#first the blood of lathander

[soul-of-rei]

astarion always being given the shadowheart coded items first and foremost in neils playthrough being a Trend i see

[gale--dekarios]

omg i killed the entirety of crèche y’llek without dying at all..awesome

[ghost-proofbaby]

astarion and eddie kneel before you. unfortunately, it's not for sexy reasons, it's because you have to kill one of them.

so who's getting the dagger to the heart?

(I'm not sorry 😌)

BLUEY. THE BETRAYAL I FEEL SEEING THIS AFTER GETTING OFF FROM WORK.

this is absolutely devastating. but also.... okay, just, just hear me out? okay? i love them both. i adore them both. i would happily lay my life down on the line for both astarion and eddie. i would sooner flip that dagger towards myself than ever consider sending it through one of their hearts. they are my beloveds. each one brings something so beautiful to the table, have taught me to love in such unique and charming ways-

im stabbing astarion because he stabbed me once when i gave him the one fucking flail and he lost his saving throw against it and decided to try and merk me with that extra fancy dagger i gave him in his second hand.

[fangsandfeels]

Cazador: I have Mist Form, you cannot possibly hurt me!

Jerra *brandishing the Blood of Lathander*: I count six seconds, fuckface

Source

[anoras]

tegan keeps her faith to herself, as a general rule. it's not that she hides that she worships lathander (she'll tell anyone if asked, it's no secret, there's no reason for it to be), but she prefers to keep it private. her relationship with her god is special to her, something she takes comfort in her faith in him, and in the small moments of acknowledgement she's received. :)

[lucifer-the-fetus-eater]

can i just get some soup for my family

roles below the cut

we couldnt summon fork and scratch at the same time so i edited it in

[shiniestcrow]

Powered through most of the Underdark today which means Act 2 is just around the corner!

More importantly: KARLACH HUG SOON!!!

[daedracore]

[paarthursass]

Baldur's Gate 3 Companion!Tav Ask List

What if your Tav was a recruitable companion, instead of the main character? (contains major spoilers for the game, and for some dark urge runs as well)

General

Where can your Tav be recruited?  Are they first encountered on the Nautiloid, or in the Nautiloid crash region?  Or are they not recruitable until a later act?

Do the other companions have special comments or reactions upon recruiting your Tav?

Does your Tav have any comments or advice when you recruit other companions?

What sort of general actions raise or lower their approval?

Are there any instances where your Tav can permanently leave the party, depending on player character actions?

Do they have any secrets that can be revealed?  What are the prerequisites for this secret coming to light?

Do they have their own personal quest that spans the course of the game?  Can it take different branching paths depending on the choices the Player Character makes?

What do they say when the Player Character asks them to stay in camp?  How about when the Player Character asks them to come adventuring again?

Does your Tav have any escalating conflicts with one of the other companions, like Lae’zel and Shadowheart’s knife-fight?

Are there any unique NPCs associated with your Tav that can show up during the course of the game?

Are there any moments in the game that trigger unique dialogue for your character? (Like Gale’s anecdote about the barfight after you save the goblin prisoner) 

Story Specific

How does your Tav advise the player character when it comes to the Dream Visitor?

How do they advise the player character on Raphael?

How do they react to Astarion biting the Player Character?

How do they react to the Player Character letting Abdirak whip them?

How do they react to the Player Character taking their first tadpole power?

Will they stay with the Player Character regardless of siding with the goblins or the tieflings, or is it possible for them to leave the party permanently?

What can they be found doing at the tiefling/goblin party?

Do they have comments on who the Player Character chooses to spend the night with? 

Do they have unique dialogue if the Player Character lets them die when they steal the Blood of Lathander?

How do they react if the PC licks the dead spider in the Gauntlet of Shar?

What do they say if the PC tries to force them to go up on stage with Dribbles the Clown?

Is it possible for your Tav to be kidnapped and replaced by Orin?  How is Orin's deception revealed?  How do they react to the PC rescuing them in the Temple of Bhaal?

How do they react to the PC either allowing Astarion to ascend or convincing him to spare the 7000 spawn?

How does Tav react to the PC becoming a mind flayer?  Can they offer to become one themselves?  Does their reaction change if they’re romanced? 

How do they react when the Dark Urge first reveals their amnesia and murderous thoughts to them?

How do they react to the Dark Urge killing Alfira?

If romanced, how do they react to the Dark Urge trying to kill them in Act 2?

Romance

Is your Tav a romanceable character?  Are there any specific requirements to romancing them?

Does your Tav need to be flirted with to start the romance, or will they approach the PC themselves if approval is high enough?

Are they a polyamorous or a monogamous option?

Do they have a special romance scene at the tiefling/goblin party?

Does the romance have different branching paths, or just one route to take?

How do they react to the player character breaking up with them, or choosing another character over them?

What questions can Zethino ask the PC about Tav in the Love Test? 

If they’re poly, do they have a reaction to the PC engaging in a relationship with Halsin?

How do they react if the PC has sex with Mizora? The Emperor?  Haarlep?

Will they join in with the PC and the Drow Twins, or no?

What are Tav’s plans for the future?  Do they propose to the PC, or is marriage not something they’re interested in?

Free space! Share anything from your companion!Tav au!

[michanvalentine]

Since I talked about my favorite sad Astarion lines, today I’m indulging in some of the funniest ones instead! There are obviously so many—he’s always a delight, at least by my standards. I adore him because, among other things, he’s truly an embarrassing little gremlin. I swear, I don’t know how anyone finds him annoying when teasing him is the most entertaining thing in the world! xD

"Next time? No, no, no." This entire scene has become iconic. It’s simply amazing—what he says, how he says it. I could watch it on a loop with a dumb grin plastered on my face the whole time. He’s absolutely losing it, completely unhinged, and I love him for it. I don’t care about the disapproval, I don’t care that he got splattered under Lathander’s monastery, and I don’t even care about the gold I had to pay Withers for his resurrection. I’d do it a thousand times over, just to have him scream in my face again! xD For the record, the first time I played, I had no idea what was going on and grabbed the weapon without thinking. Then, in full panic mode, I smashed the whole contraption, not even realizing I could escape. The second time, I did things properly and solved the puzzle. But the third time? I went there with the sole purpose of making Astarion lose his mind. It was premeditated. I left him there while I happily ran away, fully knowing what would happen to him. Forgive me, little Star, you know I love you. <3

"Can we kill them? Please, pretty please?" This one caught me off guard, but I absolutely adore it. Neil is, as always, brilliant. It kills me because everything about his body language—on top of the tone of his voice—screams how badly he wants to do it. After all, he’s a vampire, a predator, and as such, he has certain instincts. He crouches slightly, leans forward, and just the thought of it practically makes him pant. A real, proper vampire, who’s almost about to come in his pants at the mere idea of spilling blood. <3 But there’s also a bittersweet note here. The line makes me laugh so much, especially because, among other things, he’s asking for permission to do something horrible in such a cute and playful way. But that’s just it—Astarion is asking for permission from Tav/Durge, subtly emphasizing the dependent relationship that binds them, especially in the beginning. It’s almost like he’s addressing his new master.

"It's not you, it's me. I have standards." I die every time I hear this line, every time I see that smug, punchable face of his when he says it. It’s never actually happened in any of my playthroughs, but it always makes me laugh out loud—complete with a head shake at how utterly… insufferable he is. Seriously, how can you not love him? And let’s be real—his actual standards? The average Astarion-approved partner is a drunken whoremonger at a brothel, probably a full-blown degenerate. I love how he tries to act all refined, as if he’s some discerning, high-class individual who only picks the best. Yeah, sure, babe. Anyway, Tav/Durge must have really pissed him off to get a response like that. But still, I can’t help but laugh—and, weirdly enough, find it kind of endearing. Because even though he’s got the most slappable face in that moment, he's also hiding his vulnerability, and that’s exactly what makes it so good. Astarion is a walking contradiction, and that’s what makes him such a brilliantly layered character—one who constantly makes you feel a whirlwind of emotions, often conflicting ones.

"Gods above, look at you..." No, I’m done. I’m dying. You transform into a horrifying monster with unsettling fangs and four clawed arms, you get horrified stares, concern, and even a full-on scolding from the entire camp—and then there’s him. He just lifts his gaze, completely unfazed, and says this in an almost admiring, even flirtatious tone. The contrast in reactions absolutely kills me. Sure, Astarion is a vampire, a monster in his own right, but there’s a big difference between a smelly Slayer and a pale, well-dressed, ridiculously handsome elf. There's also the possibility that, after everything he’s been through with Cazador, nothing truly horrifies him anymore. But what I love—besides how hilarious this moment is—is that, out of all the companions, he probably has the fewest lines where he actually judges Tav/Durge. At most, he might call them naive if they act like a hero or see the world as a just place. But beyond that? He doesn’t criticize. He accepts almost everything.

"You have a type, don’t you? Elven prostitutes." This line completely caught me off guard—I had to actually stop and think about it to fully get it. And even then, I kept questioning whether he was really saying what I thought he was saying. And yes. Yes, he absolutely is! I lost it. At first, I didn't even connect the dots that he was talking about himself, so obviously, if I’d been visiting brothels and then ended up with him, I had a type! xD I know, I know—the subtext is actually kind of sad. But that's exactly what makes the line so brilliant! Once again, it’s layered with meaning. There's a bit of resentment, his low opinion of himself, his harsh realism, and of course, his ever-present sarcasm. And yet, it’s still funny. Honestly, I’ve never encountered a character before Astarion who can express so much and evoke so much in just a single line. <3

"I'm actually a princess of House Nightstar." This one kills me every time. Especially the way Neil spits out the name of the tarrasque, Jhonatan. The moment I hear "Jhonatan," I completely lose it. This is, of course, pure sarcasm—his go-to defense mechanism to keep people at arm’s length and wriggle out of uncomfortable situations. Tav/Durge is telling him not to hide things anymore, and we all know Astarion hates talking about himself, especially when it comes to painful or difficult topics like his scars or the deal with Mephistopheles. And naturally, this is how he responds. I just can’t! He’s such an idiot! I love him. And for the record... Jhonatan is one of us! A fantastic husband, I’m sure of it! Someone should absolutely write an Astarion x Jhonatan fanfic. xD

I'll stop here for now. I have a million more favorites I could add, but honestly, pretty much everything Astarion says deserves a discussion of its own! Maybe, when I just can't help myself anymore, I'll make another post about his other fantastic lines. xD

[burnt-by-marigolds]

A (Bitter?) Taste of Power

I’m currently in Act III of my very first BG3 playthrough. I’m enjoying myself immensely in a way I didn’t foresee; I guess I had been too tired of AAA games to believe BG3 could impress me. And yet, there’s a marvel around nearly every corner of the story.

For example, the little cutscene in the flophouse between Astarion and his siblings. I almost missed it entirely, because in my party, Shadowheart has Lathander’s Blood equipped at all times, and that thing emits light. So before I even registered there were any vampire spawns in the vicinity, two mysterious NPCs – Dalyria and Petras, as I was not-so-soon going to learn – went up in a puff of blood-red smoke, even while standing behind a $#%! wall (praise our lord Lathander and his light that shines through solid obstacles). If not for Astarion’s comment, I would probably think it was just some weird glitch on the periphery of my screen.

Anyway, several in-game hours later (and some online searching) I realized I’m not going to meet them again elsewhere and if I want the cutscene, I need to go back to a way earlier save.

But I don’t regret it. The encounter was worth every bit of lost game progress.

It’s no secret Astarion has a penchant for casual violence and cruelty. Kicking squirrels, using mind control to tell others to gut themselves – he may approve of all these actions, should Tav choose to commit them. Enough sitting around – let’s go hurt someone is one of Astarion’s lines said with such playfulness it makes me chuckle every time. And yet, at least during my playthrough, I haven’t seen him act brutally outside of combat. The spawn would approve if my Tav were a bully (he isn't), but up until now, he never did anything himself.

I suppose during Act I and II Astarion is just this kind of a mean kid who likes to watch from the sidelines, hiding behind a tougher ally, and snicker quietly. He’s probably still too scared, still feeling too weak, still trying to get the hang of his new situation. At least, that’s how I imagine it.

Travelling with Tav and others empowers him, little by little. It’s a good thing in general, but there are bumps in the road. As I watched Astarion manhandle Petras, I realized what happens if the work stops halfway – if Astarion gets confident enough to act on his own, but not confident enough to understand he doesn't need to be cruel to show others his worth.

People who are truly self-assured don't need to prove this by outbursts of brutality. They can afford to show clemency. The scene with Petras and Dal shows Astarion still isn't free of Cazador’s influence, as he keeps confusing cruelty with power and power with self-worth. So he has grown enough to take action (instead of letting others handle things and watching from the sidelines), but the underlying motivation remains to avoid appearing weak. Deep inside, there's still anxiety, fear and self-loathing.

There's one more factor that plays a significant role in this scene. Astarion acts tough in front of his siblings, because now he has backup. 

You have no idea what I can do. The sun can’t harm me, Cazador can’t compel me. I don’t need to fear him anymore.

Boastful, isn’t he? So different from the time when my Tav first suggested disposing of Cazador. I still remember how Astarion snapped at Yae for not knowing what he’s saying or who he’d be facing.

But why do I get the feeling Astarion is trying to convince himself as much as he’s trying to convince others? And that he’s trying to impress his companions as much as he’s trying to intimidate Dal and Petras?

Soon enough, the façade crumbles, as Astarion starts to discuss the event with Tav. He gets defensive, he comes up with a whole range of excuses, explanations and justifications. He may even say he's capable of doing the right thing once in a while, as if he deserves a medal for not burning Petras to ash.

I think a part of him knows he overreacted. And the insistent voice in his head tells him other companions will judge him for that and abandon him. The fear finally resurfaces at the end of the dialogue:

We are a team, aren’t we? You’re still with me?

Still placing his worth in extrinsic things, like the support of his new friends. Still so scared of being alone. Remember that memory of the year spent sealed away in darkness?

This is such a potent cutscene; it gave me a lot to chew on, especially regarding headcanons and the relationship between my Tav and Astarion. Yae is no saint himself, but the display of unnecessary cruelty gives him pause. He may need time to process what happened, and temporarily keep more distance from Astarion, which the latter will – of course – read in the worst way possible. There will be misunderstandings, angst, arguments, reconciliations.

But this is a story for a different time.

⊱✿⊰

Postscript:

The date on the file tells me I've written this text over a month ago. 

But then anxiety kicked in. What if I'm wrong? I haven't even finished the game once, I have no right to join in the conversation! I know nothing, I haven't played any of the origin stories! What if there's that obscure bit of dialogue you only get by playing the game for an umpteenth time in a very specific way that sheds entirely new light on this scene? I'm not as smart/observant/articulate/whatever as others!

It took me almost six weeks to realize I can't let my anxious brain win this one. Even if I'm “wrong” (can personal interpretations and impressions really be “wrong”?), this is a testament to how much I've grown to enjoy the game and love the characters and their stories. So, if you've reached the end of this post and even read this postscript – thank you. This is an important step in my fight against the Anxious Brain.

[luna-the-cretar]

Wait I found another interesting thing about episode 1 of eom

During the combat, when Marius does his Divine Smite, Andy first describes his sword as glowing with the red light and the blood red rose petals emanating from it, and then when he did the extra damage from the creature being an undead, Nikkie added onto the fact that Marius still does feel Lathander guiding his sword.

I dunno. Just found it interesting. I had completely forgotten the sword glowed red from the beginning. I just thought that the glow grew redder as the campaign goes on (and maybe it does, idk. Theater of the mind and all that)

[oimliette]

my best is yours

Pairing: Gale/Durge reader

Tags: angst, guilt, hurt/comfort, love confessions

Warnings: it’s durge so you know… violence and gore, but not too explicit. suicidal thoughts as well.

Words: 3.3k

“I don’t want you to die,” You say, voice weak and shaking. You hate how it sounds. “I would never forgive you.”

There is a pause, like he’s taking you in.

“I don’t need you to forgive me. I just need you to be alive.” He says. He says, so softly in the face of your rage, like he’s trying not to break your heart.

His mind is set.

read on ao3

It’s colder than you expected. Halsin didn’t mention that. You knew that the land was cursed, that the shadows were alive and sap both your sanity and strength. You were ready for it. You didn’t think about the temperature.

There’s a chill here like something was breathing down your neck. You still haven’t gotten used to it.

You glance at your companions after fighting against a horde of necrotic plant creatures. Whatever they were, they were clearly not alive, with the glow of the rot-magic emanating from their vines.

It’s only your second day in this cursed place and your party doesn’t look any better than they did yesterday. Astarion looks wary and miserable. He probably hates this place for the same reason he didn’t enjoy the Underdark: there is no trace of sunlight here. The only light comes from your torches and the Blood of Lathander Shadowheart is wielding, casting a soft glow on your surroundings. Shadowheart, on the other hand, looks—distracted, fascinated with the darkness enveloping your party on all sides. You’re concerned, but before you can think more of it, Gale meets your eyes, like he was seeking you out.

You’ve come to rely on Gale over the course of this adventure you were all forced into. Most nights, he is the reason you have warm food in your bellies. He’s a human with a lot of knowledge to dispense, and he takes every opportunity to do that, even to the point of sounding arrogant. Everyone does their part to keep the camp, but it would be particularly difficult to imagine the journey without Gale by your side.

Gale gives you a worried look, one he’d been giving to you more and more often. You pretend not to notice and hurriedly face the other way. You feel tired all of a sudden.

You think to yourself that the fact Gale hasn’t brutally mutilated an innocent girl in their sleep is a pretty good point too.

Sometimes you wonder if it’d be better that he’d have been the one to lead your motley crew instead. He certainly has the makings for it. He’s a reliable man, usually level-headed and preferring to err on the side of caution where you might be stubbornly facing in one direction. He insists on compromise, insistent on working together even though he confessed to you, one night, that he hardly has anyone he can call a friend outside of his tressym.

“I find that hard to believe,” you said. You took the first watch, though not everyone was asleep yet. From beside Gale’s tent, you idly watched Wyll fiddling with a broken lute he found on the road. Gale can talk like he’s used to speaking to himself, expressing himself in full-bodied words more common in academia than in casual talk, but he is unendingly curious, something that, to you at least, was something that endeared you to the wizard.

“I’m glad to hear that. I thought my time spent wallowing at my tower alone had rusted my social skills.” He laughed in relief.

It had, you nearly said out loud. There are instances where it’s obvious, but you decide to keep the comfortable, shared silence.

The flaps of his tent closed after he bid you goodnight. The air was cold, but you ran hot so you didn’t mind. You thought about Gale, as you often do, these days.

He was good at that. Making you feel comfortable in his presence. Like you could trust him. He has some secrets, but who in your camp doesn’t? Every one of them has their own story half-uncovered. You didn’t even know yours, your memory extending as far as waking up on the nautiloid, and the fight to get out of it in one piece.

But the battered state of your mind makes you uneasy. The random pulses of pain and the violent thoughts were symptoms you would have attributed to the parasite, but none of your companions have experienced anything like that. It’s just you. And even in this camp, the gathering of the infected and the hunted, you were the odd one out.

You listened to the wind rustling the leaves overhead. You wondered what your mind knew that you didn't.

Ever since you awoke on the nautiloid, your memory has been spotty. Trying to separate what happened in the first tenday of your adventure from your last is a useless activity.

There is an emptiness inside you that has been there as far as your memory will allow you to remember. Nothing feels real. Almost as if you’d wake from this any moment now, to whatever life you used to live. And this would all be a dream hastily forgotten.

But it’s not a dream. You know that.

The sticky feeling of blood in your hands felt real. The smell of it, sticking to you for days. The red crust under your fingernails that never seemed to disappear.

You are a person that rings hollow, and you are terrified one of these days your companions will see you for what you are: a monster.

You don’t understand why they believe you can lead the way to salvation. You don’t know where you’re going. You can’t even see past today.

But you try anyway. To atone, if not for anything else.

Tonight is no different. Tonight, the camp is tucked into an area you guessed was a less harsh patch of the hostile environment. It felt like picking which area of the mouth of an owlbear would be better to lean your head in. You don’t know why they trust you to know.

You don’t know why they still trust you at all. They’ve never seen you the same after what happened with Alfira.

Your offering of gore, the blood drying in your hands, damning you with each second as you waited for them to wake up, one by one. You didn’t even try to hide it or wash it away. What difference would it have made?

There was still a corpse there, right in your camp. The bard, trusting and sweet, was still dead.

Was she awake when you did the horrible deed? Was she breathing when you painted the ground with her innards? When you burst her eyeballs in her skull? You could almost feel it burst under your thumbs, the sensation familiar, deep in the recesses of your mind.

The gnawing headache at your brain grows. Pulsing, pounding.

Their tolerance of you is a reflection of everyone’s desperation, willing to let you stay because they cannot afford to be picky with company now. No one in the camp’s hands were clean but you doubt they’ve ever been this stained.

She didn’t die immediately. You know this, somewhere in your broken mind. It makes you sick that you’ve never felt more alive than the morning after.

You’ve been doing good. No murders in the night since then. But you’d be lying if you said there aren’t nights when you wake up with a start, afraid to see where or who your knife-hand has fallen on.

You wonder if they’re suspicious of you, still.

You set up camp, because you are tired and Astarion is whining about the trek and Shadowheart seems absolutely taken with the curse wrapping around all of your necks, threatening to invade and twist and unmake and Gale—well. His gaze is filled with determination, though his posture betrays his exhaustion. There’s something he wants to say, you’re sure, but unfortunately for him, it’ll have to wait until camp is set.

The headache persists. Your head throbs.

After a while, you sit by yourself in front of the campfire. On any other occasion you’d prefer to have been standing to the side, away from the comings and goings of the people in camp trying to get food or putting and taking from the chest. But that was before.

In these lands, the very ground itself seems malicious, trying to lick at the skin of your boots. The light provides some comfort against the oppressive dark.

Gale sits himself beside you. You don’t acknowledge his presence but you let him sit so close your knees touch. The point of contact is nice. Comfortable.

The fire is warm, but more importantly it is bright. Already you begin to feel better. Less like your soul is being syphoned away.

Gale calls your name, staring at you with sincere eyes you cannot meet.

This is a fragile alliance. A party brought by circumstance and tied together by desperate need to live, despite it all. They are all so wildly different, each with their own goals to accomplish—but this is what you have in common. This is what brings you together: you want to live.

“It’s alright, Gale. I’m not hungry,” you say first. That is not what he wants to speak about. You know that.

You surprised yourself with how furious you became at Gale’s pathetic acceptance of the fate thrust upon him by his goddess. How could he not thrash around, rebel at the circumstance! His plan to take this with hands behind his back and his head bowed down as the blade dropped on his neck made your blood boil, made your teeth ache with the urge to tear.

Good fucking gods, every single day you’ve though about killing yourself, each method more gruesome than the next. Driving a knife through your own heart. Bathing in acid. One by one removing your senses until you die of blood loss. Eyes are the last to go, so you can see what you’ve made of yourself.

It’s a common fantasy, a permanent solution to your problem: you. But no one is supposed to die. You don’t succumb to the urge because you have people to lead. Sins to atone for. You of all people don’t get to have a break from your torturous mind. That’s your fucking burden to bear and you will bear it as long as you are able.

It’s your job to save them from this. They trust you, when they really shouldn’t, and godsdamned if you’ll let one of them get killed because some fucking prissy goddess can’t fix a problem herself.

Lot of good all these deities have done in Faerun, you curse as you look at the darkness surrounding you from all sides. You can barely see anything past it, even with darkvision. Just more twisting trees and the glowing rot leaking from the land like pus from a wound.

“You’ve been reckless lately. More so than usual—alarmingly so. Make no mistake, I am not here to complain about the efficiency of dealing with our enemies. I am most appreciative of that fact. But I do get concerned with how you tend to act after.”

“What do you mean, Gale?” You ask. He has this habit of beating around the bush and though you’d usually find his wordiness endearing, today has been long.

It weighs on your shoulders, every time you leave camp, every night you set it up again. Another day. Food. Loot. Trade. Kill. Day in and day out. Live live live. Another step in front of the other. Every day, asking you to live longer.

The light at the end of the tunnel is getting ever farther as you walk closer, but you keep these thoughts to yourself.

Your companions deserve to be alive. They deserve to hope. Just because you lost yours doesn’t mean you’re about to break their morale. You know they’ll make it.

But you? No. You don’t even deserve to see it.

“Yes, you’re right. Well, truth be told, I worry about you…” Then he says your name again, so gently, like his tongue was cradling the syllables in his mouth. “Not as our leader. As you.”

“You don’t have to.” You interrupt, uncomfortable with the sincerity. You can take care of yourself. Whoever he thinks he’s fussing over—it’s not you. You don’t need the concern, cloying and all too sweet. All too easy to use. He doesn’t know you, doesn’t understand the wickedness in your head and your heart.

“Ah, you’ll find that I want to.” He flashes a charming smile. “Clearly, you aren’t looking after yourself, so someone has to.” He points to himself.

Your headache pulses. You imagine in a world without these urges, the charm might have worked. Maybe you’d be brave enough to look him in the eye, tell him honeyed words that you have so desperately wanted to. If you were just normal, someone unburdened by the blood singing under your skin, this would go differently.

Oh, yeah? You imagine yourself saying. Do it then.

But this isn’t that world, so instead you scoff, because Gale is orchestrating his own death in two different ways and if you think about it too much you might drive yourself insane. Isn’t that fucking hilarious, that the first person you let inch into your heart is going to die, either by your foul hand or a deity that thinks him so invaluable she would ask him to kill himself for the sake of the world?

This sweet, trusting man. Arrogant and unbearable. You want to kill him yourself. You want to save him. From Mystra. From you.

He looks embarrassed with his attempt at flirting and hurt at your reaction. You want to tear your heart open. You want to atone. For this. Fuck, for everything. Maybe you’ve already doomed him by letting his affection get to you. Does he know how close he is to your heart?

You just swallow the lump in your throat. You can see some people in the camp pass a glance at the both of you, and you sigh. “Can we go to your tent?”

For once, Gale shuts his mouth and nods. He sits down after you enter the tent, quiet still. You bite your tongue. Think, if only for a few moments.

“I don’t need your help.”

“I think you’ve made that clear.” He replies curtly.

“I—“ you grit your teeth. “You can barely take care of yourself. And now you want to save me—“

“I never mentioned saving! And my apologies for daring to care about you—”

“You’re a hypocrite, Gale. You know how tough this journey’s been. You say you’ve been watching me. You know my mind is broken, possibly beyond repair. But I’m not dead! That’s my choice, every godsdamned day to put one foot in front of the other and hope that I at least get to do the one good deed of saving you before I go. My choice to stay in this godforsaken place because you’re my people.

You continue, “Did you think no one would care? That we would all proceed like normal, go about our daily lives saying thank fucking Mystra, good on her to tell Gale to kill himself and like a stupid little dog he followed through with it. You’re not on her leash anymore, so act like you have a choice, damn it!”

Your chest is heaving. There is prickling behind your eyes.

You realise you would do anything to keep him alive. You would raze down hordes of innocent hundreds by yourself if it meant the poison in his veins were cured. It would be adding to your tally of sins. It would weigh on your heart. But aren’t you already damned?

Aren’t you both?

“I don’t want you to die,” You say, voice weak and shaking. You hate how it sounds. “I would never forgive you.”

There is a pause, like he’s taking you in.

“I don’t need you to forgive me. I just need you to be alive.” He says. He says, so softly in the face of your rage, like he’s trying not to break your heart.

His mind is set. This is how it will be: you will live and he will die.

The irony of it is not lost on you. You, who have been begging for death. You, who have been trudging through this journey to lead them to a future you could not imagine being a part of.

Gale has so many reasons to live. His mother. His tressym, Tara. His brilliant mind, which would do much more good in the world if it was lent to research than here, fighting for their lives every day. This is not the life Gale should have lived. This is not how he’s supposed to go out.

He’s supposed to be back home in Waterdeep. He’s supposed to live a full life, passing on after making great contributions to the world, remembered for who he was: an intelligent, kind man, brilliant in both the head and heart. You ache to imagine yourself with him.

You don’t deserve it.

“I love you,” your shaky voice whispers. You had all the intention to keep it unspoken until you were in your grave, but Gale needs to know how much of a hold he has on you. That the thought of him makes every day a little easier.

That, selfishly, he needs to stay for you.

He wipes the wetness from your cheeks. You lean into his hand, despite yourself, and you can’t stop crying now that you’ve started. You idly watch the slow drops on the ground, even as your eyesight blurs. You can’t face him.

You want to have this. To have him. You place your hand above his, intertwining them as they rest on your cheek. You bring it to your lips and kiss the back of his hand.

Your blood gnashes in your veins, protesting the vulnerability without violence.

You’re so tired of atoning.

His arms wrap around you, wordlessly, and your head rests on his shoulder. Away from his gaze, you speak up, voice still soft. “You deserve to live.”

“So do you.” He replies. You shake your head.

“You’ve seen what I can do. There is something wicked in my heart that I cannot cure. Every day I—“ You breathe out, shaky. You’ve never admitted this to anyone, didn’t even want to acknowledge the event to others in the fear they realise you’re a foul creature and cast you out. Remove your reason for being alive: your clan. “Every day I wake up and check my hands for blood. I don’t deserve you. I don’t even deserve to live.” You remember how blood feels. Sticky. Sweet. Familiar.

“You do.” He insists. Places his hand on the back of your head, cradling you. He treats you so gently, like you haven’t mauled and killed and lied. “Because I say so. I want you to live. I want you to have a good life, even beyond the tadpoles and the Absolute. Beyond me.”

“Then we’ve hit an impasse.” You remove yourself from him, looking him in the eye now. “You won’t die and I won’t.”

He grins in a way you can feel work into your heart.

You’re going to have to face the inevitability of each other’s deaths someday. Your adventure is a perilous one. You’ve already had many close calls, least of which the danger that you yourself pose to the others.

“I want to show you something, soon,” Gale says. You can feel his voice vibrate in his chest. You hum in response, your eyes already closed. The day has been long, taxing both emotionally and physically, and it’s only now catching up to you. “I don’t have nearly enough energy right now,” Gale chuckles. “But know that the depths of my feelings… You’ll see it. I promise.”

You trust him. Gods, you really do believe him.

You cling to his words: you deserve to live because I say so.

What makes mortal conviction any less powerful than a god? If Gale thinks you should live, then you will.

Maybe it can be that simple.

Perhaps you do deserve a slow, painful death. You know, somewhere in your broken mind, that Alfira wasn't the only victim of your cruelty. Maybe that would be the just thing to do, to wipe you off Fae’rûn. To rip this rare-found peace away from you.

Tomorrow will be another day. Another fight. One foot in front of the other. Live live live.

Your past will catch up to you someday. Your hands have committed countless unforgivable atrocities.

But tonight, your hands cover Gale in an embrace.

[keter-kannot]

RAH 😤😫 HALSIN HAS A KNOT

Okay, first smut fic ever posted 😭😭 in lime with the general theme of @thebluester2020 's 2024 kinktober list. I have,,, quite a few days to catch up on lmao, but ENJOY :D this one is full of the soft, beautiful praise I just KNOW Halsin would be a pro at.

MINORS: DNI

“Good, good, my love,” there was a gentle drone behind Halsin’s voice, the rarely seen desperate side of him making itself known. It was primal in nature; deep, guttural, needy… something Tav wished she could trap between her hands and cherish to enjoy over and over again until the end of time. The way his little groans escaped his lips, his hand twitching as it played gently with her hair.

She found herself like this more and more these days, but didn’t mind. At first there was a bit of hesitation on her end; it wasn’t often she’d had to wonder about how she looked on her knees, and for someone with enough self-assuredness as her, she didn’t think there’d be any issue.

It was his words, though, that got her through it. Gods, his words. She could see why he’d been given such status, such responsibility. He was able to talk his way through just about anything, his velvet words wrapping themselves around anyone who’d listen and hold them tight.

Now, as she gently took the tip of his cock in her mouth, it was his words yet again that drained her of any other thought but of that to please him.

“Oh, my heart,” his soft hiss of approval driving her to take more of him as she looked up, meeting his wanting eyes. Her stomach flipped, her eyes fluttered, and she pushed herself further down his heavy length, making sure not to break eye contact as her cheeks filled and flushed a deep red.

As his jaw started falling further and further, his eyes widening more and more, his warm hand gripped the back of her head gently, pushing her to take him even further.

“Y–you’re made to be seen like this,” he managed between a huff and a groan as he continued to slowly guide her movements, “perfectly taking all of me, sat just so on your knees…”

She could feel his focus get fiercer as his grip tightened on her hair, pushing and pulling her eager mouth up and down his length with a practiced rhythm. Her little chokes did nothing but encourage him, his tip throbbing every time it hit the back of her throat.

“My treasure,” he moaned, fighting with himself as he pulled her lips away from him, tilting her chin to make sure he could see the bit of precum dripping from the side of her lips. “As much as I’d like to keep you on your knees, I’m afraid I can’t help but need more of you.”

His hands caressed her waist as he pulled her to stand, lingering on her back and thighs as he slowly lifted her from the forest floor, wrapping her legs around him like so. He kissed her with both a tenderness and fierce desire that mixed so sweetly with the beating of their hearts, the pumping of their blood, the song of the quiet forest around them, and even the silent shine of Lathander’s embrace.

He took his time exploring her mouth with his own, lazily taking his time in letting her know how deeply he felt connected to her, how greatly he felt for her. After all, they now had all the time in the world.

She could feel him throbbing and somehow growing larger still beneath her, the rhythmic rolling of his hips matching the time of their heavy breaths.

His fingers made their way to her slick folds as he led them back down to the forest floor, her legs straddling him as he made slow circles around her already aching clit. The smile that splayed on his lips as she let out a moan made her flush.

He leaned in to pepper soft kisses on the nape of her neck, on her collarbone, on her chest. “How I love to hear you sing for me.”

Continuing his slow assault on her twitching sex, his other hand found his length and positioned himself right at her entrance.

Then, he flushed, a sudden bit of embarrassment showing on his face; something she hadn’t seen since he’d gifted her the first whittled duck.

She looked at him, concerned. “Halsin?”

He cleared his throat, his eyes flitting to the side as she squirmed on his lap which, of course, did nothing but make the burly man blush more.

“Why… why’d you stop?”

He shook his head for a moment before sighing and lifting his head to meet her eyes again. “Give me your hand,” he said.

She did. 

He lead her soft grip back between both sets of their legs, sucking in a soft breath as her fingers made their way around his shaft and down, until– 

Her eyes went wide. 

His look of concern grew deeper. “It’s, well, you know… There are, well, certain animals sometimes–”

“Halsin, is that a fucking knot ?” 

If only she could capture the way his face turned the deepest shade of red she’d ever seen, all the way up to the very tips of his pointy ears. A smirk started to splay across her lips, and now it was her turn to lift his chin, prompting him to look her in the eyes. 

“If… you don’t have to… I don’t expect you to–” 

It was her own desire that fueled her next actions as she lifted herself back above his head, perfectly sat at her entrance. “What, is my big bear in rut?” a sly giggle left her lips as she leaned herself closer to him, her breath hot on his ear, “Afraid he won’t be able to control himself? Afraid I can’t take it?”

The slowly lowered herself on his length, his dick having somehow gotten even larger than just moments ago when it was stuffing her mouth full. Her breath hitched in her chest as she took her time taking him, her walls spasming and clenching with the sudden feeling of being so full, no matter how slow she went. 

He had all but lost himself beneath her, her words undoing any hesitation he had and melting them back into the primal desire he knew all too well; the overwhelming feeling of needing to mark her as his own and make sure she knew just how gorgeous she looked while he did it. 

It was with a swift motion that he had positioned himself atop her, laying her gently beneath him on the grass. As the sun kissed her skin and he nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck, he pushed himself deeper inside of her. 

She wrapped her legs tighter around him, feeling him not just hit the perfect sweet spot inside, but keep pushing past it as he went further and further. Her walls clenched tight with anticipation, not knowing how much more of him there was before she’d start feeling the pressure. 

“So, so perfect…” he muttered, his breathing in time with his slow thrusts as he watched her intently. “You take me so well, my heart,” he grunted, finally feeling his swelling knot just barely stretch at her entrance. 

With a deep groan, he told her to look at him. “I want to see you, love,” he breathed, “want to truly see you as I fill you, watch your beauty melt beneath me.”

Her own moans had already become erratic, the slow rocking of his hips back and forth pulling his cock against her core in the perfect way again and again. As she twitched and writhed beneath him, she could feel herself trying her hardest not to fight against it. 

“Don’t fight it, my heart,” he kissed her temple, then her ear, then her neck, “Relax. Let me claim you.”

Her back arched as he pushed himself into her with more force, her cunt stretching perfectly to fit every bit of him inside. She grabbed at his back, legs shaking as she pulled them tighter around him. 

“Good, love. That’s so, so good,” he breathed, finally bottoming out. He twitched inside of her and felt her tighten around him with each throb and little rut he pushed against her. “Yes, yes, just like that, beautiful.”

His hands clenched to fists on either side of her head in the grass beneath them, the soft sounds of their sex ruminating and mixing well with the forest soft. 

Her moans became hitched please, became desperate gasps as he continued his slow and methodical fucking. With each passing moment he filled more and more of her, saw himself claiming her over and over. 

“My perfect little mate,” he muttered, “your exquisite, ” his own grunts became more labored, doing nothing but encouraging the rapid heat building in her core. 

She all but vibrated with pure passion, losing control of herself as she came undone around him, cumming relentlessly on his knot as he picked up the pace with his thrusts to chase his own finish. 

He held her close as she convulsed against him, fucking her through her own high as he held her hips tight against his own, his spend dripping quickly down their thighs as he came undone with her. 

Their hot breaths mingled as they slowly came back to themselves, Halsin still deep inside of her and not wanting to move anytime soon. 

“My heart,” he breathed, a heady chuckled finding her ears as she slowly opened her eyes to see the clear skies above them. 

And him, framed perfectly in Lathander’s blessing, ready for round two. 

[enchantedbat]

I love love the idea of the Winx (and Trix) having proper armour. Mainly because I love women in armour. But I would also like for them to stay in a transformation, say Enchantix, and just get an upgrade that is like special for their mission. Enchantix is the highest transformation, so... Give them weapons!

Layla should have a weapon. TECNA SHOULD HAVE ONE! Should Stella have one? No but instead of getting a whole transformation, somebody just tells them: “Have these!” - and it’s mace, sword or axe. Because the Trix usually get a similar power-up, they definitely get weapons too. I think Stormy would enjoy one. She deserves one as a treat.

List of weapons: Layla(Aisha): Trident. It immediately makes me think of water deities, gods or royals. It fits the whole princess of Andros theme while being quite versatile in fighting. She can throw it and use it for melee attacks. Musa: Glaive. Specifically a Guan Dao. It has a pretty red tassel attached to it which gives me a bit of Enchantix Musa vibes but I chose it because the movements when used look a lot like dancing to me. Even though Layla mainly is the dancer of the group, Musa should have something connected to music. Tecna: My first thought was stun batons. Obviously, electricity. Furthermore Tecna shows off martial art skills and when I think batons, I think of Nightwing. She could definitely handle these. Stella: Mace. They can have such pretty designs and we could have sun/star/moon-themed one. I am also an addictive player of BG3 and thought of the Blood of Lathander which would fit Stella so well. In my mind, maces need no specific technique. It’s just banging it on enemies’ heads. They are also quite heavy and I think Stella can handle that just fine. Flora: I know Flora is capable of attacking and hurting but I think she would like a more defense weapon. I thought about a whip at first or ribbons which is similar to what Helia wields but maybe it’s more gymnastics-like ribbon (Barbie and the Muskeets kind of stuff). Bow and arrow? Perhaps? That’s the first true long-ranged weapon which could benefit the team. Bloom: I wanted to give her a sword. It’s classic but a strong weapon. A flaming sword is so badass too! Maybe the blade is a flame and it can bend to her will! It reminds me of the 1000 degree knife trend/meme. Worried about Bloom’s healing powers? Don’t be. Because:

Stormy: I found something that is called Wind and fire wheels. They are similar to chakrams which were my initial thought. Just twirling and slashing. Chakrams could fit better because they are throwing weapons and they could have a magical effect of coming back. Darcy: A gun. I could see Darcy with fans due to the hiding/disguising factor. It should have blades. Better yet: folded it is a dagger and then she can unfold it to have multiple daggers. Optional: She could have a kusarigama which is like a chain sickle. Just the thought of something coming towards you out of the shadows is scary. Icy: An axe or multiple axes. Depends on size really. A gigantic battle axe that’s almost the size of Icy herself or hatchets. Good for throwing and it’s really terrifying to see someone with two axes in their hands coming towards you.

What about the specialists? They could have a teaching moment as in, they help the Winx master these weapons. OR: they get a magical transformation. Let these boys enjoy their crop tops and be incredibly powerful.

[pheavampire]

Astarion, Cazador and D&D vampire lore

Let’s talk about D&D vampires and some lore inconsistencies in Baldur’s Gate 3.

BG3 is not a game about vampires. It was obvious we won’t get a playable character who will be 100% vampire spawn from the handbooks - the mechanical balance would be disturbed in comparison with other characters. But we can list some weird stuff and missing aspects. For fun, for fanfiction, for nerdiness.

I still wonder why Cazador even asked Astarion if he wants to be turned. Sure, he could do that, so he could say later „ha ha you asked for it!” but still - weird. Anyway, a vampire lord doesn’t need to ask - he just bites his victim, kills it by drinking its blood and boom, a vampire spawn is made. Almost made…

… because at first the victim needs to be buried and layed in the ground before it rises. That’s the next question - how the hell did Cazador make 7000 spawns? Theoretically he needed to bury them all, dig them back/wait until they dig themselves out or something and transport them to his dungeon without being noticed. His servants could do that for him, but it still is a pretty big thing to cover. Besides…

… accordng to D&D 3.5 edition: "At any given time a vampire may have enslaved spawn totaling no more than twice its own Hit Dice" which means it was impossible for Cazador to create 7000 spawns. Sure, Baldur's Gate 3 uses 5 ed rules, but I'm sure they didn't change this one that much. (BUT! We can interpret this rule as: a vampire lord can create as many spawns as he wants, but the number of enslaved ones is limited. That's all right in this case).

That being said, Astarion is surprised when he discovers that all Cazador’s victims are spawns now. One of his dialogue options is „I thought Cazador was feeding on you”. Well yes, he had to feed on them to make them spawns Astarion, I thought you noticed that yourself 200 years ago. But let's say I understand your confusion, 7000 spawns mean Cazador's hit dice is 3500. Lol.

As a vampire spawn, Astarion should be able to regenerate even without biting someone. To be precise, he should get 10 health points at the start of every turn until he gets killed. But ok, this one doesn’t work in the sun, so let’s say it’s justified… unless the party is in the underdark, shadowlands or other dark place. But yeah, that would be too OP.

Astarion should be afraid of holy symbols, mirrors and garlic. That would be quite irritating, as he wouldn’t be able to even get near Selune's stuff or Lathander’s temple (Lathander HATES the undead, just ask poor Jander Sunstar). But let’s say the tadpole gave him immunity.

Spider climb. Imagine Astarion climbing walls or even ceilings like a damn Spiderman - this is what a regular vampire spawn can do. If the tadpole took away this ability, that’s not very nice of it.

Claws. Astarion should be able to transform his fingers into claws at will. That’s right, it works like another melee weapon.

Coffins, graves et cetera - bunk beds in Cazador's palace are a very anti-canon idea. Because D&D vampires have really traditional weaknesses, they always have to „sleep” in the ground they were buried in to recover - just like Cazador. Jander I mentioned earlier invented an un-lifehack, as he was traveling through Faerun by keeping some of the dirt from his grave in his pocket. He was scattering it in the place he wanted to rest for some time.

A vampire spawn can be controlled or banished by clerics like any other undead. That's right, when Shadowheart casts this one, Astarion should roll the dice, or else he will have to run away from her like those zombies you banished during your playthrough.

Last but not least, vampires get damage if they are in the flowing water, for example river, but you already know this one from the early access Astarion. Shame they removed it, in was a bit irritating but I loved it. It reminded me Astarion is a vampire not only in the dialogues.

That's all I can think of now. My knowledge is a mix of 3.5 and 5 ed, do with it what you want. I wouldn't mind more lore accuarte Astarion fanfics though.

Shocked Astarion reading D&D Monster Manual. Or Libris Mortis.