astarion stood around the edges of the shadows waiting for Thiriann to finish her business when he heard her call out. “What happened to my clothes?”

“They were torn beyond repair I’m afraid. We had to discard them.”

“Damn, that was the only good leather I could find in this wilderness.” She bemoaned “And what of my small clothes?”

"Those too," He failed to mention his involvement in the tearing of those.

She looked uncomfortable as she emerged from the bush.

“That was my last pair.”

“How unfortunate.” his tone lacking any semblance of genuineness.

She offered a wry smile and an eye roll in response.

“Shall we, my dear?” he extended his arm in mock imitation of a courtly gentleman.

"Your gallantry is most appreciated, good sir. Lead the way," she accepted, allowing herself to lean on him just a little during their walk back.

And for a moment his mind drifted, away from this curse ridden place and into the parks of the lower city. Holding hands just as they did now, walking to a blanket setup in spotted shade, a bottle of rich red wine waiting for them.

Stop it! He chastised himself.

What was the point of these childish fantasies? They could bring nothing but more misery.

She wouldn’t want these things with him and he shouldn’t be wanting them in the first place. It was all so stupid. It must have been her close proximity that was bringing these on, that and the fact he had to play her nurse for the last week and his hunger and all the romantic books he’d been reading by her bedside, lack of sleep, they were confusing him, urging him to look for something that wasn’t there, to hope for something that wouldn’t happen.

And yet when she leaned against his side a little more, he felt his breath catch in his throat as her warmth spread through his side.

"Do we have any eggs?" she asked suddenly, breaking his reverie.

"What?" he asked in confusion, as she released his arm and began sifting through a supply pack. They had reached the campfire before he noticed.

"Never mind, found some," she declared, settling down to prepare her meal.

Her knife danced through the vegetables with a speed and precision he hadn't seen from her before. She moved with such ease, like she'd done this thousands of times, tossing her ingredients swiftly into the frying pan with a few eggs and some spices that Gale had left lying about.

"You know how to cook," he stated even though there was a question in his voice.

"Because I made an omelette?" She asked incredulously.

"Because of the way you handle a blade," he clarified.

She raised an eyebrow at that, unsure if he was trying to make a sexual innuendo. Knowing him, probably he was.

“I wasn't sure you knew how to hold one, what with that debacle back at the forge.” He smirked, amusement dancing in his eyes at the memory.  The only other time he'd seen her actually attempt to use a knife was when she had failed spectacularly at cutting off the drow's head and he'd had to intervene to help.

“I'll have you know I'm actually quite decent with a dagger.” She replied arrogantly, waving her blade around in the air in a way that did not backup her claim at all.

"And yes, I can cook. Had my heart set on becoming a chef once upon a time," she confessed, her gaze lost in the flames. " I travelled all over to learn from the best.  The quests I've taken for some of my recipes..." A self-deprecating chuckle escaped her as she reminisced. "It all seems so trivial now."

She retrieved her meal from the fire and took a mouthful, not waiting for it to cool. She always preferred it hot anyway.

"You've never cooked for this lot. Not up to your master chef standards, are they? " He teased.

" It's not that but I'd rather it stay this way. If they knew, I'd be roped into cooking duty, and I much prefer being served. Besides, Gale's ego might not survive any more competition."

"Understandable," he conceded, appreciating the appeal of having your meal delivered to your bed every night.

"So only you know my little secret. I’m trusting you to keep it." She said, trying to sound mischievous.

This is so typical of her, he thought with some exasperation. Her 'secrets' were nothing more than hidden talents and achievements. Nothing dark lingered around her, no deep pools of morally questionable choices. Sometimes it was infuriating how innocent she was.

" We should introduce you to a bit of corruption if these are the worst of your secrets, darling," he jested, turning back to the fire, oblivious to the shadow that crossed her face.

" We all have things that haunt us, Astarion," she replied after a pause, her voice heavy and unexpectedly sad.

He looked at her then. For the longest time, he'd felt like he'd had the most world experiences than anyone in their group because he'd been alive the longest. Thiriann's naivete especially made her seem so childish to him sometimes. Like she barely even knew the types of people that lived out there, all the possible worst the world could offer.

But looking at her now he finally saw her experiences etched upon her face. She looked worn down, aged, her shoulders slumped in defeat and her eyes filled with misery and acceptance.

It occurred to him, not for the first time, that they didn't know each other at all.

That was understandable, they’d barely known one another for a month, and most of the time they were running around in some crisis or another.

What didn’t make sense though was his desire for that to change. He wanted to know what made her look like that, and to never speak of it again just to avoid seeing this misery in her.

But once again he remained motionless, caught in the uncertainty of how to reach out and offer the comfort she so clearly needed. So, he just nodded.

“You can talk to me, you know. We are technically in this together. “ He said in the end, his voice soft but uncharacteristically serious.

“Before I was taken by the Nautiloid, long before, there was a man I knew.” She began, uncertainty evident in her voice probably wondering if he was even interested in hearing her out. He turned his body fully towards her, trying his hardest to convey he was listening.

 “He was my senior, my commander. I served under him for years. And he was a right asshole, never had a kind word to say. You could do everything right and he’d still have a ready plethora of insults to throw at you. Our troops hated him almost as much as the enemy.”

She smiled faintly as if this was the fondest part of her memory.

"But he was also fiercely loyal, utterly devoted to the woman he loved. I admired him for that. He would do anything for her, even the most heinous acts. I thought there was something noble in that blind devotion."

Astarion scoffed. "Your ideas of romance are rather twisted, aren't they, darling?"

She shrugged, not particularly offended."Too many lonely years and trashy books, I suppose."

He grimaced, her answer hitting too close to home.

It’s not that he was in any position to lecture her on the matter given his own ideas of what was considered romantic came from much the same way.

“So, what happened to this rude smitten fool? I presume he met his grim end running after his lady’s coattails?” he asked unable to shake off the bitterness.

“Yeah, you could say that.”she replied and Astarion’s smirk fell as he saw the grim look on her face.

“When the tides of war turned and it became clear we’d lose and be accused of treason, we were instructed to infiltrate the rebellion ranks, a last-ditch effort to gather intelligence. But no further orders never came. Instead, we were sent to eliminate a hostile entity.

When we got there he already knew. Hells He had orchestrated it all. He wanted to die by our hands, by my hands..." Her voice trailed off, her eyes filled with a profound sadness.

 "I had to be a part of it, couldn't stop it, couldn't run away, couldn't…" She shook her head trying to push away the memory.

Astarion understood this feeling all too well. The helplessness, the forced complicity in acts he never wanted.

 A sudden overwhelming feeling of sadness and pity settled in his chest at the thought that she knew what those things felt like.

"You were a pawn in their game, nothing more. A toy to be manipulated," he said, his voice gentle. "It's pointless to blame yourself when you couldn't have changed anything. The best thing to do is forget and move on."

She nodded, a sad smile playing on her lips. "That’s easier said than done." she whispered.

“I know.” He said, voice filled with a quiet understanding as he handed her a bottle.

She accepted the wine, taking a deep swig without tasting it at all.

A moment passed before she spoke, her voice flat and devoid of emotion.

“He died an asshole, lived an asshole and no one mourned him.”

“Except you.” 

“Except me ," she confirmed, her gaze drifting back to the dancing flames. Lost in the countless memories, she seemed to relive a bygone era.

“He gave the most insane orders sometimes," she murmured, breaking the silence. "Once, he commanded us to hurl bird droppings at the enemy, a tactic he called 'psychological warfare'."

Astarion's brow furrowed in disbelief. "You can't be serious."

A wry smile crept across her lips. "Oh, I am. And it worked. The look of utter confusion on their faces was priceless."

“Tell me everything.” Astarion said, his curiosity sufficiently piqued.

As the night progressed, he could see her eyelids were getting heavy, her words slurred slightly as she slumped more and more. Soon they'd both retreat to their respective beds and settle for the night. His tent looked strangely dark and lonesome despite being close to the fire.

A gust of wind flew past them followed by an unsettling howl from the shadows and she shivered.

She looked at him with uncertainty and what he was sure was longing, resembling a stray puppy waiting at someone's doorstep.

“Thank you again for… before and for tonight, for staying with me. I-I’m not sure when was the last time someone did this for me. “

She looked at him with so much gratitude in her eyes and heat bloomed in his chest, making his heart clench.

Her words were plain, just a simple thank you yet they unexpectedly lodged in his chest. When was the last time someone had thanked him for anything? Or he done something worthy of gratitude?

“Don’t mention it,dear. I should leave you to rest.” He said preparing to walk out trying his damnest not to betray how his composure had crumbled.

“Astarion,” she called out after him “when was the last time you fed?”

“Well, you know,” he started gesturing with a flair “I pop out to hunt every now and then.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“You’re starving.” She said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and he had to ask himself how could she possibly know.

“Come, you can feed from me if you’d like.”

He balked at her, outraged.  “Have you lost your mind, darling? You just woke up.”

“I’m fine,I’m just tired.” She waved him off “The curse has left my body completely.”

He eyed her uncertainly. The thought of drinking from her now made him uneasy but even at her mere suggestion, he could feel his hunger resurfacing. His eyes trailed to her neck involuntarily and he felt his stomach clench violently at the sight. He hated this part of himself, more beast than man in his uncontrollable desire. But holding back was never his strong suit and when she’d offered so willingly, it was harder than ever to resist.

“Why don’t you come back to my tent then?” He asked suddenly “It will save you from the draft and we could have ourselves a little privacy.”

Laying her down on the pillows that he’d arranged his eyes drifted once more to her neck. He swallowed painfully, his throat dry as a desert.

 “Are you really sure?” He heard himself murmur.

“Yes,I’ll be alright. Now come here.” She moved to make space for him.

That warm bubble of affection in his chest which he'd largely been ignoring was pushing insistently at his ribs as he stared at her bright blue eyes.

Sliding his body over hers, Astarion lowered himself on top of her. He bit quickly, trying to minimize her pain.

Finally, it was as if a damn burst and all of the feelings he had felt the last few days- the fear of losing her, the stress of her illness, the relief of her finally awakening and the incredible joy of her blood - were threatening to overwhelm him. She was so warm and so alive and he felt that very life essence flow into him filling him with happiness and comfort.

He groaned into her neck, needy and desperate and it set her skin on fire. Lost in the sensations he let his body guide him closer and closer to her. Their bodies slotted together, her breasts pressing up into his chest, one of his legs sliding between hers.

Moving back from her neck he kissed her, momentarily forgetting his lips were still coated with her blood. He tried to pull away once the realization hit but she chased him with her lips unwilling to let them part.

As he dipped his tongue into her hot, wet mouth he found that it is not enough. She wanted him and he wanted more, more heat, more connection.

He could feel his body responding to her already. Her fresh blood going straight to fuelling his arousal.

She squirmed under him, dragging her thigh against his length sending a jolt of pleasure through him and he instinctively ground against it, trying to prolong the sensation. At the same time, he pressed his leg against her core forcing her to gasp into his mouth.

He was such a fool. But no one before had made him feel this way, no one had compared to her. 

Out of all the feelings he had learned to suppress, he had no experience dealing with this one in particular. He had tried to nip it in the bud but now he wasn’t sure he wanted it to stop or that he could even stop it.

Maybe some part of him had wanted to fall for her. Wanted to allow himself to feel once again. Up until recently he hadn’t even considered love a possibility. What a terribly cliche way to realize one's feelings.

He glided his hand down her robe undoing the ties holding it together. She was still fully nude under and he wasted no time grasping a breast and rolling her nipple between his fingers.

She reached for his shirt trying to untuck it from his pants but the gesture brought a wave of unease so he swiftly grabbed the bottom of it and lifted it over his head. He nudged her knee with his own, fully settling between her legs and she wasted no time pulled him in for another hungry kiss. With their naked chests pressed together, he could feel her heartbeat against his ribs as if it were his own.

They ground against each other, the feeling of his leather pants against her naked cunt only fuelling her desire. She gasped at the contact and arched her back into him, her nails digging into his shoulders. He could feel her scorching heat against his member even through his pants and felt himself throb in response. Thiriann reached down to unlace them but he stopped her hands.

“Not until you’re ready for me, darling.”

She whined in protest but moved her hands back. Having her obediently listen to him always managed to bring a small thrill of excitement.

He reached between their bodies dragging his fingers over her centre. She was wet but not wet enough, it would most likely hurt if he entered her now. He started lowering himself down her body, but felt her tensing under him, her hands on his shoulders squeezing firmly, keeping him in place.

“No, don’t go.” She pleaded.

“Don't worry, I'm here, love.”

 “I want you inside me, can we…like this?”

"You'll have to come first, darling. Do that for me, just relax, I’ve got you.”

Astarion glanced at her face, intent on watching her expression as he eased his finger into her. She groaned at the intrusion but tried to breathe through the temporary discomfort. Moving carefully, he began pumping his finger in and out of her, focused on opening her up. Slowly she melted under his gentle ministrations and when he dragged his finger over that place inside of her, she couldn’t stop herself from moaning his name. Her quiet breathy mews filled his tent as he continued to assault the delicate spot causing her eyes to roll back and her back to arch into him.

It felt unexpectedly embarrassing to be able to feel his muscles moving between them as he pleasured her. His soft gasps of effort by her ear combined with the scent of his sweat and perfume filling her nostrils proved more erotic than she was prepared for. Sooner than she would have liked she was nearing her climax.

“Come for me love, I can tell you’re almost there.” he whispered in her ear.

A furious blush took over her cheeks despite the blood loss but she did just that.  Moaning his name she came, her walls spasmed around him squeezing his finger so tight he feared it might break. She relaxed back into the pillows and he gave her a moment to recover, marvelling at the slick that now dripped down her thighs.

As he reached to unlace his pants, a part of him hesitated, the unease he felt every time before bedding someone would stubbornly not leave him alone. He still pushed it down.  Having no patience to fight himself he opened his breeches and swiftly took out his cock. 

Rocking his hips slowly against her opening, he inched his way inside before pushing forward and bottoming out in one swift movement. A soft sigh left his lips at how warm she was, how welcoming her body felt.

“Does this feel good, darling?” he asked, giving a few slow, experimental thrusts; she was still so very tight around his cock he could barely move.

“Gods,yes-...You know it does,” she pouted and he smirked, kissing her once again.

He set a gentle pace, pulling nearly all the way out of her before languidly rolling his hips forward, inch by inch, drawing moans from both of their throats. “You’re going to have to be quiet, you know,” he whispered against her ear.

He finished one particularly delicious thrust, groaning and burying his face in her neck, trying to muffle the sound. “Gods, you feel good,” he mumbled, luxuriating in the feel of her pressing around his cock, hot and wet and soft as silk.

Wordless little noises of pleasure escaped her as she started to rock back against him, joining into the rhythm he had set. Their motions felt like the waves of the ocean crashing against the sea. But his movements soon became practiced as instinct started to take over and he felt himself submerge into the fog despite his efforts to stay in the moment. He wanted to be here, with her, feeling this connection but his mind slipped away, beaches and vast waters behind his eyelids.

Suddenly he felt her grip his shoulders and push against him. When he opened his eyes the first thing he saw was the tent canvas before the rest of the surroundings began to come to him. The blanket that was under him, the stacks of books by side and various bottles of potions and blood strewn about. And finally, the woman on top of him who was straddling him now. The gentle feeling of her as she ground her hips against him and her glowing eyes attracting him like a moth to a flame.

“Oh? Are you looking for a ride, darling?” he teased, surprising himself at how even his voice sounded.

Thiriann answered him by leaning down, hair falling around him like wavy black curtains so she could kiss him again. He gripped her supple thighs as she rode him, savouring the sensation of her wrapping tightly around his length as they licked into each other's mouths, tongues sliding against one another.

She lifted herself up over him, letting her hands wander up and down his front, watching his muscles tighten and relax under the gentle pressure. Her fingers brushed over one of his nipples and she relished in the shudder the gesture drew out of him. He groaned, eyelids fluttering as she began to move earnestly on top of him.

Instinctively he gripped her hips pulling her down hard on his length causing them both to moan.

“That’s…cheating-” she gasped out as he kept thrusting from under her, refusing to surrender the upper hand.

“You were expecting me to play fair?” he smirked at her amused and Thiriann rolled her eyes. Taking the momentary distraction, he rolled them again and pined her under him once more.

“Fuck!” she hissed into his mouth but he didn't let her recover as he began bucking into her with desperate urgency. Driving deeper and deeper with every thrust he could feel the wetness gushing out of her, soaking him and the robe under her. She spread her legs further allowing him to pump freely as she held onto his shoulders, dragging her nails over his skin but keeping them far above his scars. He growled into her neck as her heat squeezed him impossibly tighter trying to draw him in even closer.

She saw stars as he ground his hips against hers, putting just enough pressure on her clit to push her over the edge.

“Astarion -” That was all she managed to get out before she came, hard, spasming and clenching violently around his cock. Ripples of pleasure spread through her body as her sweet moans slipped into his ear like sobs in tandem with the rhythmic contractions.

He bit into her neck again and followed her over, groaning into the mess he’d made of her throat. She held him as he shook with it, pleasure obliterating his every thought and for a moment there was nothing but the blissful sensations of her warmth. Half-gasps, half-moans spilled out of his throat as he rode the aftershocks, fangs buried deep in her neck.

After his body stopped shuddering and the fog of pleasure lifted, Astarion finally collapsed on top of her bringing a soft sigh from her lips.

He felt he should get up, move away, and dress himself but he didn't want to leave, to go out of her vicinity where the cold would surely sweep in and chill him to the bone. He wanted to stay here in her arms, to soak in the warmth of her body, of her presence. Every inch between them felt too much, too long.

He relaxed onto her further, head still buried in the crook of her neck and she could tell he had fallen asleep. Unusual as it was, he drew breath even in slumber, the gentle cold exhales caressing her collarbone. The way he curled up further reminded her of a cat, maybe an overgrown undead cat. He hissed like one too when irritated.  A wave of protectiveness surged within her and she wrapped her arms tighter around him. He would probably hate it but this felt nice, holding him like this, enjoying the security of his embrace and keeping him safe in hers, next to her heart.

[ashesofdeadempires]

«Vampires differ in their motivations when creating offspring. Some fledglings do it accidentally, not yet understanding the consequences of killing a foe. Others do it to create slaves for themselves. Some few seem to need contact with members of their own kind and create companions. This latter group is more likely to become the sentimental "parents" described above and is hence most likely to meet destruction at the hands of their offspring.»

«When a vampire is destroyed, all semblance of control over its offspring immediately vanishes. Most offspring will immediately go about their own business. I have heard of some rare creatures who have sought the destroyers of their creator and wreaked vengeance on them. I find this somewhat hard to believe because it implies a sense of loyalty, even love of a kind, between vampires. Still, stranger things have proved to be true.»

«An especially rare and unique relationship between vampires is in that of the "Bride" or "Groom." Actually, considering that the fact all vampires were once mortal, it is almost surprising that this phenomenon is not more prevalent. No matter what changes undeath has wrought, some vestiges of mortal thoughts and aspirations still survive, l am sure. Eternity can weigh heavily on the spirit-even the spirit of a vampire. Of all the burdens of immortality, perhaps the greatest is loneliness. To whom can a vampire bare its soul and admit its fears? With whom can the vampire vent some of the intense sensuality that seems to pervade its breed? From whom can it receive consolation for the past, comfort for the present, and hope for the future? An eternity of solitude can be an eternity of pain.»

Astarion: I did miss you, you know. There is a sense of loneliness that comes with power. We did share a wonderful adventure, you and I. A pity to see it end, in some ways. But we have great new lives stretching out before us. And great new adventures to go on. I will never forget the time we spent together, though. And I know you'll never forget me.

«It is no wonder, then, that vampires sometimes long for a special companion. Fortunately for these tortured souls--and unfortunately for their mortal victims-vampires are capable of creating such companions. These special minions, if such a term truly applies, are known as "Brides" and "Grooms." These terms may seem inappropriate, carrying with them as they do the emotional "baggage" of love and marriage. While marriage is not an issue, a form of love, or at least of emotional bonding, is involved, so the terms are not as inappropriate as they may seem at first.» Player: You made me your spawn... What is going to happen to me? Astarion: Spawn is an ugly word. I really do prefer consort.

«Creating a bride or groom, although seemingly a simple process, requires an exhausting exercise of much power by the creating vampire. For this reason, only vampires of advanced age and capability can even assay this procedure. A bride or groom can be created only by a vampire of age category Ancient or greater, and not even all of those are capable of doing so.»

Gale: So, Astarion. I hear your relationship has taken on a new aspect recently... Astarion: My life has taken on a new aspect. It is only natural that my relationships change as well. As the Vampire Ascendant, I can grant my lover immortality, and bind them to me forever. Raphael: In full, the contract states that Cazador will be granted knowledge of an infernal ritual so vile it has never been performed. The Rite of Profane Ascension. It promises to be a marvellous ceremony. Very elaborate, incredibly ancient, and entirely diabolical. If he completes the rite, he will become a new kind of being - the Vampire Ascendant. All the strengths of his vampiric form will be amplified, and alongside them he will enjoy the luxuries of the living. The arousals and appetites of man will return to him, and unlike Astarion, he will have no need of a parasite to protect him from the sun.

«The first step requires that the vampire find an appropriate mortal to be the bride. […] Usually this problem solves itself. Very rare is the vampire who decides in isolation, "I will make a bride," and then seeks out a mortal to fill the bill. In the vast majority of cases, the process occurs in the reverse order. The vampire is drawn emotionally to a mortal and decides, because of the strength of this emotion, to make her his bride. The nature of this emotion can vary widely. It may simply be hormonal lust (after all, the physiological systems related to such effects in mortals are still present, and sometimes still functional, in vampires). It may be an obsession dating from the days before the vampire became what he now is, as is the case with Strahd von Zarovich's obsession with women who resemble his lost Tatyana.»

Astarion: Ugh. Strahd wouldn't put up with this shit.

«In these cases, the vampire creates its bride in cold blood, for the sole purpose of satisfying its own desires. Sometimes, however, the emotion may be close to what mortals classify as love.

The happiness of the vampire becomes tied up with the prospective bride, and its well-being depends on hers.»

Astarion: You are my consort, and I will see you living the very best life. Even if you don't appreciate it. Astarion: I don't intend to die, if you don't. I truly believe we can best the brain, united like this.

«In these cases, the vampire might actually believe it is bestowing a gift when it turns the mortal into its bride— the gift of freedom from aging and death.»

Player: Well, I suppose it cannot be undone now. Astarion: You are stronger now. Better. You will thank me one day, I am sure.

Player: I hoped you'd learn to love me. Astarion: Who's to say I don't? I'm willing to share all of this with you. What's that if not love?

Player: I wanted a good time, that's all. Astarion: What do you mean? Think of the things I can offer you! You're not going to say no to that, surely?

Player: Then stop joking around and let's sleep together. Astarion: You've earned it. But don't you want more - don't you want eternity? One more bite is all it would take?

«To actually create the bride, the vampire bestows what is known as the "Dark Kiss". It samples the blood of its mortal paramour-once, twice, thrice draining her almost to the point of death.»

«This process causes the subject no pain; in fact, it has been described as the most euphoric, ecstatic experience, in comparison to which all other pleasures fade into insignificance.»

Astarion: Tonight, I shall drink every drop of your blood. Own your body, kill your mind. It will only hurt a bit, the pleasure will be far greater than the pain.

Astarion: I remember how it hurt when I turned to a vampire. My body writhed and warped while I was utterly helpless, the grip of death owned my heart as it beat its last.

«Just as the subject is about to slip into the terminal coma from which there is no awakening, the vampire opens a gash in its own flesh-often in its throat, wrist, or chest (being near the heart)-and holds the subject's mouth to the wound.»

Player: What exactly happened? Astarion: You were drained dry, and at the height of your delirium, I granted you one drop of my own blood.

Player: Does this mean I won't be able to walk in the sun if my tadpole is removed? Astarion: Don't you worry. You have supped of my blood. It will be no trouble to extend a fragment of my protection to you. Player: Will you still drink my blood? Astarion: Of course I will, and you'll drink mine. I can't wait to taste your lips after you've tasted me.

Player: How does someone become a vampire, exactly? Astarion: It's simple. Just find a vampire that will drink your blood and turn you into a vampire spawn: their obedient puppet. In theory, the next step is to drink their blood. Once you've done that, you're free and a true vampire. Player: 'In theory'? Astarion: People think the biggest threat to a vampire is a cleric with a stake. It's not. The biggest threat to a vampire is another vampire. They're scheming, paranoid, power-hungry beasts. So why would any vampire give up control over a spawn to create a competitor? Player: So they bite you, you bite them? Astarion: Yes and no. The problem is once you're a vampire spawn, they completely control you. They have to allow you to bite them. And why would they do that? Vampires are power-hungry creatures. They won't lose a servant to create a competitor. Trust me. It doesn't happen.

«It is at this point that the creator-vampire's strength is most sorely tested. He is weakened by his own blood loss, and also by his own rapture as the "victim" of a dark kiss. Overcoming the sudden loss of strength and the inclinations of lust, the vampire must pull her away from its own wound, hopefully without harming her, before she has overfed. Should the subject be allowed to feed for too long (more than 2 rounds), she is driven totally and incurably insane, and will die in agony within 24 hours.

The first moment that the bride realizes the ugly truth about her new nature can be highly traumatic, unless her creator takes steps to ease her acceptance.»

Player: I'm already a Slayer and a squid - this is minor in comparison. Astarion: Terrifying and brilliant. I knew you'd take it in your stride.

«Any vampire can have only one bride or groom at a time. A vampire is physically incapable of creating another bride or groom while it has a companion already bound to it in this relationship. If the vampire wishes to create another bride or groom, it must either destroy its current bride or groom or follow the ritual described later to dissolve the bond between them.»

Minthara: Would you ever consider sharing the gift of immortality with me, Astarion? Astarion: I think not. That is for me and my darling to share. Minthara: If they have prevented your eyes and fangs from wandering to other necks, it must be a special bond indeed.

«Although there are some folk tales that describe the bride of a vampire as its slave, in much the same way that offspring are slaves, a bride is free-willed from the moment of her creation. The creator vampire does have great influence over the bride, however, although this control is totally nonmagical.

Newly created brides are generally ignorant of their own capabilities. If in life they heard folk tales and myths about vampires, they might have some vague conception, but often these tales are totally wrong. The bride is effectively dependent—totally dependent—on her creator to learn how to survive as a vampire. This obviously gives the creator great power over the bride.

By lying to her or bending the truth, he can convince her that she must obey his every order or suffer horrible consequences.»

Player: Spawn? I want to be a true vampire. Astarion: And you will! All in good time. But we mustn't rush these things. You may need time to adjust.

Player: And you promise you'll make me a full vampire soon? Astarion: My darling, of course! I want nothing more. Node Context: overly sincere - he doesn't really mean it Player: Cazador could compel you - can you compel me? Astarion: Why would I need to? You're going to be wonderfully obedient.

Player: I think we should break up. Astarion: Hahaha! Don't be stupid, darling. You're mine, remember? The tadpole is gone, which means your future is mine to decide. NodeContext: Genuine laugh - the player can't get away from him. Not even if they want to. «She saw me not as a protector, but as a rival, as a slave master. And she dedicated herself to freeing herself from my yoke.»

Aurelia: The bond's hold. He owns us. We have no choice, we must obey. Get out of here, Astarion, before… NodeContext: Last phrase is the moment Cazador takes control of them. They are giving Astation a final warning to run away. NodeContext: vampires were compelled by cazador to attack the player Astarion: He has no power over me anymore. Godey: You think you're free? Then let's tighten your chain. Narrator: All that you've seen since the crash - all the wonders and horrors - suddenly seem inconsequential. Only one thing matters. Cazador - your master, your lord, your creator. His will tightens around you once again, and it is as if you never escaped him. Astarion: You have become your own master. Deny him.Narrator: And then it is inside you, clogging your nostrils and throat with a sickening sweetness. You cannot fight back. You cannot reject it.

Narrator: Cazador's presence rises in your mind, a towering red wave that seems capable of drowning the world. Narrator:  And then it is inside you, clogging your nostrils and throat with a sickening sweetness. You cannot fight back. You cannot reject it. Narrator: And it shatters your will entirely, smashing your defences and leaving you broken and gasping for air. You cannot deny him.

«With time, and through experimentation, the bride might find out the true level of control her creator has over her—that is, none. She is still in a very inferior position, of course, because she is a Fledgling and her creator is at least an Ancient.»

Player: I'm sorry I kind of disappeared. I didn't mean to leave you like that. Astarion: Oh my dear, you didn't leave me - I let you go. If I'd wanted you to stay I only had to say the word and you would have been back by my side. But I'm not some controlling monster. I wanted to give you space to see what else is out there, make your own mistakes, and return to me ready to fully appreciate our life together. Anyway, I have had more than enough to keep me busy while you were off gallivanting in another plane.

«Some creator vampires—particularly those who created the bride out of love—will be totally honest with their creation, depending on loyalty, friendship, and even reciprocated love to stop the bride from trying to bring about their destruction. This is probably the most beneficial situation for both vampires, because two creatures cooperating are much more effective than two creatures involved in machinations against each other. A vampire and bride who truly love and trust each other make a team that is exceptionally difficult to defeat!»

Astarion: I may have power, but it would be nothing without you. You complete me.  And together, we are unstoppable. So Heavens help the fool that tries to get in our way. Player: None would dare, my love. Astarion: I almost wish they would. It's been some time since we've seen a real challenge.

Source: Van Richten's Guide to Vampires. TSR, 1991.

Chapters:

XI: Relationships Between Vampires: Progenitor and Offspring. XII: Relationships Between Vampires: Vampire Brides and Grooms. P.S.: A Reddit user shared an Easter egg referencing the Ravenloft lore and Brides in the game, which I hadn't seen before. I'll add it as an addition to the post:

[An excerpt from The True and Impossible Adventures of Tenebrux Morrow, a pulp serial following the 'real-life' exploits of an interplanar ship's captain. The real Captain Morrow is known never to have left her native Waterdeep and emerges from her rooms at the Yawning Portal only to exchange scrawled manuscripts for fresh meals and ink.] Much is made of Barovia's gloomy climate. It is said the mists there confuse the mind and torment the soul, binding travellers in a grip of such despair that escape is impossible to contemplate. As the New Bride parted that heavy fog, I confess that I felt no such malaise beyond the onset of a rather stuffy nose. The same, I fear, could not be said of my crew. Among those who had not already cast themselves overboard, the gibbering and weeping became such that I was forced to bind them to the mast entire, and navigate my fair Bride alone. I went in search of that plane's dark master, having been informed that even my ship could not hope to breach the planar boundaries without permission. And so I probed the mists, defiant at the helm and belting out a lively shanty of my own composition The invitation did not long go unanswered. He appeared like the passing of a shadow overhead, sudden and terrifying. Or certainly, that was his intention - but once the mutual assurances of destruction were dispensed with, we found in one another kindred spirits, and fell to conversing in earnest. At length, a price for my passage was agreed. Of that price, and that man, I will say only this: he is surprisingly excellent company, given the stories - and the teeth do not get in the way nearly so much as one would think.

[preciouslittlewatcher]

I got an ask that was basically a massive wall of text explaining to me that the lich route is Emmrichs bad ending and giving me a huge list of reasons why it's bad and I'm a bad person for considering it. I've played the mortal route and it was beautiful. Now I want to see what the other choice has to offer. That's the long and short of it.

I think we all need to collectively remember that despite him being very lovely and a wonderful romance, Emmrich Volkarin is not a real person. He is in a video game. A game where you get to make choices. Those choices have consequences yes but they never leave the video game. You will not be publically shunned because you let Emmrich become a lich.

They also decided to compare it to Ascended Astarion in BG3 (so tired of that discourse as well) and I didn't even want to acknowledge that dumpster fire of a topic lol but the same principle applies. Have fun, the devs gave you choices so you can make them and see what happens. If you feel personally offended by the choices someone else made in a video game they paid for, I suggest putting it down for a while. Read a book or something.

[galedekarios]

gale's early access dialogue transcripts - part 3: dialogues regarding various decisions & quest progression

in early access, companions used to react much more to the decisions you made in dialogue as well as the overall quest progression pertaining to the main quest as well as side quests, and the events happening around them.

these conversations would be shorter in nature and were usually marked with an exclamation mark ( ! ) over their head.

some of these conversations survived the transition from early access to the full release, but they are very few and far between. the only ones that did survive are 1) gale's reaction to nettie poisoning the protag, 2) gale's reaction to saving mirkon, and 3) gale's reaction to saving arabella.

gale was much, much more responsive in early access and had conversations with the protag about a variety of topics.

following are all cut conversations / dialogues with gale (excluding the deer stew scene and loss scene, which i have covered here and here, but have decided to exclude because they are much longer conversations):

overview:

jergal's temple

reaching the druid's grove / emerald enclave

arabella the tiefling child dies / protag stood by and did nothing

protag killed lae'zel after lae'zel tried to prevent them from turning into a mind flayer

karlach vs anders, the paladin of tyr / agent of zariel

after edowin / the siblings brynna and andrick

killing the druids

arriving at the goblin camp

finding out that the absolute's brand is magic

about true souls

dror ragzlin & the dead mindflayer

ogre + bugbear couple in moonhaven

giving the necromancy of thay tome to gale (dialogue option in player-initiated dialogue / gale asks for tome)

on ethel

on ethel's deal

after finishing mayrina's quest

the zhentarim chest / rugan

the myconid colony in the underdark

defending astarion to gandrel the gur monster hunter

handing astarion over to gandrel the gur monster hunter

arka the tiefling (kanon's sister) kills sazza the goblin / protag stood by and watched it happen

letting sazza escape

finding out about priestess gut from sazza

below the read more, you'll find the transcripts of these 23 cut conversations.

where i can and still have them, i will include screenshots and, when i can find them online, i will include links to watch those conversation in video format.

jergal's temple [link to gifset]

Gale: Bad form, isn't it? Grave robbing? Judging by those undead guardians, the architects of this crypt certainly thought so. - Protag Option 1: I'm desperate, not proud. Best to take what I can get.  Gale: Then again, to be alive is to be curious.  - Protag Option 2: Dressing up the dead is pointless. They have no need for trinkets.  Gale: Never lost a loved one, have you? Then again, those who loved these loved ones are dust and bones themselves. - Protag Option 3: A good fight and fine treasure. What's not to like? Gale: I suppose that's one way to spin it. - Protag Option 4: Why care about decorum in a long-abandoned tomb? Gale: Because my mother raised a gentleman. Then again, to be alive is to be curious.  - Protag Option 5 [Cleric]: True. My god might not be particularly happy about it. Gale: You can pray for your sins later. I’m told that does the trick. Gale: Let's have a look at the loot. It isn't for your pockets only.

2. reaching the druid's grove / emerald enclave

Gale: So much for finding a safe haven. - Protag Option 1: This is a druid grove. With a bit of luck we'll find help here.  Gale: Druids master the ancient magic that is part of nature's fabric itself. They can make bloom, and they can make wither. Let's hope the latter applies to tadpoles.  - Protag Option 2: We won't linger long.  Gale: And we shouldn't – but we'd be remiss not to give the place a once-over. Druids master the ancient magic that is part of nature's fabric itself. They can make bloom, and they can make wither. Let's hope the latter applies to tadpoles. 

3. arabella the tiefling child dies / protag stood by and did nothing [link to gifset]

Gale: This place is a snake pit in more ways than one. That poor girl... Such sudden madness.... And what did we do? We stood by and watched. Her parents – we'll have to tell them that we failed.  - Protag Option 1: Our priority remains to find a healer. The most dangerous snake is in our heads, remember? Gale: Distinctly. But it hasn't poisoned my sense of right and wrong just yet. How about yours? - Protag Option 2: We're here on Zevlor's behalf. Let's not lose sight of that.  Gale: Yes, nothing like serving up a dead child as the appetiser to successful negotiations. - Protag Option 3: Her parents deserve to know what happened. And that we are not to blame.  Gale: So inaction equals innocence? There's a small corpse on the floor over there that might just beg to differ. - Protag Option 4: This is none of our concern. Where there's strife, there will be blood. Gale: And where there's blood, there will be vengeance. This troubled grove is about to become far more troubled still. - [Arabella died because protag failed the DC twice] Protag Option 5: The girl really should have left the druid's idol alone. Look where it got her.  Gale: If the errors of youth deserve an early grave, none of us would live to see a dozen summers. There is no justification for this tragedy.

4. protag killed lae'zel after lae'zel tried to prevent them from turning into a mind flayer

Gale: Lae'zel... that was brutal. Are you all right? I'm here if you want to talk about it. - Protag Option 1: Is there anything left to say? Gale: She was alive. Now she is dead. Might be worth a few words. Then again, maybe not. What a night... - Protag Option 2: She was danger to us all. She didn't leave me with a choice.  Gale: I was not judging, merely offering my sympathy.  One moment we are travelling together, then the next... - Protag Option 3: Don't bother. It's over and done with.  Gale: Words as final as your acts. One moment we are travelling together, then the next...

5. karlach vs anders, the paladin of tyr / agent of zariel

Gale: I have to say I don't know if agreeing to this hunt was such a wise idea. Who's to say who's the real villain in this tale of devils and masquerades? - Protag Option 1: Cheer up! It'll be fun.  Gale: Yes, I used to sign up for a round of Kill-The-Stranger every tenday back home [sarcastic]. When we track Karlach down, let's chat before we chop. - Protag Option 2: You're saying I shouldn't trust a bunch of devil-sworn pretending to be paladins of Tyr? Gale: I'm saying I really shouldn't have to point that out. When we track Karlach down, let's chat before we chop. - Protag Option 3: It's easy: I say who the villain is. Gale: My, so it's you who is Tyr then, the mighty judge of justice?  Go ahead, tell them. I'm sure they'd love to fawn all over their erstwhile patron.

6. after edowin / the siblings brynna and andrick

Gale: I have to say, it's one thing to have a parasite in your head, quite another not to know it's there. What's more, these people weren't on the nautiloid with us. Just how many mind flayers are at work in these parts? - Protag Option 1: The real question is: how does this all link to their belief in this “Absolute”? Gale: Mind flayers excel -> See Option 3 - Protag Option 2: Do you really think there may be more mind flayers around? Gale: This True Soul and his acolytes are ample proof of that...  They 're ample proof of a dread suspicion as well.  - Protag Option 3: Let's move. I don't mean to lose daylight pondering idle questions.  Gale: You really do dismiss these events too casually. - Gale: Mind flayers excel at mind games. To enthral completely is their bread and butter. What if they perfected their craft by convincing their subjects they're not thralls at all, but that they have free will? That the commandments they experience are the will of a benevolent god. How terrifying a level of perfection that would be.

7. killing the druids

Gale: If Silvanus is the mighty oak, his druids were but the weakest of his leaves, tossed by the winds of fury. I can't shake the image of what happened to the grove: the winds have blown and the harvest has come. The oak stands lone and barren.  - Protag [Druid] Option 1: A grove destroyed... I dont think I can forgive myself. Gale: After winter, spring will come, but I'm not sure we left behind much fertile ground. - Protag [Druid] Option 2: The druids caused the harvest. It was only just we did the reaping. Gale: Yes, well, I prefer to pluck apples and pick strawberries. They don't tend to weigh on one's conscience. - Protag Option 3: They were in need of a lesson – and we taught it well. Gale: One usually needs to be alive to reap the benefits of education. If anything, we taught them too well.  - Protag Option 4: They felt threatened and lashed out. A tragedy I wish we could have avoided.  Gale: Their action are on them, that much is true, but the consequences are ours to carry - Protag Option 5: Come, let's move on. What's done is done. Gale: Look around you. What's done is done, but what's wrong is also wrong.

8. arriving at the goblin camp [link to gifset]

Gale: Amid all this grandeur sunk into squalor, I wonder what dismal corner we'll find Halsin in.  - Protag Option 1: Any suggestions? Gale: Prisoners are treated the same by everyone: they serve as serfs, or they waste away in a dungeon. Stands to reason we'll find Halsin in either one of these less-than-appealing conditions.  - Protag Option 2: What grandeur is that? Gale: This must have been a splendid complex once, a temple of impressive proportions. Worshippers lived here. Pilgrims visited. They required food, shelter, ceremony, entertainment. Now that it's nothing but a goblin-ridden death-trap? Plenty of places to hide away a druid, I imagine. - Protag Option 3: With our luck? Marinating in a cooking pot most likely. Gale: A hearty serving of druid stew wouldn't do us any good. No, let's hope the best and keep this in mind: Prisoners are treated the same by everyone: they serve as serfs, or they waste away in a dungeon. If he's still alive, it stands to reason we'll find Halsin in either one of these less-than-appealing conditions. Well -more-than-appealing conditions come to think of it, when one considers the stew alternative.

9. finding out that the absolute's brand is magic

Gut: Hold out your arm so I can mark your flesh. It's charged with magic. Ordinary slobs can't see it; only us that follow the Absolute.  Gale: Charged with magic? Perhaps that explains the ease with which these goblins submit to True Souls.

10. about true souls

Gale: I can hardly wrap my head around what we've just heard. Let's list up the facts, shall we? There are other people here with tadpoles in their heads. They can hear the tadpoles speak to them, and they think it's a new god. I don't know about you, but to me, none of this makes any logical sense.  - Protag Option 1: I concur. There doesn't seem to be a logical explanation. Gale: And yet I suspect something... intelligent behind it all. Some carefully nurtured scheme. - Protag Option 2: I'm seeing too many coincidences – which tend to add up to conspiracies.  Gale: Evil cults and grand designs, is it? Mind you, I'll not even dispute the possibility. - Protag Option 3: I don't care about logic, I care about solutions. Gale: I'm not sure those are mutually exclusive. If we seek to solve we must seek to comprehend.  - Gale: But let's not lose sight of what we've learned here – what joins us and what separates us from these True Souls: They heard a voice we do not hear, a voice that binds them in servitude. As long as we're possessed of our own free will, I venture to say there's hope for us yet.

11. dror ragzlin & the dead mindflayer

Gale: A grand necromantic spectacle staged at the behest of a newfangled god to track down... us. Can't quite say which of these two wins out: to be honoured or to be horrified. - Protag Option 1: The real question is: why are they looking for us? Gale: Several guesses spring to mind, all equally plausible and implausible at once. - Protag Option 2: Not to worry: we easily tricked that hobgoblin – and his god. Gale: We tricked the minion, yes, but its master? I doubt it. - Protag Option 3: Can't say I'm thrilled to be a god's pet project. Gale: Horrified it is then. - Gale: Fact is we're being hunted, but at least we have the hunters at a disadvantage: even here, in the lion's den, they don't recognise us as their prey.

12. ogre + bugbear couple in moonhaven

Gale: One moment they were embracing each other in intimacy, the next they're embracing only death. Can't say I'm proud of our actions here.  - Protag Option 1: Me either. We should have left well enough alone Gale: Don't get me wrong, I know they'd have gladly made us their post-coital picnic given half a chance. It just feels wrong to turn lovemaking into life-taking.  - Protag Option 2: Playing it a bit fast and loose with the word 'intimacy' there, Gale. Gale: I'm not contemplating definitions, I'm contemplating our deeds. Don't get me wrong, I know they'd have gladly made us their post-coital picnic given half a chance. It just feels wrong to turn lovemaking into life-taking.  - Protag Option 3: Don't dwell on it. Ogres and bugbears are nothing but vermin. Gale: And yet they speak and bond and revel. Don't get me wrong, I know they'd have gladly made us their post-coital picnic given half a chance. It just feels wrong to turn lovemaking into life-taking.

13. giving the necromancy of thay tome to gale (dialogue option in player-initiated dialogue / gale asks for tome)

Gale: Much obliged. Narrator: you watch Gale perusing the book with a true wizard's fascination. A few pages in, something startles him.  Gale: A rough read indeed... I'll give it my undivided attention at a more appropriate time.

14. on ethel

Gale: You know, I think there's a little something more to Ethel than meets the eye. 'Hag' is the word they used.  If that's what she really is, she's beyond dangerous.  - Protag Option 1: If that's what she is, that means we killed two innocent men. Gale: But theit sister still lives. And I doubt Auntie has her over for tea and conversation. - Protag Option 2: Hags are powerful creatures. She might actually be able to help us with the parasite.  Gale: See Option 3 - Protag Option 3: She hinted at a reward. That's all I really care about. Gale: Beware of a hag bearing gifts. They're never gifts to begin with.

15. on ethel's deal

Gale: Netherese. A portentous word. Combine it with mind flayers, and it's... unspeakable. - Protag Option 1: What do you make of it all? Gale: What we can do is combine what we know and make our deductions. At the heart of it all, the problem is clear: we've been infected by a mind flayer parasite. So far, however, we've been spared the dread fate that is ceremorphosis. How have we been spared? It would seem the answer is that the parasite is somehow infused with Netherese magic – more powerful, more sinister than it has any right to be. The question remains, however: why? Infected, but unchanging. Blind cogs in an all-seeing machine. - Protag Option 2: If even a hag can't help us, who can? Gale: I... I actually don't know. All we can do is combine what we know and make our deductions- See Option 1 - Protag Option 3: It's all gibberish as far as I'm concerned. Gale: No, there's meaning to it. There has to be.  All we can do is combine- See Option 1 - Protag Option 4: None of this actually solves our problems. Gale: I know, but let's consider this: at the heart of it all, not only is our problem clear, but so is the motive of our enemy: power. All power has a nexus. Find it, and we may just find both the answers and the remedy we seek. - Protag Option 5: Get to the point if you have one. Gale: I was merely thinking out loud, but if you desire a point, consider this: See Option 4 - Protag Option 6: Enough talk. Let's go. Gale: Fine, but while we walk, consider this: See Option 4

16. after finishing mayrina's quest [link to gifset]

Gale: Hags really do redefine depravity, don't they? A promise kept in the cruellest of ways: a loved one returned, undead.  - Protag Option 1: This entire affair sickens me. I wish we'd had no part in it. Gale: We don't always choose the roles we play. All we can do is perform them to the best of our ability.  [Connor killed] At least the curtain's fallen on this tragedy. The lovers' tale is quite over.  [Connor alive] Can't say I'm very enthusiastic though, about the extra you just cast. - Protag Option 1: Hags thrive on corruption. It is simply their nature Gale: A nature that, as far as I'm concerned, deserves to go extinct.  [Connor killed] As extinct as the happiness Ethel cut out of Mayrina. [Connor alive] So does that abhorrent thing-once-man. For god's sake let his eternal sleep be free of this undead nightmare. - Protag Option 3: You have to admit Auntie Ethel knows how to have some fun. Gale: [disapproves] You can't possibly mean that.  [Connor killed] In any case, the man's dead for good. The spectacle has come to a close. Fun's over.  [Connor alive] Although, judging by the newest company you've decided to keep, you may just be depraved enough yourself to mean that after all.

17. the zhentarim chest / rugan

Gale: So you threatened your way into ownership of that chest. Now that it's yours, what will you do with it? - Protag Option 1: I say we hold on to it until we find the rightful owner. Gale: So that means you're not curious as to what's inside? Very well, suit yourself... - Protag Option 2: Let's seell it. We're bound to make a tidy profit.  Gale: See Option 1 - Protag Option 3: I will do what is meant to be done with a sealed chest: open it. Gale: Music to my curious ears!

18. the myconid colony in the underdark [link to gifset]

Gale: Spores that can raise the dead... These myconids certainly are fascinating creatures.  Protag Option 1: They make for good allies.  Gale: Agreed. And there are precious few of those in the Underdark. - Protag Option 2: They're more dangerous than I thought. We should be on our guard.  Gale: They will remain welcome hosts unless we turn hostile. Should be easy enough to avoid. - Protag Option 3: Sorry, but I don't share your fascination for fungi.  Gale: Nobody's perfect. 

19. defending astarion to gandrel the gur monster hunter [link to youtube video]

[Protag defends Astarion] Gale: How thoroughly invigorating it is to stand by one's friend in the face of danger. Even if that friend is an egomaniacal vampire with moral longevity of a mayfly. - Protag Option 1: We did the right thing and that's all there is to it. Gale: It's charming that you think that. - Protag Option 2: Are you saying that you would have thrown Astarion to the wolves? Gale: Never. What harm did the wolves ever do? - Protag Option 3: I'll remember you skepticism if anyone ever comes looking for you. Gale: ?

20. handing astarion over to gandrel the gur monster hunter

[Protag hands Astarion over to Gandrel the Gur Monster Hunter] Gale: I had a friend who had a dog once. Beautiful animal, but it got mean in its old days. Gale: It would growl and bark at everyone. Even bit him at the end. Gale: Yet still it was the saddest of occasions when he took the dog away for good. - Protag Option 1: It was for the best, I'm sure. Gale: I'm not sure the dog would agree. Gale: Astarion wouldn't. I'm absolutely sure of that. - Protag Option 2: Parting is never easy. Gale: ? - Protag Option 3: Put the mongrel down, did he? Gale: ?

21. arka the tiefling (kanon's sister) kills sazza the goblin / protag stood by and watched it happen [link to gifset]

Gale: Arka's thirst for revenge has been sated... and the goblin welcomed death with open arms. All's well with the world one might argue. And yet there's something unsettling about witnessing an execution. - Protag Option 1: I take no pleasure in it, but justice has been done. Gale: No one will mourn this goblin I suppose. Let's leave it at that. - Protag Option 2: Somehow that sounds a condemnation. Gale: I condemn nothing - but a question can be a mirror: Gale: If it's guilt you see reflected, the condemnation is your own. - Protag Option 3: I have no patience for the squeamish. Gale: You imply a weakness. I say a critical mind is one of our greatest strengths.

22. letting sazza the goblin escape

Gale: I know I said it's not inconceivable a goblin priestess could help us. And yet... was it really wise to set another goblin free so she can arrange introductions? - Protag Option 1: Passing up the promise of a healer would be far more unwise. Gale: A perfectly reasonable train of thoughts. But what if she leads her entire tribe to the grove? - Protag Option 2: What's done is done. Doubt doesn't help us.  Gale: I'm not quite done yet. What if she leads her entire tribe to the grove? - Protag Option 3: Keep your misgivings to yourself. Gale: But consider the consequences. What if she leads her entire tribe to the grove? -> Protag Option 1: I'll make sure that doesn't happen Gale: I'm not sure you can. - Protag Option 2: Getting rid of the tadpole comes first. Otherwise we might be the monsters that destroy this place. Gale: Harsh. But fair. If not given too much further thought. - Protag Option 3: I don't care, I owe this grove no allegiance. Gale: No allegiance, no. Though we don't need to sign its death warrant.

23. finding out about priestess gut from sazza

Gale: Booyahg – the goblin word for magic. Primitive to a fault, but not entirely without merit. To seek some goblin priestess' help would be unconventional to say the least. Then again, I'm not one to advocate conventionality.  - Protag Option 2: A goblin healer sounds absurd to me. Gale: I wouldn't dismiss the idea out of hand. Goblins come from a warrior culture: to heal wounds is a highly prized skill. - Protag Option 1: I don't care if a cure comes from a goblin, an ogre, or an orc: as long as it works, I'm happy.  Gale: My sentiments exactly.  - Gale: If this priestess is indeed a master in the arts of booyahg, it's not inconceivable she could be of help to us. And if she isn't, we might find items of interest among her shamanic paraphernalia. If her tribe doesn't kill us on sight, that is.

thank you for reading! please consider liking and reblogging this post to support my work. thank you.

coming up next:

-part 1: the three tadpole dreams -> completed -part 2: major cut scenes: the deer stew scene & the loss scene -> completed -part 3: minor cut scenes: abandoned temple of jergal, failed to save arabella, talking to the paladins of tyr and agreeing to go after karlach, edowin and the tadpole reveal, mayrina giving ethel's wand to her or breaking it, handing astarion over to the gur or defending him, reaching the druid grove, killing lae'zel, reaching the goblin camp & looking for halsin, killing the druids, priestess gut & the brand & the cult of the absolute, dror ragzlin and talking to the dead mind flayer, ogre couple, necromancy of thay, ethel, zhentarim chest, myconid colony -> completed with this post -part 4: gale's condition & the way it was treated in early access

taglist: @chainsawmascara, @randomfanner, @tacogoats, @khajiit-necromancer, @gwinharper, @galesenchantedpanties, @swampfaerie, @ardently-queer, @nirraein, @gale-enjoyer, @xiv-wolfram, @kairoswouldnever, @a-psychopathic-dream, @toboldlydammitjim, @mishtress, @vcxahlia, @fitzmagus,

i thought i'd tag the people i'd seen taking an interest in my original post! if you want to be taken off the taglist, or added, please let me know!

[obsessedwhyyes]

The Art of Not Admitting a Thing (1/2)

Summary: You can't help but notice that Gale and Astarion have been acting... differently towards one another lately. Perhaps it's time to investigate!

Alternatively: one simple question leads to some big thoughts!

Rating: T Word Count: 1177 Pairing: Astarion x Gale Content: First Person Gale POV, interview format, mutual pining, yearning, denial of feelings, character study, Gale is bad at feelings, fluff, a teensy bit of angst but not much!

A/N: So here we have my first ever Bloodweave! I am both exceedingly nervous, and very excited about it. I've had ideas in mind for Bloodweave for months, but actually writing these ideas and sending them off into the big, wide world has been a rather intimidating affair. But we're finally doing it! And what better way for me to dip my toe into Bloodweave waters than by being incredibly predictable and writing yet another first person fic?

Chapter 1: "What do you think of Astarion?"

What do I think of Astarion? Well, that's a rather loaded question, is it not? Not that I don't have an answer, of course. No, quite the opposite, actually. I have too many answers, all vying for precedence. Because, you see, Astarion is not the sort of person one can sum up in a single sentiment. He is… how shall I put this? He is an equation with variables that simply refuse to behave. Utterly unsolvable.

Come now, don't look at me like that.

It’s just that Astarion is - well, to put it plainly - a lot. A relentless force of nature wrapped in silk and a layer of his own smugness. He walks into a room and suddenly you're aware of him. No, not just aware - attuned. It's all deliberate, of course. All part of the performance.

Yet, somehow, despite knowing it's all a performance, I still find myself watching.

And it's not just his presence. He's also clever, which is, dare I say, the most irritating thing about him. Not just sharp-witted, but… strategic. He understands people, knows exactly where to sink his teeth. Not just the literal ones - though those certainly warrant consideration - but also the more subtle. A smile, a look, a well-placed word. He plays people like instruments, plucking their strings just so, and I… Well, I have spent a great deal of time telling myself that I, of all people, should be immune to such things.

Alas, I am not immune. 

Which, of course, presents something of a metaphysical conundrum. Feelings, after all, are best understood when dissected. Laid bare and examined like lines in an ancient tome. One does not simply experience something without questioning its nature, its source, its… implications. No, the wise approach - the rational approach - is to study it with the same rigour that one would apply to any magical phenomenon. To categorise it, to determine whether it is genuine or merely some arcane anomaly. A peculiar resonance of the heart, if you will.

And so, in pursuit of intellectual honesty, I find myself studying Astarion with perhaps more dedication than strictly necessary. Any lingering thoughts are purely academic, I assure you. Elminster once told me that understanding the world means understanding its people, and what is Astarion if not a mystery to be unravelled? The way he moves, the way he speaks, the way he wields his beauty like a blade.

… Yes, he is beautiful, but that is besides the point. The point is–

…

I've lost the point.

That's what he does to me, you know. He derails my thoughts. I'm speaking perfectly rationally one moment, and the next, I'm somewhere else entirely, wondering if that grace comes naturally to him. If, behind closed doors, he rehearses those cutting remarks, those honeyed words.

Of course, I’m hardly special in that regard. I’ve seen him turn those honeyed words on just about everyone. He gives people what they want with such artful sincerity that they can’t help but believe him. He doesn’t mean it - not truly. And I would be a fool to imagine I’m any different. The world is his stage, and he is quite the performer.

And yet…

There are things about him. Real things. Beneath those rakish charms. I see them sometimes, in the quiet moments, when he doesn't realise anyone's watching. A weariness. A wariness. He's always aware, it seems. Of every room he walks into, of every person in it, of where the exits are. I recognise that sort of awareness. It's the kind you learn when you have been made someone's pawn for too long. When you've spent years convincing yourself that you're the one holding the strings, only to realise the strings are wrapped around your throat.

It unsettles me.

Dare I say, it even hurts me.

Not that I would ever say so. I doubt he would ever want to hear it. I doubt he would believe it.

And, anyway, it's not as if–

Not as if what?

No, truly, what was I about to say? That it's not as if I care? That would be a lie. That it's not as if I think about him more than I should? That would be another.

Perhaps I should stop talking.

…

You know, there was a time where I thought myself above this sort of thing. I thought I understood love completely. How could I not? I had experienced love in its most divine form - quite literally, in fact. My devotion to Mystra is… was… something transcendent. Something cosmic. I thought that was all love could be. All it should be. That anything less would be settling for a pale imitation of true devotion.

But lately, I find myself wondering if perhaps I’ve been rather short-sighted about the whole thing. Mystra herself appears in many forms; adapts to what her followers need. Perhaps love is similar - not always a grand, cosmic force that reshapes reality, but something more… subtle? The way a person looks at you when they think you aren't watching. The way their voice changes when you say their name. The way they make you feel like you are something more than what you were before. 

But if I did feel something - hypothetically, of course - it would hardly matter. Because what could I possibly offer him? A man who’s spent centuries under the control of another, only to find himself finally tasting freedom… What could he possibly want with someone like me? A wizard with borrowed time, carrying within him a responsibility so great that I am expected - destined - to lay down my life for it?

I’ve seen the fire in his eyes when faced with that which threatens to cage him. That fierce, burning defiance - the look of a man who has faced centuries of servitude and vowed never to be chained again. And what would I be, if not another form of binding? Another tragedy waiting to unfold? No. No, I wouldn’t blame him if he wanted nothing to do with such complications.

And yet… sometimes, I wonder.

If things were different - if I were different… If my fate weren’t already destined to end in sacrifice, would he look at me differently?

If he did - and that’s a big “if” - would I be so willing to accept that fate? To willingly embrace my end, if it meant never knowing what this - what we - might have become?

I was so sure the answer was simple. But then he looks at me, and for just a moment, I feel something I thought was long beyond my grasp. A foolish, reckless thing. It makes me hesitate.

And hesitation, well… that’s dangerous, isn’t it?

But stranger things have happened.

… Perhaps I have rather a lot to think about.

But I believe I’ve taken up quite enough of your time with these philosophical meanderings. No doubt you have better things to do than listen to a wizard ramble about matters of the heart. Besides, I have some rather important reading waiting for me. Something about… well, anything other than this conversation, really.

Masterlist can be found here!

No Pressure Tags: @roguishcat, @davenswitcher, @silverfangmarks, @sparrowbard, @chonkercatto, @stokzr , @trafalgarussy , @asterordinary , @bite-me-tonight , @transparentkittenheart , @vividiana (thank you for being so supportive with this one <3), @bg3-fanfic-reblogs

[tragedybunny]

Helloooooooooo! I saw that you were taking Astarion requests, and I’ve had something living rent free in my head for awhile nowwwww.

Basically, how would Astarion do with an s/o who is able to handle him well because of their own traumatic past? Maybe s/o came from a controlling/abusive household, so they already had to teach themself what a stable relationship looks like, and can now apply that here.

Essentially, I keep thinking about Astarion talking about how “patient” tab is with him when romantically involved, and I just keep thinking of s/o responding by saying “someone had to be patient with me too, Astarion. I learned the importance of it from that”

This has been awhile, I hope I put something together that works. Apologies for the wait. 💖

Until the World Falls Down - Astarion x F!Reader -

Love isn't always easy, but Astarion is worth having patience for.

You weren’t sure exactly where the argument came from or how it reached a boiling point at such speed. Astarion had been complaining that your house, the little house in the lower city that you loved so much because it belonged to the two of you, didn’t feel terribly secure. True, it was left empty while you traveled, looking for a way he could walk in the sunlight again, but Dammon was stone’s throw away, along with a number of the other tieflings from the Grove. When you’d been asked by the city’s rulers what you wanted in return for your heroics, a place you and him could call home was all you could think of. 

“I’m just saying we could look for something else,” he snips, pushing things further.  

There’s a rising pounding in your head, he’s giving into the paranoia. This was the inheritance passed down from Cazador, an endless fountain of ill that also included outbursts of anger, fits of melancholy, and more guilt than you could have ever imagined he was capable of. “Love,” you try your best to diffuse it, something you’ve grown well practiced with, “this is our home, I don’t want to change it.” 

He snorts, “I don’t know why I expected you to understand, you had all the safety and security in the world and ran from it.”

The words sting in a way you’re not prepared for, it’s not the first time he’s lashed out at you, but he’s never weaponized your past before. “Astarion, that…that hurts.” 

“What? It’s the truth, a pampered little noble girl who fled her sheltered life, because it was what, boring? Do you know what I would’ve given to be in your place?” 

You stare at him wide-eyed, gasping at what feels like a ruptured wound in your chest. There’s only been bits and snatches of your past he’s been able to learn, the Warlock pact making it impossible to reveal all. But it’s shattering to have that little bit he knows turned on you. Fingernails curling into the palms of your hand, you try to steady your breathing, reminding yourself he really doesn’t know everything, he can’t tell how deeply those words cut. But you’re no saint, sometimes the pain is too much. “Gods, you really don’t care if you hurt me, do you?” All you’ve ever asked of him is love, and you die a little inside when he can’t seem to give it, even if you know why. “I need some air,” turning you stalk away from him and your little kitchen you adore, where tea sits now growing cold, towards your front door, tears blossoming that you fight, and memories you've locked away pushing to the front of your mind. 

Maybe it’s your words, maybe it’s the hard reality of your hand pulling the door open, but behind you, Astarion quietly exclaims,“no.” He sounds far away though, sounds and shapes from another time clouding your senses. 

Beyond your threshold, Baldur's Gate bustles in the early dawn light, but you only see bleak halls, filled with looming dread, and hear the whispers of the House of Air and Darkness. Push past it, you tell yourself, one foot crossing into the warm light. You're running, maybe that's what you're good at, maybe he's right, you run when you shouldn’t. Another breath, you're standing just outside the door. The noise of the city starts to pull you out of the past. 

A hand grabs at your’s. “Don’t leave m-” his words end in a hiss of pain.

Shaking your head, you finish pushing back at the past to find Astarion’s hand clutching yours, starting to smolder in the sun. “Astarion, stop.” 

“No, what if you don’t come back?” He’s frantic, tugging you back toward the shelter of the darkness inside the door. The scent of his flesh starting to singe fills your nostrils. The churning maelstrom of emotions hasn’t calmed enough, leaving you rooted where you stand. “Damn it,” grimacing, he takes a step forward, towards you, towards the light. 

As though you’d been under a slow spell that finally releases you, there’s understanding, and you lunge toward him, pushing him back into the safety of your home, door slamming in your wake. Arms wrap around him as he clings to you, he’s quivering. Sinking to the floor, the sounds of rough sobbing start to escape from him. “I’m sorry Love,” you whisper, trying your best to soothe him, while your own mind recovers.  

Words tumble out between fits of crying. “Not your…sorry…don’t know why…didn’t mean that…don’t leave me.” 

“Hush, Sweetheart, I promise I’m not going anywhere.” It aches inside, you didn’t mean to frighten him. 

With gentle words and touches, you try to calm him until he finally stills in your arms. “Why?” 

“What?”

“Why aren’t you leaving? Why do you stay? I’m a monster, no better than Cazador, turning your words back on you to torture you.” There’s no tears, but you realize it’s only because he’s too tired to keep crying. 

“You are not a monster Astarion, your emotions get the better of you sometimes.” Leaning down, you kiss the crown of his head, his forehead, his cheek, anywhere you can get. “I know you’re trying.” 

“How can you be so patient with me?” His hand searches out yours. 

Once, you lived in a world where only power mattered, where your parents would’ve given you to a monster to secure their place. But you were shown a better way. “Someone was patient with me too once. She showed me how to love, I think she saved my life.” You stop there, knowing the price for saying more. 

Astarion doesn’t ask either, understanding you can’t. “I can do better,” he promises earnestly.

“I know you will, but you’re still healing. And I’m sorry I let it get to me.” 

“No,” quickly, he sits, eyes locked onto yours, “you have feelings too, and it’s not fair for me to hurt you just because I hurt. I will do better, you deserve better from me, after everything you’ve done.”

You look at him, a teary wreck, and realizing you’re probably not much better yourself, lose yourself to an unexpected giggle. "Gods, we're a mess. I love you." 

"Speak for yourself, I'm perfection." he laughs, laying his head back on your shoulder. "I love you too, more than anything."