#i WAS originally going to romance Astarion with him but then I found out he was RACIST (why did they do that it’s not even loadbearing)

[maddisandy]

honestly i think the fact that laezel is soleils closest bestie and they're partners with astarion is very fitting given they both have the exact sane approvals most of the time. also the laezel lovemailing is very much coming from the fact that while streaming with our friend tonight we were complaining about the awful takes people have on laezel because she acts mean and now im thinking about how much i love her again

[kitabasis]

ok so I lied (changed my mind). Dirge (yes that’s their name I’m boring but I like the symbolism) isn’t going to be a glass cannon mage or a dex-y ranger. They’re going to be a Giant Butch human devotion paladin (who’s going to be forced to become an oathbreaker very quickly by circumstances but we’ll work on it).

I’m planning/hoping on getting Baldur’s Gate 3 soon. I’m planning on doing Dark Urge for my first run, but I can’t decide what lineage and class they should be. So. Poll.

additional information that might be useful: I want a high wisdom (because i would rather not fail murder checks), high-ish charisma (because from my understanding that’s a not unimportant part of character interactions), and a decent probability of not immediately dying

[fourraccoonsinacoat]

Fall for Me | One Shot

Pairing: Astarion x Dark Urge

Rating: Explicit NSFW18+

Chapter Count: One Shot | Read on AO3 Word Count: 8,048

Title: Fall for Me - Sleep Token

Summary: Takes place during the events of Baldur's Gate 3 during Act 2. Explores the romance between Astarion and the Dark Urge as Astarion realizes there's a depth to his feelings that he's been trying to deny. Tags: Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Humor, Idiots in Love, Mentions of Violence, Soft Astarion, Spoilers for the Dark Urge and BG3 in general, Dark Urge as Original Female Character.

Author Note: Well…this got a bit out of hand. It started as me wanting to write about the moment Astarion realizes he's in deeper than he thought with this relationship, then morphed into me wanting to explore his headspace while being intimate, and then just devolved into absolute filth. I have no excuses. This fic precedes another of my fics called "Faint of Heart," which can be found on my account.

Astarion woke to a cold and suffocating darkness. A scent of wet decay hung in the air, eerily familiar, and all around him the silence screamed.

The night was distinctly void of the mundane sounds that had become commonplace during their journey. Even as they trekked through the Shadowlands towards Moonrise Towers, their nights usually bristled with distant howls and the whispers of skeletal trees as their limbs tangled and clacked in the wind. Now, however, there was nothing but a heavy and stifling quiet that set his nerves on edge. An anxious sense of wrongness stirred in his gut as he tried to get his bearings.

Where was he? Last he remembered, their group bedded down on the outskirts of an abandoned town called Reithwin. They intended to explore the decrepit buildings and shadowed ruins the next day as they pushed towards Moonrise.

Astarion sat up and blinked into the clawing darkness, squinting as if that would somehow bring the world around him into focus. Even with his darkvision, nothing manifested except the ever-expanding gloom all around him.

He ran a hand across the damp floor and shivered against the deep chill that engulfed him. He cast about for his belongings but found none, only a cracked tile floor slick with mildew and grime.  

He heard a metallic clatter in the darkness as he shifted around and suddenly tuned in to a weight around his right ankle. An icy dread began to rise in his throat like bile as he hesitantly reached out and touched the shackle, fastened tight.

No…

Panic shot through his heart like a stake and his mouth went dry. He realized with a vile shock why he recognized the scent of old rot which saturated the air. It was the smell of stale rat blood mixed with years of filth and dirt.

He was back in the kennels. Back in Cazador’s grasp.

The realization nearly made him vomit as terror and confusion twisted in his stomach. Astarion hadn’t needed to breathe in over 200 years, and yet that didn’t stop his chest from tightening nor his lungs from seizing. Panic swept through him. He tried to gulp down air as a constricted and choking feeling pressed over him. Eyes wild, Astarion desperately tried to catch sight of something…anything in the relentless gloom.

How? Why? What in the hells had happened?

His mind wheeled, fueled by a horrifying sense of upheaval. He didn’t recall being attacked, but that didn’t change the situation he now found himself in.

He had to get out. He couldn’t be here. This couldn’t happen. This wasn’t right.

Except…it was. Because this was how his life had always been. He’d never escape. Never be free. Cazador would always find a way to drag him back. His master would never let go. He would always find Astarion, no matter how far he ran.

Thou shalt know that thou art mine.

Cazador’s fourth rule burned in Astarion’s mind, haunting and vicious. He stifled a sob, swallowing it back down and gritting his teeth until his jaw ached. He needed to figure out what had happened, because if he was here then…

Eli…

His stomach lurched as a fresh wave of dread nearly choked him. Where was Eli? If Cazador had been able to seize Astarion, had he taken her, as well? Guilt flooded his mind as it raced, trying to piece together some sequence of events that made sense. None of it seemed logical, but he was too panicked to dwell on the irrational nature of it all.

If Cazador had Eli…

But Cazador didn’t know, he couldn’t know…how Astarion felt about her. Hells, Astarion didn’t even understand his own emotions when it came to Eli. She was…something to him. More than nothing, so much more than nothing.

If Cazador had her…if he turned her…hurt her… Gods, what had Astarion done? He’d put a target on her, and of course Cazador would find her and take her. Because that was what he did. He destroyed anything that brought Astarion even a moment of happiness. How could he have been so stupid?

“Eli?” Astarion called quietly into the darkness, unable to mask the distress that clawed at his throat.

The voice that answered struck him numb with fear.

“Foolish boy. How easy it was to deceive your weak mind.” The cruel mockery in Cazador’s voice caused Astarion to flinch as if he’d been hit.

“What did you do with her?” Astarion hissed through bared teeth, dreading the answer.

“Nothing. Because she is nothing.” Cazador’s voice reverberated in the darkness as if he were everywhere at once.

Astarion didn’t understand whatever game his master was playing, and so he remained silent; shivering, though not as much from the cold as the trepidation.

“You’ve always possessed such a feeble mind, so easy to bend and break,” the voice bit from the shadows. “Did you honestly believe you’d escaped? That you’d been abducted? I planted such an absurd fantasy in your head that I had my doubts as to whether you would believe it. But your incompetence never ceases to entertain.” 

Astarion’s eyes went wide and he froze like a prey animal that had only just sensed a trap. A slow, creeping horror slithered up his spine at the thought of what Cazador was insinuating.      

“None of it was real, you pathetic little wretch. You’ve been here, the whole time, trapped in an illusion of my design.”

Astarion was going to be sick.

“I thought it was time to pull back the curtain, before you got too attached. To remind you that you are mine, and that will never change. Because who would want something as miserable as you?”

He couldn’t breathe. He didn’t need to breathe, and yet he couldn’t. His throat burned with bile that came up from his churning stomach. Hot tears seared the corners of his eyes and his brain felt as if it were on fire.

It hadn’t been real… None of it… He’d never be free…

You are mine. 

_______________________________

Astarion gasped awake, as if he were a man drowning who’d finally come up for air.

His chest heaved as sweat cooled against his skin in the night air. He rolled onto his side, coughing as the memory of vomit receded. He felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes and wiped at the ones that had already trailed down his face.

Sitting up, Astarion shivered as the nightmare withdrew, glancing around his darkened tent anxiously as the ghost of Cazador loomed in his mind. He was alone, and though night in the Shadowlands was grim, it was not nearly as oppressive as the darkness in his dream.

A feeble hazy moonlight leaked through the murky tree canopy outside, casting a dim sheen through the pitch of night. Shadows bobbed and weaved on the walls of his tent, cast by drooping and swaying trees. The snarl of an animal sounded somewhere far off in the distance, and Astarion sighed as he tried to settle himself.

His nightmares were dipping into parts of himself he’d rather not acknowledge, preying on fears he wasn’t ready to face. He frowned, stomach knotting as residual feelings of fear and loss flashed through his mind like grease catching alight in a cook pan. He ran a hand through his white curls, recalling the anguish he’d felt in the depths of his dream. He’d felt so small. So fearful and alone. It made him restless.

Astarion stood and exited his tent, stepping into the chill of the night. Their campfire had burned to embers, the light barely able to cut through the murky darkness. The hour was either exceptionally late or achingly early, and the camp was still. Astarion was the only creature stirring in the gloom.

Memories, unbidden, jerked into his mind. Nights spent lurking in silent shadows, looking for a hapless target to bring back to the mansion. The endlessness of his putrid life was the only thing he thought lay before him. More decades of pain, torture and misery. The uncaring hopelessness of it all crushing every scrap of faith and every desperate prayer he had within until all that remained was a broken shell. Unfeeling and brittle.

He hated how wretched and pathetic he’d been. Used up and miserable. He never wanted to feel that way again. And so he fled from those memories, seeking distraction and solace, until he came to stand at the entrance to Eli’s tent.

Astarion paused just outside the mouth of the tent, apprehension twisting in his gut. He was being silly and foolish, he knew. Eli was fine. She’d be asleep in her bedroll and Astarion would feel like an idiot who’d allowed himself to get worked up over a godsdamn nightmare.

Gently, he pulled back the curtain that hung across the tent mouth and peered inside. As predicted, Eli was fast asleep with her back to the entrance. Astarion watched her shoulder rise and fall slowly as she breathed and felt the gnawing tension inside himself loosen its grip, just a bit.

Stupid. This was stupid. He was stupid. Gods, he wanted to hold her…

He wanted her to look at him like he meant something, like he was worth something. He wanted to lose himself in her, like that first night when they’d created their own pocket of nowhere. Free from Cazador and all of his miseries, free from the pain and the fear. Just them, wrapped up in hushed whispers and sweat and lust…and something else. Something different and needy and fragile. Something he’d never felt with anyone else.

“Astarion?” Eli’s voice pulled him back into the world and he blinked, focusing on her as she turned over to face him.

Of course she was awake. Eli’s sleep had become even more restless and fleeting since the night she’d woken him in a panic and he’d had to restrain her. He’d watched over her as she writhed, witnessing her loss of control as the thing within clawed for the surface. It had reminded him of how Cazador would wrest control of his spawn, forcing them to do as he commanded without resistance. He’d realized then that he feared losing her. That he cared and desperately wanted her to overcome whatever this monster was.

He was struggling with the realization, but that didn’t make the truth of it any less real.

“I’m sorry, my dear.” Astarion spoke quietly, shaking his head as if that would rid his mind of its cluttered thoughts. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Without pausing to dissuade himself, he crawled forward into Eli’s tent and sat next to her bedroll. He had allocated absolutely zero thoughts to what he would say or do next, but that wasn’t necessarily uncommon for him these days. Things had been working out for him so far, so why shift strategy?

Eli sat up and watched him curiously. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh, yes,” he said, waving off the concern that was growing in her eyes. “I’ve just been unable to sleep, what with Gale one tent over and snoring like an ogre with swamp lung. So, considering our current arrangement, I thought I might share your tent for the remainder of the night.”

Astarion’s words flowed with well-practiced ease and charm, as if he hadn’t just made that entire excuse up on the spot. He smirked at Eli, who was still fixing him with a skeptical stare, and fought down the sudden anxiety that was rising in his chest and urging him to back out of the tent.

Eli had become rather versed in reading Astarion and it was something he had not quite come to terms with yet. On one hand, it stroked the egotistical part of him that desired attention and affirmation to have someone so attentive to him that they could peak behind the pomp and bluster he so often put forth. On the other hand, he felt as if a part of him was at risk of being snatched away or trapped if someone was able to pull back the roguish mask he’d so carefully crafted. He felt unbalanced, oscillating between moments of vulnerability with Eli and moments where he slammed his walls back in place.

A part of him wanted to tell her why he was really there. That the thought of her, the thought of them, not being real had shaken him to the point where he physically needed to see her. Just to put his mind at ease. He didn’t understand it, himself; the feeling that had driven him to seek her out after he woke. And so he kept his mouth shut and didn’t elaborate, fearing that Eli may think him rather pitiful.

Eli continued to watch Astarion, dubious yet silent, before she sighed and shrugged. “Alright then. If you don’t want to tell me what’s really going on, that’s fine,” she said, then patted the space next to her on the bedroll. “You’re always welcome, you know.”

Astarion felt a strange pang of…disappointment twist in his chest. He’d honestly expected Eli to press further for an explanation that wasn’t clearly pulled out of his ass. But she didn’t. It was disarming.

He moved to her side and situated himself as Eli laid back down. She watched him for a moment as he fluffed a pillow and settled, then she closed her eyes with a deep breath and said nothing more.

“Thank you,” Astarion said quietly as his eyes danced across her restful face.

He felt a sense of unease, unused to having his boundaries respected in such a way. Eli had never been the sort to prod at him for explanations, or to prod at anyone, for that matter. As someone with their own menagerie of secrets and internalized darkness, she tended to allow others the leeway to decide how much or how little they wanted to share. Still, they’d been…indulging in one another rather frequently these days, and Astarion was realizing that while their nights together were a lot of fun, he wanted something…more.

The problem was he hadn’t any idea what that “more” was. And gods did it frighten him. The last thing he wanted to do was give someone else control over him, not after he’d so recently regained a taste of freedom. Over the past 200 years, every relationship he’d ever been involved in had been nothing more than a means to an end with Astarion either playing the role of manipulator or the one being manipulated. Attachments were leverage, giving someone a hook they were able to dig their claws into in order to gain ground. Isolating himself from connecting with others was how he had survived.

And yet, as he watched Eli drift back into sleep, his eyes found her hand resting near her pillow. A longing came over him and, carefully, he reached out tentative and slow until his fingers brushed gently against her own, quietly connecting. Questioning.

Eli’s eyes opened, sleepy but curious. She watched his fingers lightly caressing her own, and with a small smile took his hand and tenderly wove her fingers in between his. Moments like this, made up of soft touches and careful affections, were becoming more common between them. And the intimacy of these moments never ceased to fascinate Astarion.

To Astarion, intimacy had always involved passion and lust. It was created in the pressed spaces between fervent bodies as they worked one another towards ecstasy. It was fleeting and vanished just as quickly as it emerged.

This, however…this was different. This was calm and soothing, and it lingered almost like a promise. Always available to be restoked and explored.   

“I…” Astarion began, hesitating for only a second before he steeled himself and pressed on. “I dreamed I was back at the mansion. Back under Cazador’s control.” The name was spoken on the edge of a growl, his red eyes fixed on their joined hands.

He paused, thinking through what to say next, and Eli allowed him the silence to collect his thoughts and continue. “He mocked me,” Astarion spat. “Saying that all this was an illusion. That I hadn’t escaped. That you were an illusion.”

He glanced cautiously to her face, and when his eyes met hers, he found understanding there.

“Well, you came to the right tent,” Eli smiled, voice playful though not dismissive. “I’m something of an expert on nightmares. We can even compare notes, if you like.”

She squeezed his hand lightly and repeated his words from the night when he’d kept vigil over her as she fought against the dark madness within herself. It was unexpectedly touching and Astarion felt something twist where his dead heart was.

“As for whether or not I’m an illusion,” Eli said as she propped herself up on her elbows, slinking closer to him, eyes locked in to his own. “We can thoroughly investigate that claim, if you’d like,” she whispered, a sly question lingering in her gaze.

Astarion smirked, rising and leaning in to close the space between them. He untangled his fingers from her own and placed his hands on her shoulders, fulling intending to roll her to her back and ravish her while she squirmed beneath him. Astarion had come to Eli’s tent with no expectations beyond wanting her close, but he certainly wasn’t about to turn down the opportunity to get even closer. They were good together. Really. Fucking. Good. And already desire was clouding over his mind as he bent to capture her mouth with his own. He had tasted her many times before, and yet every time they came together after a prolonged absence it felt fresh and raw. Rejuvenating and wild.

In all of his time as a thrall to his master, Astarion had never bedded the same person twice. Every night was a new conquest, new prey for him to stalk and tease until he’d gathered just enough information to get him through the evening and to get his target back to the mansion. The encounters always played out very tactically on his end as he gathered just enough surface-level drivel to ensure his quarry was seduced into the trap. Once Cazador came for his prize, Astarion would never see the poor wretches again, and that was fine by him.

With Eli, though, it was so different. There had been nothing tactical about any of it after that first night, and even during. The ecstasy of freedom, of choosing to give of himself rather than being forced, was intoxicating. They would explore one another, finding comfort in both familiarity and discovery, honing in on the things that drove the other mad and had them coming undone in the throes of rapture. They were becoming known to one another, intimately and completely. Perfecting and exploring and discovering every time they were together.

It was both enthralling and terrifying, being known like that. Being laid bare as Eli unraveled him just a bit further every time, uncovering parts of himself that had been left dormant and untouched for so long.

The anticipation of it all was already causing a firm swell to build below the waistline of his trousers as he pressed into the kiss. His tongue darted and teased at her lips, gently prodding between them and beckoning her closer. One of his hands had slipped to the small of her back as the other pressed into her shoulder, gently guiding her so that he could tuck Eli below him and crawl on top.

Eli, however, seemed to have other plans in mind and resisted his direction, pushing back into him and maneuvering the both of them until he was on his back with her legs straddling his waist. She never broke the kiss, rocking forward on her knees as she took his hand from her back and pinned it to the ground above his head, her fingers lacing in between his own. He growled into the kiss and playfully ghosted a fang over her bottom lip, causing her to hum needfully into his mouth.

And then her lips were gone, leaving only the hot impression of longing against his own as Eli trailed her lips from the corner of his mouth to the shell of his ear. Her breath was tantalizingly warm, brushing against the sensitive skin there, causing a shiver to course down his spine before it pulsated up into his firming dick. His free hand came to rest on her hip and he fingered mindlessly at the hem of her pants. He wanted her to sit back onto his groin so he could roll his hips up into her and rut his straining cock in between her legs. Hells, he wanted to be free of their clothes so he could sheathe himself inside her warmth and watch her ride him while he speared her over and over as she screamed his name until her throat was raw.

But then all thoughts and wants were lost to a white hot flash in his mind as Eli bit down on the tip of his ear, careful not to break skin but sharp enough to fire lightning off into his veins. His hips snapped up, needing to feel her as his cock throbbed. His left hand was still pinned above his head by one of hers, and he felt his nails digging at the skin of her knuckles while his right hand desperately tried to pull her hips down against him. He choked off a whine in the back of his throat and closed his eyes as his head rolled back against the ground.

She laughed breathily into his ear, and oh gods it was undoing him already. This was dangerous. She’d been paying attention, noting all the things that set him off and applying them expertly until she had him writhing. It was a wholly new experience for him and beneath his fervor and lust was a seed of trepidation.

When it came to sex, there had always been two ways the experience would play out. Either he would maintain control over the situation, or he would disassociate as his various partners had their way and used him to their satisfaction.     

But this. This was new. And while it wasn’t unwelcome, the fact that she’d worked him into this position so easily was setting off alarm bells in the back of his mind. He felt exposed. Vulnerable. He hadn’t realized how freely he’d given of himself these past few weeks, how far he’d let her explore and how attentively she’d done so.

How known he truly was.

And then she was letting go of his hand while her lips returned to his own, pressing soft and affectionate kisses into them. She carded a hand into his hair, careful to avoid his ear which was still tingling and overstimulated. He felt a shudder of both relief and disappointment roll through his body as the high passed, missing the sensuality and hunger of it all while relaxing into a more settled state of mind.

Astarion’s eyes were still closed, and the throbbing in his dick had not subsided. He felt her breath back at his ear, though not as close as it had been earlier.

“I just want to make you feel good,” he heard her whisper, sending sparks back through his veins. “Show me how.”

His eyes fluttered open to find hers gazing back at him, sweet and attentive. He felt her fingers twining through his hair and sighed contently, a small smile on his lips.

“You’ve been doing a magnificent job so far, darling,” he crooned before pulling her back down into another wanting kiss.

He smoothed his hands along her sides, repositioning her atop him until she was flush against him. He ran one hand down her spine, firm and slow, while the other gripped the back of her head, encouraging her to melt into him as their tongues explored each other’s mouths and their bodies squirmed, searching for friction. The hand at her back moved to squeeze her ass before he pressed her down against him, desperate for pressure against his groin.    

“My only critique so far is there are entirely too many clothes between us,” he breathed against her lips. The hand on her ass gripped tight as he pressed and rubbed his thick erection into her hips, driving the point home.

“Allow me to remedy that,” Eli said with a quick kiss.

And then she was gone, hiking his shirt up and licking warm and wet kisses down his belly towards his waistline. Her hands were undoing the fastenings of his trousers and his head was beginning to spin with the implication.

That wasn’t… She didn’t have to…

He felt Eli slip her hands beneath his smallclothes and tug, pulling both his trousers and underwear down until his erection was free. He sighed from the relief, feeling the fullness bob and twitch expectantly. Eli was dragging her tongue down from his bellybutton towards his aching cock and fuck…he couldn’t remember the last time someone had offered to do this for him.

His hand was in her hair, then, tugging gently for her to look up at him.

“That’s not what I was implying, my dear. You don’t have to…” Astarion’s protests trailed off when Eli’s eyes met his, full of lust and playful longing.

He’d sounded almost sheepish, even a bit apologetic, as a sting of guilt wormed its way into his gut. Astarion should be the one giving pleasure, that was how these things always went. That was what he was good at…what his master had made him for…

The thought struck out at him unbidden with a nasty sense of shock and disgust. Cazador had created him for the pleasure of others, taking every opportunity to viciously remind him that what he wanted and how he felt never mattered. It was a belief that had been bolted to his soul after decades of torment, and one it seemed he still carried, even when he wasn’t in his master’s grasp.

“Astarion,” Eli said, softly pulling him out of his spiraling.

He blinked and refocused on her as she pressed her lips gently against the taunt skin over his hip bone, drawing an eager hiss from between his teeth as his dick jerked. Images of her mouth around him, warm and so godsdamn wet and tight, were firing off in his brain and…fucking hells, when had he fallen so completely for her?

“Right now, in this moment, nothing would make me happier than to get you down my throat and thoroughly satisfy you.” Eli smirked at him, hands on his bare thighs and lips a mere breath away from his cock, red and full and beginning to leak.

Her eyes were glittering with a mischief that was intoxicating, but there was affection there, too, soothing and comforting. He shivered, furiously trying to shut his brain down as thoughts collided in explosions of need, guilt and desire.

He’d thought himself so smart, charming and seducing her into his bed. Laying a trap and then walking her into it with such confidence and glee, only for him to find himself just as ensnared. He’d used her, manipulated her, and then drowned himself in her and gods above, if he didn’t want to do it again and again.

“But if that’s not what you want…” He stiffened at Eli’s words, catching the undercurrent of concern in her voice as she shifted and began to move back up his body.

He stopped her, sliding his hand from out of her hair to cup her cheek while he brushed a few silvery strands from her eyes with the other. Now was decidedly not the time for him to have an internal crisis of feelings. Not in the middle of the night with his dick out, pants halfway down his legs and Eli saying such obscene and beautiful things to him. There’d be time for personal reflection later.

He wanted this. Wanted her.

“I want it.” He almost felt embarrassed at the raw desire that slipped through his voice, heavy and breathy. “Gods, you have no fucking idea how much…”

He stopped himself before he could elaborate more and completely mortify himself.

“It’s just been a long time since anyone offered,” he concluded. He wouldn’t admit he couldn’t remember the last time someone had pleasured him like that.

Eli considered him for a moment, expression thoughtful, and for a brief moment of panic Astarion wondered if she had changed her mind. About him and about all of this. But then her lips twitched up into a tender smile and he felt his soul shudder.

“Please.” Astarion breathed.

Eli ghosted a few featherlight kisses near the base of his cock before whispering, “Well, when you ask so sweetly…”

And then her mouth was on him and Astarion’s head rolled back as he made a noise he was entirely too obliterated to be ashamed of.

She took only the tip at first, sucking down onto the head as her lips slid back and forth over the swollen ridge. Her pace was slow, and it was both agonizing and exhilarating. His thighs clenched as a heavy pressure throbbed deep in his groin, sending shivers and tingles spasming out through his legs and up into his belly. His hand was back in her hair, grabbing and encouraging, careful to not be forceful, while his other hand fisted the bedroll.

He both heard and felt Eli laugh low in her throat, the vibrations of it tingling down his shaft and setting his nerves on fire. He’d managed to kick his trousers off, spreading his legs apart so she could nestle between them and absolutely destroy him.

Eli began sucking him down further, slowly sheathing himself into her mouth. He shut his eyes, growling as her warmth and spit enveloped him. He responded by hitching his hips up into her, wanting more, wanting her full of him. He felt her hands on his hips, directing him to rock up into her mouth at a languid pace. He fell into the rhythm, fucking into the suction. She flattened her tongue, applying pressure along his shaft every time he thrusted in before dragging her tongue tip along the sensitive skin when he pulled out.

The growl in his throat grew into a lewd moan that shamelessly filled the tent, leaving no one who was awake in camp to wonder about what was taking place. He could not have cared any less about who heard, and in fact he welcomed it. Let them all listen as Eli, savior of the Druid’s Grove, conqueror of Grymforge and scourge of the Absolute went down on him and fucked him senseless with her perfect fucking mouth. He was the only one she’d do this to, the only one she’d pleasure. No one else got to experience this, see her like this.

He was hers.

The thought set off a wave of arousal so potent that he felt his cock spasm in response, leaking precum that Eli’s tongue then swirled across his tip as he continued to rut into her. The pressure between his legs was mounting as a possessive and greedy emotion seized him.

“Darling…oh gods, darling, not yet…” Astarion wasn’t going to last like this, but he was not ready to be undone. Not yet.

He opened his lust-blown eyes and a feral groan tumbled out of him at the sight of Eli between his legs, sweaty and fervent and his. Leaning forward, he cupped her chin and encouraged her off his dick. Her eyes met his and the mixture of arousal and craving in her dilated pupils slammed into him so hard his chest hitched.

Nobody looked at him like that. Ever.

He needed more.  

Wordlessly, he pulled her up to him and their mouths crashed together in a wild and wanton kiss that was all tongues and teeth. He could taste himself on her, salty and pungent and it drove him mad.

They only separated for a moment as Astarion pulled Eli’s shirt up and over her head before removing his own. Then, they were tumbling back onto the bedroll, Astarion still pinned beneath Eli as their hands greedily explored one another.

He began fumbling with the buttons of Eli’s pants, the last barrier between them, and licked into her mouth as she moaned desperately into their bruising kiss. She was writhing on top of him, bent over him and straddling his bare torso as her hips rolled against him shamelessly. Undoing the buttons, he slipped his hand beneath her underwear and ran a teasing finger between the lips of her swollen clit.

Eli whined and gasped as his touch and Astarion laughed with wicked mirth, gliding his finger back and forth between her wet folds but never going deeper. She was soaked, worked up into a frenzy and it emboldened his ego to no end.

“I didn’t realize sucking on my cock could make you so wet,” he purred with no small amount of self-satisfaction.

His finger traced a circle along the rim of her pulsating clit, earning a high-pitched moan that shuddered out of her throat and went straight to his dick. She tried to reposition herself, needing his fingers in places they weren’t.

He grinned at her distress, earning a reproachful bite to his lower lip that did nothing to dissuade him.

“Less working your mouth and more working you – oh fuck!” Eli cried out as Astarion pushed two fingers up into her, burring them deep.

She bolted upright, arching her back as her mouth fell open and her head fell back, a slew of profane and needful curses tearing from her throat. He felt her clamp down on his fingers, hands pressing on his chest for balance as she brazenly rode his fingers.

He gazed up at her as his fingers stroked and hooked at her throbbing walls, causing little twitches and spasms to filter throughout her body. Her skin glistened in the foggy moonlight that seeped in through the walls of the tent, sweat-slicked breasts bouncing with each thrust of her hips as her head lolled, eyes shut reverently as she worked to satisfy herself. His dick bobbed against his belly with each roll of her hips, and he could feel a warm trail of precum rolling down the edge of his hip. His erection was so stiff it verged on painful, and when he felt her walls begin to flutter around his fingers, he knew he couldn’t wait any longer.

He pulled his hand back from within her core and the gasping whine that erupted from her lips nearly choked him.

“I’m sorry, my sweet,” he crooned, wrapping an arm around her back as he braced himself with the other and sat up. “Bear with me for just a moment. I dare not make you wait any longer.”

Astarion tipped her back and laid her down, yanking both her pants and underclothes off in a swift motion. He settled his hips between her legs, the head of his cock pressing agonizingly at her entrance.

He hovered above her for a moment, drinking her in. She was a gorgeous mess, eyes blown wide with craving and skin flushed hot and pink. Her chest was heaving as she gazed up at him with a look that would have stopped his heart if it weren’t already still. Adoration beamed back at him as she smiled and Astarion felt a twisting deep in his chest.

He knew then, with absolute certainty, that whatever was between them was so much more than anything he had planned for it to be. It terrified and amazed him. Welling up emotions within himself he wasn’t sure how to grasp or understand. He didn’t want to hide from it, though. He’d been hiding and skulking and manipulating for too long.

He wanted something more. Something real.

Astarion bent down, kissing Eli deep and longingly. Hoping that even just a shred of what he felt could be communicated through the embrace. She sighed into it, eyes closing and hands carding into his hair before they slid down to his back. He shivered as her fingers traced tenderly over the scars there, careful and deferential.

Breaking the kiss, he hooked an arm under her left leg and rested it up on his shoulder, pressing it forward and stretching her apart. Lining himself up to her warm core, he rested his forehead against her own and felt her squirm impatiently beneath him.

“Fuck, Astarion, please.”

That was all it took. He pushed inside of her, body shuddering at the enveloping and soft warmth. He felt his abdomen clench, waves of arousal rocketing down his legs and up his spine as he sank into her to the hilt. Astarion groaned, pulling back before he buried himself again, then again, then again. Eli gasped with each thrust, arching her back and angling her hips for a better position. The leg he’d pulled over his shoulder tensed and squeezed, pressing down on him as he snapped his hips up and into her. A low growl rose up, unbidden, from his throat. He was throbbing and needy and she felt so fucking good. Warm, wet and tight as he pressed into her walls and felt her contract around him. Their eyes were locked in and a rapturous shudder ran the length of his spine as Eli’s face contorted in ecstasy, her mouth opening in a silent and delirious cry.

He pulled back again. Her eyes were begging. Another thrust, making her back arch up as she bucked her hips into him, needing him deeper.

He was entranced with her face and the raw longing he saw there. He plunged in again, drawing a high squeal from her that turned into a breathy rasp as she closed around him and shook against his body. Her eyes never left his, and he drank in every mewl and cry as she looked at him with so much affection and craving that Astarion was tempted to duck his head and hide from the level of vulnerability she was giving him.

But he didn’t. Couldn’t. No one else got to see this. No one else would see Eli – hero, warrior, leader, fledgling legend that she was – shivering and squirming underneath him as he pumped into her. This was all for him, and him alone.

She was falling apart, losing herself in the thrill and the ecstasy, every sob for more spurring him on as he stared into her enthralled eyes. Her hands were everywhere, desperately running up and down and all over, clutching and pulling him closer while she pushed at the small of his back, directing his thrusting pace into one she could match with euphoria-inducing turns and twists of her hips.

The wild and undone look in her eyes coupled with the unrelenting throbbing of his cock was near enough to drive him mad. Electric jolts shot down his legs from his groin with every plunge, and his muscles felt as if they would seize at any second. It felt amazing. She felt amazing, and gods she was looking at him like he was the gravitational pull of the universe. It tore at his seams and pulled a centuries-old ache from his dead heart.

He wanted to be someone to her. Someone important. Someone she needed.

It was agonizing and frightening, that feeling. The last time he’d even remotely felt anything near to it, he’d been locked away and isolated in a coffin for over a year. Punishment for such sentimental wretchedness.

Astarion grit his teeth, clawing his way back from the memory and pushing it all down. Those were things left for later. Not now. Not when Eli was crying out and babbling about how incredible he felt, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him down for a kiss that he swore was going to set him on fire.

The pressure was building between his legs again as every muscle below his chest began to tense. His mind fixated on the lewd and wetly rhythmic sounds coming from between them and he could feel her slick arousal all over his groin and lower torso. His mind began fuzzing, triggered by all the erotic sounds and the building stimulation threatening to explode in his core.

He wanted this. He wanted to feel her cum beneath him. He wanted to feel himself truly and completely let go for the first time in centuries.

He pulled back from their kiss, the hair on his neck pricking in response to the small whine that left Eli’s throat as he did so.

He continued to pound into her, hard and measured, dick pulsating inside of her as the buildup became nearly unbearable. Beyond the pounding of blood in his ears he could hear himself grunting with each thrust, deep and animalistic and so fucking needy as the delirium mounted all around them.

Astarion leveled his eyes with Eli’s, face hovering above hers, and smiled at the unabated and desperate look she was giving him.

“Do you really want me that badly, darling?” he asked, panting and nearly out of his mind with wonder at the sheer amount of desire coursing between them.

There was no teasing in his question, no flirtatious overtones or hidden meanings. He needed to know.

“Yes,” she breathed, and the world narrowed.

“Gods, Astarion, I want all of you,” Eli nearly cried, arms tightening around him as she came near to climax. “Not just this,” she moaned, pressing her face into his neck as her back arched off the ground. She was shaking she was so close.

“I want you with me,” she whined into his ear and the desperation in her words was intoxicating. “In all the ways that matter,” she continued, her voice raw and teetering on the edge of bliss. “…with me. Please!”

Astarion clung to her like a man drowning, eyes closed and face pressed into her hair. The scent of her was everywhere and he reveled in the frantic intimacy of the moment, blindly grabbing at her upturned hips and bottoming out into her with a force that sent lightning zipping through his veins and stars bursting behind his eyelids.

The pressure between his legs released and Astarion came with all the subtlety of a smokepowder barrel blowing alight, all the muscles in his legs and lower torso seizing and relaxing in bursts.

“Gods, Eli. Fuck!” he cried out against her, swept up in the climax as the world fell away.

Eli followed, her inner walls contracting around him, bolstering his orgasm as she shuddered and cried out for him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and squeezed tight, wanting him full and solid as she came with him inside.

Astarion moved his hips in a circular motion, gentle and sensual, letting Eli ride out the last of her orgasm as the both of them came down. They were a tangle of arms, legs, sweat and ragged breath, neither willing to let go of the other as a hush fell over the tent. They rested in the quiet, laying in each other’s arms, content in the intimate sense of togetherness. He could feel her racing heart beat beneath her skin as he rested his head under her chin, her pulse lulling him into a comfortable daze. The scent of the blood in her veins was hot and sweet and he reveled in the thrum of life that surrounded her. A life he was growing more and more attached to…

Suddenly, Eli snorted and Astarion’s eyes snapped open curiously. He lifted his head and quirked a brow down at her as she tried and failed to suppress a fit of giggling. He tensed, unsure and more than a little confused by her bizarre response to what he thought had been a rather exhilarating experience.

She squeezed his bicep reassuringly, a delighted grin settling on her face.

“Sorry,” she laughed quietly. “I was just thinking, there’s no way anyone in this camp is still sleeping. We’re going to have to apologize in the morning.”

Astarion’s eyes softened as the corner of his mouth twitched up fondly. He then made a show of rolling his eyes before he buried his face back into her neck.

“You are quite mad, aren’t you?” he mumbled, unable to keep a smile out of his words. “I’ll go to my second grave before I apologize for what we just did.”

_______________________________

The sounds of muffled shuffling outside the tent woke Astarion the next morning. He tracked the sound with his ears, unwilling to open his eyes and rouse himself from his sleepy haze.

Eli lay pressed up against him in his arms, her head nestled near his chest. He’d pulled a blanket over them at some point during the night in an effort to retain the warmth coming off her body. Considering his undead nature, he could only sap her body heat from her, rather than contribute to it, and that fact bothered him a bit more now than it had in the past.

He traced a finger lazily across her back, feeling the ridges and divots of multiple angry scars she had no memory of earning. Eli’s body was a war story, just as damaged as her broken mind with twisted scarring and gnarled blemishes that held their secrets close. They were the remnants of a brutality that was difficult to reconcile with the person he’d come to know Eli as, and it made her all the more beautiful for it.

He didn’t mind her brokenness, and he was comforted by her imperfection. He knew all to well what it was like to be torn open over and over…

The clang of a cookpot being hoisted over the camp’s fire caused him to flinch, and Eli stirred, yawning into his bare chest.

Astarion opened his eyes, blinking as they focused in the gloom. Early morning shadows crept along the walls of the tent and he could now hear Gale’s distinct and nervous muttering as the wizard went about his morning routine, preparing coffee and some manner of breakfast near the center campfire. There was another voice, too, hushed and careful, as if the speaker didn’t want to be overhead.

“Oh, would you two stop squawking like a pair of gossipy hens!” Karlach’s voice boomed out over the hushed muttering, both scolding and amused in tone. “You both are just jealous it wasn’t either of you causing that racket last night. Hells knows I am,” she bemoaned.

“Is that what Gale and Wyll are prattling on about?” Lae’zel’s voice barked from over near her tent. “Sex can provide excellent relief from the stresses of our chaotic situation. It is both a healthy and helpful activity, though I am assuming neither of you have much familiarity with its benefits considering how you chatter like scandalized adolescents.”  

Eli cut off a laugh in the back of her throat and Astarion smirked.

Gale and Wyll had begun to boisterously protest before Karlach interrupted, clearly directing her next statement in the direction of Eli’s tent.

“They might as well get out here so we can properly taunt them for not inviting any of us!”     

Eli rolled onto her back then sat up, shrugging the blanket off and arching her spine in a fluid stretch, arms raised. Wordlessly, she then bent down, kissing him with a tenderness that made his chest ache, before she leaned away and stood, beginning to dress.

“Sorry, Karlach, but I draw the line at superheated engine that could melt my face off and angry unstable bomb that could level a small city when considering who I sleep with.” Eli pulled her shirt over her head and turned to wink at him before she unfastened the tent flap and stepped out into camp.

Karlach’s boisterous laughter greeted her and Astarion frowned as the tent flap fell back into place, leaving him alone with thoughts he needed to sort through.

Denial wasn’t going to work any longer. And gods, was he in trouble.

[theladyismyshepard]

For Valentines Day could I request hc for how halsin and Astarion would react to their shared lover surprising them with new lingerie?

Of course you can, anon, and I thank you for such a racy prompt

Astarion x Halsin x Reader (M/M/F)

NSFW, MDNI below cut

Three's Company, and I'm Afraid I'm Underdressed

(How Astarion and Halsin Would React to You in Lingerie)

You were a certified genius. That was all you could think after you stepped out of Facemaker’s Boutique in Baldur’s Gate with your coin purse considerably lighter. None had been the wiser when you began stuffing a lacy corset into your travel pack. Weeks of trekking through the swamps and the Underdark had left you grimy and less than seductive when it came to romancing Halsin and Astarion.

Halsin… my good man, no my good boy… The druid was a simple man who loved nature and especially the dirt that came with it. He found the dust from the roads that clung to your skin and your clothes to be the most beautiful thing in the world. The smile that slowly pulled at the edges of your mouth when you thought of how sweet Halsin was could never be helped. He was a natural smooth talker, speaking almost as if he was telling you nothing but truths and common sense when he complimented you or Astarion.

You could feel your mirrored appreciation through your connection with the vampire. Astarion originally would downplay how much he approved of Halsin’s bold declarations before the druid’s chivalry filed down the barbed-wire ensnaring the vampire’s bittered, blackened heart. And almost as if determined to clear out the shadows of Astarion’s heart just as he intended with the Shadowfell, he broke down walls that had been fortified for centuries.

Astarion had a voice like honey himself and all of the flare to go with it. His playful flirting always danced along the edge of actual seduction, and it always kept you on your toes. Halsin hadn’t always been too keen on joking, especially the dark humor that the vampire had perfected, but as the snarky facade began to crack and glimmers of a broken man could be seen peering through, Halsin was finally beginning to see what you did in Astarion.

The grand display of their love flourishing had your heart swelling happily in your chest. These two men had nothing but time ahead of them and it thrilled you to know that when you withered away with age decades from now, the two would offer each other support. But until that moment came, and while you could still claim to possess an ass that won’t quit, you would show your lovers the perks of having you involved in their love affair.

It was the perfect night. The stars were shining bright, the air was calm, and the aftertaste of victory was still sweet on your tongue. The party had dispersed almost immediately following the battle of the Netherbrain, and while initially it left you feeling hollow, the privacy sure proved useful for moments such as what you had planned. As you approached Astarion and Halsin, who were both lounging back against a log and chatting by the fire, your hands were wringing the drawstring of your robe.

They both looked up at the same time and you chuckled at how cute they were. Of course Halsin’s connection to nature helped him in sensing the change of your presence just as quick as Astarion’s enhanced hearing. The vampire arched a brow while the druid cocked his head when he noticed your robe-clad body. Your chest expanded as you took a deep breath, and you held it as you dropped the cloth from your shoulders and down your arms to pool at your feet.

The lingerie hugged your body like a second skin and the lacy fabric left no room for imagination as it practically left you bare before your lovers. Astarion’s eyes widened while slowly looking you up and down. When they returned to meet yours, his confident smirk was back in place as he attempted to convey with his eyes alone just how hungry he had become. He was a man of fashion, darling, and he greatly treasured when you put in the same effort as he did. As he shifted his upper body in your direction with his gaze piercing straight into your soul, his elbow propped up on the log as his pointer finger pressed against his temple, his thumb supported his chin, and his remaining fingers were semi-curled and resting over his lips. The tadpole’s connection between you two had vanished the moment the Netherbrain fell, but you’d swear you could practically feel his arousal as if it were your own.

Halsin drank in the sight of your semi-naked body as if it were a cold drink of water on the hottest day of the year. Initially, you were unsure if the Druid would be as affected as you’d like. He had let you know early on that he found you most alluring when you had nothing obscuring his vision…. But his entranced smile as he fully sat up to look at you around Astarion was a promise enough of what would be to come (or who). You were trapped beneath the weight of both of these men’s heavy gazes.

“Don’t you look positively delectable,” Astarion drawled almost predatorily as he motioned with his other hand for you to come closer, “I could eat you right up… And I think I just might,”

“Only if you save some for me,” Halsin chimed in, and you could see his muscles twitching with the urge to pounce, but he remained in his spot beside Astarion, but on edge with anticipation.

Certified genius.

It was a brief thought that was gone as quick as it came once you reached Astarion and he lifted both his hands to grab ahold of yours and guide you down onto his lap. You gasped and couldn’t stop yourself from grinding down when you rubbed against his semi-hard dick. It felt like electricity shot down your spine as heat pooled in the pit of your stomach when you felt his hips pump up to meet you. You both groaned in unison, and while you could have easily allowed your eyes to roll back and just relish in the growing wetness between your thighs, there was another hand that began rubbing circles between your shoulders.

Halsin’s breathing had quickened and he was leaning in closer than when you last glanced in his direction. His lips were parted as he shakily exhaled, his hands continuing to massage circles into not only your skin, but he was running his fingertips up and down Astarion’s back as well. You didn’t even think, it was instinct to lean forward and capture the druid’s lips in a kiss. It wasn’t long before his tongue was licking across your bottom lip, wordlessly asking for entrance. He was a dominating lover, and it was evident in the way his tongue fought for control.

Hands that were previously gripping your waist were now running teasingly up your sides. You felt goosebumps flaring beneath the fabric of the lingerie. Astarion’s hips continued a calm, steady thrusting as his hands explored up your sides, across your hips, and gathered handfuls of your rear. Your flesh was ablaze with each touch. As the vampire’s erection grew harder against your clothed center, you felt the moan bubble in your throat before it interrupted your kiss with Halsin. The druid’s lips kissed down your cheek to a spot right below your ear. You felt Halsin’s hand meet Astarion’s on your back before the weight of his touch disappeared and you knew his hand was running up Astarion’s arm that was wound around your body.

Halsin pulled back and looked over at Astarion, whose gaze shifted to the druid in return. It was a challenging arch of the brow that spurred Halsin forward in claiming the vampire’s lips in a searing kiss. Astarion’s head was tilted back with one of Halsin’s hands supporting the back of his head as their tongues explored the other’s mouth. You shivered in arousal, practically feeling your nipples fighting against the restraint of the lingerie before you ran your hands over Astarion’s chest. You leaned forward and started placing open-mouthed kisses along Halsin’s broad shoulder and down his chest. You growled at the clothing between your hands, mouth, and their bodies. You pulled back, and they both broke the kiss to look at you.

“Clothes, off, now,”

“How expensive was-”

Before Astarion could even finish his question, Halsin was tearing the lacy cloth from your body to get to the prize underneath. You weren’t even surprised. Astarion merely shrugged before pulling his shirt off, and Halsin stood as he fully undressed himself. The moment his underwear was pulled down his legs and his cock sprung to life just a foot away from your face, you could’ve sworn you started salivating. Astarion must have had the same thought because he was staring wide-eyed at his dick and licked his lips before glancing up at his face.

An idea sparked in your mind and you looked up at Halsin before turning back to Astarion. You placed your hands over his bare chest, your fingers splaying out and your pinky finger grazed over his nipple. The vampire inhaled sharply, neck snapping back to face you. You pull him into an open-mouthed kiss that lasted a moment before pulling back and looking him straight in the eye.

“Suck Halsin’s dick,” You command, and Astarion’s shock flashed over his face a moment before his mouth twisted into a devilish grin.

“It would be my pleasure,” he cooed before he gently grabbed the back of Halsin’s thigh and pulled him close enough to flatten his tongue against the tip of his cock, flicking it before licking a swirl around the head.

Halsin sucked in a breath between his teeth at the sudden wet heat. You were throbbing between your legs at the sight, and you could feel a renewed wetness slicking your lower lips. Your eyes never cut away even as your hands worked at Astarion’s belt. It was a familiar movement that was reflex now, and it wasn’t long before the vampire’s dick was in your hand, pumping it to full length. Astarion moaned around Halsin’s dick and as a result, the druid released his own groan. You continued to stroke Astarion with one hand, and your other lifted to Halsin’s hip bone next to Astarion’s fair hair, and caressed the skin there and up his stomach and back again, watching as the muscles of his stomach flexed.

Astarion’s hand on the back of Halsin’s thigh lightened to his fingertips as he drew them higher and higher until he grabbed a handful of his cheek. Halsin jolted forward and further down Astarion’s throat, prompting the vampire to gag a bit before bobbing his back and forth, allowing his tongue to graze the underside of his dick. Your thumb rubbed a circle on the tip of Astarion’s dick before it traced a vein that traveled the length of it, and just when you felt a clear wetness ooze from the tip, you released your grip to raise yourself to your knees long enough to line him up with your center before you slowly sunk your full weight onto his dick. Astarion sputtered around Halsin’s dick, pulling back to gasp and arch his back into you.

Halsin’s cock glistened with Astarion’s spit as it stood at attention, and who was you to deny it? You leaned forward to take Halsin into your mouth and continue where the vampire had left off. With both of your hands free, your right one lightly trailed up his stomach as far as you could reach, and your left wound behind him and grabbed the same cheek that Astarion had. Halsin’s head fell back, allowing him to gaze up into the endless sea of stars. It felt as though he was flying, but the wet heat of your mouth kept him grounded. You hollowed your cheeks briefly before a gasp gave you a pause around Halsin.

Astarion’s dick was still buried inside of you, and he had regained some of his composure. He was jogging his hips, and you felt him stretching you out as he went deeper and deeper. Given how wet you were, there was hardly much resistance and he soon bottomed out. He halted to familiarize both your bodies to the stretch, and as he paused, he surged forward to take your nipple into his mouth. Your back arched to get closer to him, but one of his hands was already around your back, keeping you tight against his body. A larger hand was suddenly cupping the base of your neck, and you pulled off of Halsin to glance up at him.

The druid gave you a warm smile before he bowed over to meet your lips with his. He licked away the moisture on your lips before following it with several quick pecks. As he righted himself, Astarion reached forward with his free hand and grabbed his length to start pumping it. You were entranced by the sight before pleasure sent fire coursing through your veins, and you began grinding down to match Astarion’s thrusts up into you. Your eyes briefly fluttered shut as you rode his dick, but they snapped open when you felt Halsin slightly squeeze the back of your neck to get your attention. The head of his cock was plump and looked about ready to burst. Your lips parted a ‘oh’ at the sight as well as the pressure building quickly in your gut from the suckling at your nipples. Astarion was stroking Halsin faster and you were captivated by the sight of the head disappearing and reappearing in the fist as he pumped.

Astarion kissed up your chest and sank his teeth into the flesh connecting your shoulder and neck. You moaned loudly as you teetered on the edge, but you were sure to keep your mouth wide open. You stuck your tongue out all while staring Halsin in the eye, and let the head of his cock rest against it as you waited for him to shoot his load. The sight, along with the feel of your wet tongue coupled with Astarion’s quick jerking, had Halsin spilling into your mouth as he came. You lapped it up eagerly, and licked the head clean as his fingers combed through your hair.

The teeth in your neck released and the sting was soothed by a broad stroke of the vampire’s tongue. He followed it with a kiss and trailed them up your neck, past your chin, and connected your lips as he used the hand on the small of your back as leverage for a few more quick thrusts before your walls were fluttering around his member and your back was arching as you fell over the edge. As your orgasm rolled through you, you became deathly still before snapping and your erratic grinding had Astarion pulling you off his dick just as he shot his load across your clit.

Your thighs were sore and your body felt limp as you fell against Astarion, who immediately caught you and brought you closer. Halsin’s hand was back to brushing your hair back, and as you cuddled into the vampire’s neck, you felt his head crane back to meet Halsin in a brief kiss.

Oh yeah… certified genius.

[jynxeddraca]

Hi yes, more Baldur's Gate brainrot. Sorry not sorry.

First of all look at my Tav:

She's adorable yes?

So fun fact I did not at all realize that 'Tav' is the default name given to all custom origin characters. I thought it was randomized and liked it so I kept it. So meet Tav Moonridge y'all!

Tav is a tiefling bard who grew up in the Outer City of Baldur's Gate, lives in the Lower City, basically raised her sister - Temerity Moonridge, and is currently 'on an adventure' that she really didn't want to be on and desperately wants to get back to her sister. I am also picturing her as like 5'2"/157 cm and often described as "willowy" or "reedy".

And now head canons of Tav interacting with the other characters. There are some spoiler-y things ahead.

No one has any idea how or why she ended up leading them, not even Tav. Tav is constantly baffled why anyone listens to her, but accepts it if it means she can talk everyone out of killing each other.

Tav broke Astarion's nose when they met via headbutting him in the face.

Karlach and Tav gossip in Infernal at camp. They never use anyone's names while doing so, but Astarion has a suspicion about which phrase might refer to him. Spoiler, it's Infernal for 'pretty boy' and it absolutely is referring to him.

Tav is a flirt when she's been drinking and kissed Shadowheart (during her first romance scene) and felt awful about it the next morning.

When they found the hat that is located near Alfira, Gale was able to tell it was enchanted but not really sure how. Tav laid claim on it and wears it at night to cover her eyes when she doesn't want Gale to bother her because he doesn't really get social cues and she doesn't want to hurt his feelings by just telling him to leave her alone for a bit. Gale thinks she's doing it because she had a headache or is about to go to bed.

Tav winds down in the evening by using her long tiefling talons nails to essentially fingering out tunes on her lute, without actually plucking the strings, and quietly humming along. She often does this leaning back against a stump or a rock with her eyes closed. She hasn't noticed that the camp tends to get quieter around this time because everyone likes to hear the humming - even if they refuse to admit it. She sometimes does this while wearing the hat.

When Astarion accidentally reveals he's a vampire and Tav ends up offering her neck to him - he ends up concluding that Tav has zero survival instincts. She also jabbed him in the armpit with her thumbnail to keep him from making her a corpse.

Tav fully is aware Astarion's flirting and seducing is him using her - but she thinks he's using sex as a way to secure blood from her willingly rather than his actual plan.

Lae'zel, after having to save Tav's ass one too many times, teaches Tav how to use a sword. Wyll helps out. Everyone learns that Tav is not good with blades and she is informed that she is to stick near Astarion and snipe using her crossbow.

Halsin can pick Tav up one handed and has done so to keep her from rushing into potential trouble without a plan. Tav deeply dislikes when he does this and Shadowheart has compared her acidic looks to him to a disgruntled cat. Karlach calls this 'air jail'.

Karlach will also put Tav in 'air jail' from time to time after her heart gets fixed. Astarion nearly doubled over laughing at Tav's betrayed expression when it first happened.

Astarion constantly thinks Tav has some ulterior motive for letting him drink her blood that she is really good at hiding. He eventually begrudgingly accepts that she doesn't.

[ladyduellist]

BG3 TAG GAME ✨⚔️

This one looks like a lot of fun! Thanks to my lovely friend @verbenaa for thinking of me!

Favorite romance: Astarion. I think it goes without saying that a lot of people have been able to relate to his plight in some form: whether that is through physical abuse, sexual assault, emotional abuse, or other traumas. He is not a perfect man and is a downright shitty person in the beginning, but if we never give people a chance to grow, we will never see them bloom either. He is a great example of us taking the time to understand why a person is the way the are and having a bit of humbleness in that regard. Astarion isn't just his trauma and I believe there's a lot of lessons to be learned through his character. That's what initially attracted me to him.

Favorite class to play: This is the first DnD game I was able to experience playing as a bard and I instantly fell in love with it! Otherwise, I do really enjoy playing as a beefy fighter or monk!

Favorite NPC: Hmm...Kethric Thorm is the first that comes to mind. He stole the show for me in Act 2 and I found his character to be incredibly compelling. I also have a soft spot for Roland, Alfira, and that sweet baby angel gnome, Barcus Wroot.

Favorite song off the soundtrack: Wash My Dreams Away, Nine blades, Who Are You, and Weeping Dawn to name some!

Tell us a little about your Tav: Tavelle is a balance to Astarion. He is outwardly a charming prickly extravert that is inwardly unsure, afraid, and anxious. Tavelle, on the other hand, is outwardly a humble introvert that is inwardly calm, slowly processes things, with bouts of depression. She's corny, flirty, quiet, feels confident in the skills she knows—readily showing them off—but suffers from making real connections with people due to her severe trust issues and sometimes lack of self worth. I could go on and on and on about her honestly!

Something you wish was in the game: I think some of the companions need more development. Halsin, Wyll, and Minthara are lacking big time in those areas. I also wasn't thrilled with how Act 3 felt overall. While I did enjoy the quests, it felt too much like I was playing in a sandbox of filler fetch missions, instead of enriching the story we were already playing through. Also, I actually really liked the original idea Larian had planned for the tadpoles??? It seemed actually quite interesting!

Do you create fanworks? Share something with us: I am a lover of inner turmoil, angst, and poetry. If you are too, please check out Epistles of Saints & Sinners! This fic has been the longest project I've ever worked on in terms of writing and I have no plans of stopping anytime soon.

Tagging: @inkymoonbunny @preciouslittlebhaalbae @kalmiaphlox @bhaalsdeepbat @roguishcat

[themaskstayson]

Part two of my Wyll Origin Run

Still not sure who Wyll romancing but he will be sending out some flirty vibes to everyone "by accident" as a treat.

Gale is getting on board the Wyll train since Wyll was helping the children at the Grove, Gale decided to very early on confess his condition and then Gale was showing him magic tricks and Wyll pictured them holding hands on a romantic walk. I never picked the option and wanted to see what happens, plus it felt kind of in character.

Just some thoughts about the run below

I imagine that Gale and Wyll are getting close and talking about the Weave and how they draw their magic is different. Wyll showing Gale what magic items he found and going over which one Gale can consume.

I was leaning more towards Astarion cause Astarion and Wyll are my favorites but I also feel like I should explore the other romances and Karlach, Lae'zel, and Gale are the only ones I haven't touched at all... Wyll will continue being a slight flirt (mostly to make them lean towards romance but also I love the idea of Wyll flirting and not realizing he is but the man has 17 charisma let him do his thing) and I'll make a decision once the companions complain about it.

Though... The romantic in me and Wyll might lean towards Gale since Gale is kind of romantic, not as good as Wyll but pretty close. But monster hunter/monster HNNNG Both Astarion and Gale are damsels in distress, why can't I romance them both???

I did have Astarion bite me and said he can feed on me. I also defended him saying the others can leave if they don't like him being a vampire and Astarion loved that. So, we're on the way for Gale and Astarion to fight for my love tehe lol

Well, we're only level 3.5 and just got to the Blighted Village. Might pick up Karlach when I play later but the paladins are rough and I forgot to collect barrels....

[swimmingtrunks]

Baldur's Gate 3 progress report:

I'm in Act 3 with Durge. Lost my grasp on her character a bit in Act 2, and then accidentally locked her out of all origin character romances. So now I'm trying to find fun in having this playthrough go a little off the rails and exploring choices I probably won't be inclined to make on a more "canon" run. Still not really interested in a full on "evil" run, but definitely making some questionable choices here. A heel turn, if only a weak one.

The romance mess:

She was indulging in benefits with Astarion but after that pivotal conversation decided to be there for him as a friend instead.

I feel like Lae'zel woulda been a good route for this run but she didn't want sloppy seconds after the tiefling party I guess? (Also didn't let her ask until after the creche so that's maybe more the problem.)

By the time Wyll took her up on the dance she had other things cooking, and to be honest he didn't really click for me as a character until Act 3. That pout tho :(((

Pretty sure I want to do a Gale romance with my Tav so I swore him off for now. Gale romance as a treat. Look I KNOW I have a TYPE I have a THIRST for NERD CHARACTERS who spackle EGO and BAD HUMOR over their INSECURITIES like NO ONE WILL NOTICE I NOTICE

Wasn't ready to commit to a Karlach romance after the second engine upgrade and didn't wanna hurt her so skipped that lil' exclamation point and the whole thing fizzled.

I thought Shadowheart was still a possibility but nope! Not sure why!

I'm not sure if I haven't invested enough time in Minthara or if I missed the hop-on point there too. Or if glitched because I did the workaround to recruit her

Luckily Daddy Druid is around and horny, so Durge has an outlet for her less dark urges. Because why not.

The heel turn:

After abstaining from tadpoles for the first two acts, Durge flipped and took the astral tadpole, then started snackin' on the ones she tucked away earlier. She's not pushing them on anyone else who objects, but Minthara was jazzed and Gale was curious so who was she to deprive them of cool powers and a gross complexion.

Oddly enough, I had given her heterochromia at some point to turn the eye with the scarring around it white, and it did NOT get the astral worm treatment. She's got quite the look going on now.

The small grip I have on Durge's motivations is that after the paternity reveal she's feeling like bucking authority and throwing some vindictive middle fingers. Not sure where that will lead with the Emperor/ main quest but I do have a feeling Durge will be indulging the misguided goals of her [power] hungry guys.

Other thoughts:

Astarion is an EXTREMELY good character and all around well written and acted. I do wonder if there would be more affection for other characters if their animations were anywhere near as lively as his. He SHOULD be more dramatic than the rest, but idk. I feel like the others have a few good moments sprinkled in (SH fingerguns, Lae'zel describing turning into a mindflayer, Gale's needle miming, etc) but mostly end up... just standing there. Even Karlach, who's idle animations are the least idle things ever.

When I found some in-world text referencing a miniature giant space hamster, I thought it was a Mass Effect reference, not the other way around. I am on the precipice of meeting Minsc and Boo and I am excited.

Pretty sure I'm having a similar banter bug to DAI. Act 1 had tons of banter, but even then I'd have issues where I couldn't actually hear one of the characters, only read what they were saying. In Act 2 there was like NOTHING, and Act 3 has been sparse with the same issue as Act 1. Made Act 2 feel kinda stagnant to me, really hoping it doesn't happen in my next playthrough.

[bluerose5]

2, 5, 9, and 22 for whichever OTP you like 😊

From the OTP Relationship Asks. Probably not surprising to anyone, given my recent posts, but I'll go with Astarion & Zevran. Sorry in advance for this essay of a post. 😁

2. Any sleep habits either had to get used to? Given that dnd lore consists of elves going into trances/meditative states rather than sleeping, I'd say that I still see Zevran taking on a more relaxed position during rest, preferring to curl up with blankets and pillows around him. I've seen quite a few posts that point out Astarion not even having a proper bedroll in his tent, so I think Astarion would have to grow accustomed to the idea that it's okay to be comfortable during that time. It's okay to let his guard down and be close to another, probably resulting in some eventual cuddles, but both of them are definitely the types to keep daggers hidden close at hand, no matter what. If they do get comfortable enough to spend their rests together, Zevran might need time to get used to the differences in body temperature. He strikes me as the type to get goosebumps at the slightest breeze and whine about it being freezing cold, so he'd start off in blanket burritos when they snuggle until he gets acclimated. Astarion feels a little guilty about it but tries not to linger on it too much because Zevran enjoys being close to him and he loves how warm Zevran is.

5. What is their love language? I know this might be a little predictable, since gifts were a thing for all companions in Origins, but I genuinely believe gift-giving/receiving would be Zevran’s love language. Items have power. They have practicality, but most importantly, they have meaning. I think it's especially telling that he tells you how sentimental items were taken from them in the Crows if found, including his mother's gloves, but he tries to show his appreciation to his LI by gifting them an earring he's kept for presumably years since his first kill. Plus, he even tells you he's never received a gift. To be given something special without expectation of anything in return...? I think he'd eat that up.

Astarion, on the other hand? I'm leaning towards words of affirmation. I feel like you see it a lot in the dark urge romance scenes, since a lot of what they're going through can be viewed as similar, depending on how you play. But I think he sees power in words, just as much as actions, even when those words are empty. However, once he gets to say words like "I love you" or "You're amazing" without having to do so for the sake of manipulation, he means it, and I think that he celebrates that he can express himself so openly and genuinely once he's free.

9. How are their personalities different? I had to think through this one a little more since it would be easier to say how they're alike, but I would say —going back to the previous post— Zevran has a stronger sense of sentimentality than Astarion at the moment. Zevran, in spite of what he was taught, forms strong attachments to things and ideas. He's not afraid to talk about his homesickness, for example, and what he misses from Antiva, good or bad. It could be said that this might be because Astarion hasn't simply had the chance to form those attachments over the centuries, given that all he was capable of doing was Cazador's bidding.

Also, I just see Zevran as being less concerned about appearances overall. Race, rank, title. None of that stuff concerns him much. No one is above dying at his blade, after all, and he seems pretty unimpressed when attending events among nobility that require acting on any type of ceremony or elevating one above others, such as the celebration at the end of Origins or even when you give Cailan a funeral pyre in the Return to Ostagar dlc.

Meanwhile, Astarion has a lot of ambition to the point where it weakens his sense of empathy in comparison, but that ambition is tangled up in a sense of survival. While Zevran isn't above speaking up for others like the Dalish or the mages if I remember correctly, when it's clear that a lot of innocents are set to die for the crimes of others, Astarion isn't above sacrificing others' free will or lives (such as when he suggests taking over the cult or killing the spawn to ascend) when it benefits him. But his "ambition" is merely a means of gaining power, so that he can exert that power in ways where others won't pose a threat to him. His approach to survival is very much at times, "If it doesn't affect me personally, then it's not my problem." Not saying he's entirely incapable of empathy, just that it's often lesser due to that mentality.

22. Who gets more easily embarrassed?

Oh, Astarion. Definitely. He's good at putting on his act of being unbothered, but there are definitely times when he seems to get caught off guard by stuff others say. I know there are times when Tav/Durge can say something silly or unhinged, and he scolds them even if teasingly. He also seems to get flustered when you take more genuine dialogue options when he fully expects shallow responses. Zevran, my beloved Zevran, just has so little shame, even beyond his defense/coping mechanisms. He says the craziest shit. First thing that comes to mind is him calling the urn of sacred ashes a vase or his infamous "children thrown at high speeds are dangerous" line. My man just has no fucks to give. He is here for a good time, and he speaks his mind. It'll take a lot to embarrass him. 😆

[meonlyred]

BG3 Epilogue spoilers. A very long post.

Found a work around for the Unique Tav mod problem I was having. The epilogue would not trigger if I took the mod out and when I would put it back in then I got a body texture error giving my Tavs a darken grid skin texture. So I didn't take screen shots just played to see what happens. But I got screen shots now baby!!

Something I love about this game is that it gives dates. The game begins the 20th of Eleasis (August) 1492. For this play through it was the 15th of Uktar (November) when I finished the game. Meaning its around mid Mirtul (May) 1493 when the party takes place. The dialogue tab does not reflect the time skip but easy enough to do the math.

So some highlights.

Bro I straight up cried at Shadowheart's conversation. She has a house she has been fixing up, her parents are both still alive. Her father has been helping her take care of her animals and rebuild her home. Her mother has good days and bad but they did make a pie together and Shadowheart actually remembers it from her childhood.

Lark is not a hugging person but Shadowheart and her were close friends and I feel this was appropriate

I love that you can find some Selûnite slippers that are clearly Shadowheart's since she is walking around bare foot and wading into the river.

A duck from Halsin! This fits in with headcanon/ttrpg campaign things I have for Lark. She has a carved lark and a carved sparrow, for her and her brother that she found in the remains of her childhood home. The duck with go along side those.

Karlach 😳 ma'am.

FINALLY Justice for Karlach! Please I need her to come home! Because THIS SHIP NEEDS TO SAIL PLEASE!!!

Confession: for our Descend into Avernus campaign I almost made a barbarian lady who was married to a smith with like five kids back at home. But my party ended up having two paladins so I thought we had enough melee tanks. So I made a divine soul sorcerer instead. And then I played BG3 and THIS! THIS IS MY SHIP!!!

I had been wondering about this. Because I kind of felt really sad for the original Tadfools at the end. Of the original six (seven if you count Tav) only Shadowheart and Gale remained to celebrate their victory that night because of the choices I made. Lae'zel left with the githyanki, Wyll and Karlach had to leave immediately to go to Avernus to save Karlach. And Astarion had to flee into the shadows and didn't show back until the reunion party. Sure there was Minsc, Jaheira, and Halsin. But for this play through it was just Lark, Gale, and Shadowheart sitting around a table in the Elfsong going "damn, so all that happened to us." I have thought a lot about the moment right after defeating the Elderbrain. As I said above we know the game starts in Eleasis and keeps track of how many days go by. How many long rests you take will determined how long the game takes place. So for me the party had the tadpoles and shared thoughts for exactly 80 days. To suddenly not, to sit a cross from someone who you shared something unique and terrifying and to now have the silence of your own thoughts. I find it very interesting and very sad that several of the party were not present to share and come to terms with that moment together.

This was actually a bit surprising to me. I was wondering what class Wyll would become after losing his Warlock powers. I had thought a Paladin might suit him. A couple of my play throughs I have even muiltclassed him as a Palock. Fighter would have been my second guess. If you do the other story you find out that his ranger pet is a wolf name Lily! (If you have Wyll as a Duke then he names his adopted daughter Lily. Which is the cutest thing.)

(My Wyllmancer play through Psalm is bugged right now. Wyll, Karlach, and she went to Avernus together and right now all the companions think I romanced Karlach instead of Wyll. 😭)

omg I can't believe Lark married a wizard just like her mother. 🙄

Those who might have been reading my posts on Lark will know she was an import from one of my ttrpg campaigns. She is very near and dear to me. I was please that the timeline of our campaign and the timeline of BG3 allowed me to bring her into the game as bit older and more mature woman than she was in our campaign.

Romancing Gale with her was wildly fitting. Lark is the daughter of a Silvermoon trained Wizard and an Wild Magic Sorcerer Uthgardt barbarain (the roman use of the word, not the class.) I won't go too deep into it but its very fitting considering the reason Lark's parents died, it feels like history is righting itself. As Wither might say, balance.

As for Lark's relationship with Gale, she could argue with him passionately about magic. She could make her displeasure in how the gods interfere with morals loud and clear. But most importantly turn him away from the gods influence. What I found really interesting is that for Lark's play through, Gale still has the orb.

Both Lark and Psalm told Gale to not apologize to Mystra and told him not to try and fish the crown out of the Chionthar. Apparently he didn't listen to Psalm. But for Lark the orb apparently has become inert. Which I approve of a lot, especially for Lark's play through. She would never tell him to try to become a god, nor would she tell him to seek Mystra's forgiveness and to become her chosen again.

Lark has Wyll philosophy when it comes to the gods. You can't really be agnostic or atheist in Faerûn. But she is as close as you can get without risking ending up in the Wall of Faithless.

Anyways, I think its very cute that Gale has become a professor. He had made a comment wishing to teach if you say he is an apple during the Dryad's newly wed game.

LMAO she leans in for a kiss and he leans away. Sir, she is a sorceress and kind of a mean one at that. She is going to turn you into a frog and put you in a jar.

I did take the friendly options with Tara because yeah... after talking to her, yeah Gale is right, they are a lot alike. Tara and Lark conspiring, yeah... yeah that is right.

I did reload to see what she said if you were mean with her and smifomsdfioms the fireballs about to be thrown.

Anyways this is far more than I expected. I thought at best we were going to get the same as DoS2, a slide show of nice art and the narrator telling us what happens. Most of the conversations with the companions were much longer than just a handful of lines. Some of them longer than base game conversations. I am kind of floored by this epiloge.

[doublegoblin]

Man, Astarion got the short end of the stick as far as good endings go.

So I was on a walk and talking with the partner about BG3 (because good gamer very fun) with an emphasis on how the (arguably) poster boy of the game really kinda got screwed over.

This is going to involve some VERY HEAVY spoilers for the game so I will be putting the rest under the cut petals~

So I won't go too in depth because time on earth is limited and I'd rather not write an entire dissertation so I'll try and keep this brief and to the point. Also this is only going over the "good" endings for the Origin characters.

So huzzah you defeated the Nether Brain! Good job Tav or Whoever! We are all bathing in the setting sunlight! Oh no! Astarion no longer has his tadpole and is burning in the sun! Aaaaand he's ran off.

Wait what?

Yeah here's my issue with this ending. Everyone else, while maybe a tragic ending (see Karlach), gets one that is full of some hope at least! You have Shart overcoming her brainwashing and learning to live for herself. Lae'zel going off to fight a fascistic lich-queen, Wyll out of his contract (without DYING) and finally being able to tell his dad the truth, Gale no longer worried about the bomb in his chest and fufilling his (shitty fucked up) misson to Mythra, Karlach is in Avernus again yes but she isn't alone (either with you or Wyll) and is taking charge of her own life, Halsin saved the shadow-cursed lands and reunites with his best friend, Jaheira reunited with Minsc who is no longer a statue! Hells even Durge gets something nice in becoming their own person!

And poor Astarion, like I know you can't cure vampirism (I could go on how there should have been a counterpart to the ascended ending for him where maybe not cure but help), runs away and becomes alone again (unless you romance him but c'mon man that won't be everyone's play-through) losing all the connections and found family he has made. Like this guy was juuuuust on the cusp of having something he hadn't had in over 200 years, friends and some positive influences in his life and it is snatched away.

Like I thought I did something WRONG when that scene started playing! And like, yes, he is wasn't the greatest of guys when you meet up but can you blame him? Like this man has had to endure 200 years of no true freewill of his own, his body literally being puppeteered by the whims of his Pimp. He became a monster to survive. Does this make up for his past deeds though? Hells fucking no. But, like, he was on the road to not redemption but rehabilitation.

Idk like I said I want to keep this short but damn, he is the ONE character to not have an ending with even a crumb of hope.

ALSO WE CAN JUST STAY IN BALDUR'S GATE AND HIT HIM UP, WE KNOW WHERE HE LIVED! Also like, you've made good with the Guild, you can have that favor and figure out where the guy is...just so he doesn't have to lose the few people who he may care about.

Okay okay now I'm good. Trust me though, THIS is short compared to the thoughts I was having and very loudly proclaiming on our walk. I know a lot of the nuance is being lost by keeping this short but yeah. Bleh, they did my stupid sexy vampire dirty and he earned a smidge of hope imo.

[artsyrissa]

This fun little thing has been going around twitter. I said who needs likes when you can have tav lore! So, I answered them all! here they are:

1. Her birth name is Suspiria, she later took on the last name windfall after her late care taker Wynona Windfall a sweet dwarf alchemist living in the secluded woods beyond baldurs gate. Suspiria is an asmodeous tiefling beast master ranger with a wolf named Karma. Her background is charlatan from her time living under her slavers, but she could also have a little bit of an outlander background after she escaped. Her pronouns are she/her and her alignment is chaotic neutral, but leaning chaotic good.

2. Suspiria was a charlatan in baldurs gate making some shady deals to get by. She probably was up to some scheme to make a quick dollar when she was captured.

3. She slept with astarion, but ultimately fell in love with Gale. They have some history, even though they didn’t realize it at first.

4. After the romance drama settled, her an astarion became besties. Her and karlach are also very well. She never liked wyll, and found him very annoying, but karlach cared about him, so she tried to treat him with respect and had his back along the journey.

5. Many of the tieflings died on their journey through the shadow cursed lands. This really hurt her, but she would never show it. she tried everything to protect her kin, but she couldn’t save them all.

6. Post game, she is happily married to Gale & living in waterdeep. She raises hunter pets, mostly wolves, and helps train hunter pets and young rangers a few times a week. She never imagined herself settling down, but it was what she never knew she truly wanted.

7. Supiria has no living blood family left, at least not to her knowledge, but she has a mother figure in her life who took her in a few years after she escaped her slave owner.

8. She specializes in archery, but she is naturally inclined to the arcane to some degree and knows a few cantrips and healing spells.

9. Her proudest moment was saving the tieflings in the emerald grove and sticking it to Khaga. She looks out for her kin whenever she can.

10. She has thigh high leather boots that also act as sufficient armor. At camp she like to be comfortable, and prefers to let a little skin show

11. She feels most relaxed being in nature, preferably by a lake or stream.

12. She originally took Raphael’s deal out of a moment of weakness. She doesn’t always look past her own self interest right away, since she had to look out for herself for so long. But karlach talked some sense into her, and she was thrilled to put Raphael in his place and steal all his treasure. She had helped yugir back in the sharran temple, so he helped her to break into Raphael’s, which solidified her decision to break the contract.

13. She doesn’t follow any gods, she strongly dislikes gods and feels they’re selfish beings who toy with mortals for fun, this was further confirmed for her after falling for Gale.

14. She was living on the outskirts of baldurs gate, doing odd jobs and adventures to earn some coin. She liked being free and untethered to any one place after being forced to stay in one place as a slave

15. She got along very well with Zevlor and had immense respect for him. She looks up to him like a father now.

16. She didn’t know her guardian, she was a tough and beautiful drow, so she was less hesitant to trust her than she would have been with another person, since drow also face similar societal challenges.

17. Suspirias tiefling village was raded when she was about 5 years old, her parents were killed and she was sold into slavery on the black market. She had several slave owners over the years and lived in a few different places. Some were worse than others, but they were all abusive. Her last owner was an older human man. He was a bad man, but never hurt her like the others, but she ultimately killed him and ran away to escape slavery all together. She was around 12 when she escaped.

18. Hurting astarion, not so much sleeping with him, but for leading him on and hurting him in the end. Although they’ve all moved on at this point, it weighed heavy on her for a while.

19. These slide off easily, but good luck breaking down those walls.

20. Not in particular

21. Teasing in more ways than one 😉 and sarcasm and hugging, which is reserved for only those she cared for most

22. Before the journey, her greatest fear was falling in love, or having someone she was afraid to lose. After, losing her friends and/or her Husband.

23. She actually felt some level of empathy for ketheric, she longed for her family desperately too once, especially when she was young, and she made some poor decisions because of it. She hated gortash and Orin, they were selfish and sloppy and too stupid to have so much power.

24. She carried a book Gale gave her everywhere, although she didn’t recognize it was his at the start of the journey. They only met once briefly as children and he gave her the book because he didn’t want her to be lonely.

25. Her last slave owner was not too far from baldurs gate, when she ran away and was eventually taken in by wynona, she started going there often to help her caretaker sell her potions, and to collect supplies, etc.

26. the Balthazar fight was so hard! She wasnt comfortable with the terrain and that jerk reminded her of slavers, keeping alin like that. It really got to her head. She was trying to be supportive of ShadowHeart, but she was frustrated with her inability to see her goddess for what she is.

27. Realizing she was in love with Gale and realizing he was on a suicide mission. She was furious with mystra and elminster and even with Gale for considering it, and she didn’t want to accept her love for him. She mostly suffered in silence, but her team noticed her mind was elsewhere from time to time.

28. Her reputation before was very much charlatan. She was scheming and sly, and kind of a bitch, and she liked it. She intimidated her way through many schemes and caused quite a bit of trouble in her time in baldurs gate.

29. She isn’t really a morning person, so she often stayed up late. She did a lot of the hunting and gathering, collecting firewood and finding food and medicine for the group.

30. She freed Orpheus and let him take on the illithid form, since she refused. She has come a long way, but she is still very self serving in some lights. (I didn’t have lazel in my original run, but I am replaying and have lazel this time, so her ending may change) still ends up with Gale in the end no matter what.

Thank you for coming to my rant. Ok bye 👋😅

[fourraccoonsinacoat]

Head Full of Ghosts | Chapter 4: Bumps in the Night

Pairing: Astarion x Dark Urge

Summary: Takes place during the events of Baldur's Gate 3 and explores the romance between Astarion and the Dark Urge, as well as the friendships and relationships she has with her companions. Plus, everyone gives shit to Gale about his cooking. Tags: Slow Burn, Angst, Pining, Humor, Violence, Friends to Lovers, Developing Friendships, Developing Romance, Spoilers for the Dark Urge and BG3 in general, Dark Urge as Original Female Character Rating: Mature (Will eventually be Explicit, just not there yet.) Current Chapter Count: 4/? Read on AO3 Current Word Count: 16,755

Author's Note: AND WE'RE BACK! I'm so sorry for not updating this fic in a hot minute. I ran into some gnarly writer's block going into the holidays and the new year, but I'm back on track. I even wrote two one shots featuring these two which can be found on my account. Please enjoy them, and this chapter, with my apologies. Thanks for sticking with me and these crazy idiots.

Astarion sat at the small round dressing table situated just outside his tent, fingers drumming idly against the worn wood as he leaned back in his chair. In his other hand, he held an open book outstretched in front of him, red eyes skimming across the pages.

Evening had settled in over the camp, bringing with it a chill in the air as the far-off rumble of thunder rolled in the distance. Candlelight flitted from a lantern he had set on the table, providing just enough light for him to feign interest in the words of his book. It was a collection of memoirs that had something to do with the dull and painfully tiresome life of an adventurer who had hunted a variety of beasts up and down the Sword Coast.

Or was it devils? Criminals, maybe?

Hells, he didn’t know. It was all terribly trite and uninteresting. The stories, if one could even call them that, were worth less than the paper they’d been printed on. At least they could burn the pages as firestarter for Gale’s cookpot.

Though…that was probably an equally ineffective use of the book. Gale was still a woefully dreadful cook, in Astarion’s opinion. Which was the only one that mattered, really.

The camp was abnormally quiet this evening, a stiff tension settling over them like a low-hanging fog that wouldn’t lift. The usual clamor and din of frivolous chatter and busymaking had been replaced by an eerie silence that was only broken by the pop and crackle of the central campfire.

Astarion could still hear Wyll’s accusatory bellowing reverberating in his mind. The vampire had burst into camp, alone except for an unconscious Eli who hung limp in his arms. He’d been calling for Shadowheart when Wyll came striding up, all pomp and lofty.

“What did you do!?” the warlock-turned-devil had demanded, reaching out as if to wrest Eli from Astarion’s arms.

Astarion had jerked her away from Wyll’s outstretched hands, snarling.

“I didn’t do anything! Get out of my way! Where is Shadowheart!”

He had tried to bully past Wyll, but the warlock grabbed his arm, working to hold him back.

“Where are Gale and Lae’zel? What in the hells happened!?” he’d berated.

Astarion wheeled on him with a vicious and manic grimace.

“Touch me again and I’ll become the monster you so desperately want me to be,” he’d spat with a low growl.

“What is going on – Nightsinger’s embrace!”  

Drawn by the commotion, Shadowheart had approached and then stopped dead, eyes wide as they landed on Eli’s unconscious form. She directed Astarion towards Eli’s tent, waving off Wyll who had still been asking questions that weren’t helpful to the situation at hand.

“Lay her down on her bedroll. What happened to her?” Shadowheart asked as she and Astarion had approached the tent.

He explained about the encounter with the hunter and how Eli had charged the man just as he’d been taking aim at Astarion, resulting in a poisoned crossbow bolt to her shoulder. Despite the wound, Eli had surged forward, launching an Eldritch Blast ahead of her which took the man off his feet before he could reload for another shot.

Astarion had followed, cursing Eli for her foolhardy rush to play hero. The bolt had been meant for him, and if she got herself badly injured or worse during this debacle, he was going to be the one to have to explain everything to the rest of the freakshow menagerie back at camp. He was already on loose footing with the lot of them, the revelation of his vampirism having gone over about as poorly as he’d expected. Between the jabs, the glares and the threats, the only thing that had calmed everyone was Eli’s insistence that he was trustworthy.

Both Astarion and Eli didn’t mention the small detail of how he’d crept up on her while she lay in her bedroll, fully intending to set upon her while she slept. She had an odd definition of trustworthy…

The last thing he needed was for her to get herself wounded on his account. Which meant that was exactly what would happen, because when he got right down to it everything in his life amounted to nothing more than a shit stain in the annals of history. Nothing ever swung his way, so why not add to it getting the one person who seemed remotely okay with his existence killed?

Astarion’s jaw clenched as he stared at the open book in front of him, candlelight causing shadows to dance and flicker upon the page. He’d taken leave of Eli’s tent after laying her on the bedroll for Shadowheart to examine. The cleric had indicated she’d be able to heal the wound to Eli’s shoulder after they dosed her with an antidote.

Hesitantly relieved, Astarion had walked to his own tent, noting that both Gale and Lae’zel had returned and were currently engrossed in a conversation with Wyll as he questioned them for details about their trip to find Ethel. Ignoring the trio, Astarion had grabbed the first book he could find and set about making himself look busy in hopes they’d all just leave him alone after the events of the evening. He was agitated by the restlessness stirring in his gut, and every so often his eyes would flick to the closed flap of Eli’s tent which was situated across the camp from his own. The panic from earlier had settled into a vexed sort of impatience that sat heavy in his chest. His mind wandered to the other night, when he’d come upon Eli in the ruin and they’d sat together, talking. It had been…nice, just to sit and talk without all the tension and pressure of having to lure someone back to the mansion.

His nights in the city were always pressed by the driving need to bring some poor fool back for Cazador, less he be punished in any number of agonizing ways for his failure. The last time he’d returned to the mansion without a mark, Cazador had forced Astarion to peel the skin from the soles of his own feet and walk endlessly through the filth-infested kennels for three days. He’d trudged the same path, over and over, stepping on rocks and bone splinters and all manner of refuse and sewage. When he was finally released from Cazador’s thrall, he’d sank to his knees and howled out in wretched anguish, able to at last release the screams of pain that had been burning in his lungs for the past days as he wept silent tears and walked. Walked. Walked…

That had been only a week or so before the mind flayers captured him…

Astarion breathed in slow, not needing the air that filled his lungs but calmed by the action, all the same. He shoved the vile memories of Cazador and his enslavement down into a deep pit within himself and tried to think of other, less miserable things. The Barrel-Aged Callidyrran Eli had given him the other night, now tucked away in his tent unopened. It had been a strange thing, to be given something and told there was no expectation upon him to return the favor or provide any sort of reparation. He still wasn’t sure he trusted the gesture, but Eli had not brought the matter up since.

He wondered if she knew he couldn’t exactly drink the wine…or, well, not without adding a bit of blood, anyway. Otherwise it would just taste foul. Another side-effect of his condition. He vaguely recalled having enjoyed the drink once, and like all of his vague recollections he clung to that knowledge with a vice grip, desperate to not lose anymore of himself.

What the hell did Eli get out of all this, anyway? Giving him gifts, vouching for him to the group, letting him feed on her, literally throwing herself in front of a crossbow bolt for him. It frustrated him that he couldn’t parse her intentions.

Astarion’s eyes darted back to her tent, noting that the flap remained closed. He set his jaw, grinding his teeth in thought.

“She’ll be fine, fangs, don’t worry. Shadowheart’s got it under control.”

Astarion’s head jerked in the direction of Karlach, who was standing a few feet from his tent, arms crossed as she peered at him with a small smirk.

“And, hey, if she does end up kicking it, we’ve got weird cryptic skeleton guy who says he can bring people back from the dead, easy-peasy.” Karlach gestured over her shoulder towards Withers with a thumb. “Not sure if I’d bet my own life on the creepy bone man, but it’s an option.”

Astarion frowned at the tiefling who simply grinned back at him. His eyes dropped back to his book.

“I wasn’t worried,” he said flatly.

“Ooooooh, okay. I get it.”

Astarion quirked an eyebrow curiously at Karlach’s reply, looking up just in time to see her wink.

“Wasn’t aware not being able to read was one of those vampiric side-effects, but not to fret. I’ll teach you,” she said, barely able to suppress a laugh beneath her words as she continued to smile with a knowing look that made Astarion shift in his chair.

“What in the hells are you going on about?” he barked, both a bit indignant and confused.

Karlach uncrossed her arms, placing one on her hip and indicating his book with the other.

“You haven’t turned a single page since you sat down,” she explained. “So, you’re either the most eloquently illiterate person I’ve ever met, or your attention is elsewhere.” She jerked a thumb towards Eli’s tent and Astarion scowled at her.

Heaving a frustrated sigh, he snapped the book closed and dropped it unceremoniously on the table. Taking that as an invitation to join the vampire, Karlach sauntered over and grabbed the other bistro-style chair at his table. She flipped it backwards, straddled it, and sat, crossing her arms atop the chair back and leaning forward.

Astarion watched her curiously, but said nothing as she situated herself at the table. He and Karlach had exchanged pleasantries and idle chatter since she’d joined their little traveling circus, but he didn’t really know much about her. Well, other than the whole engine-for-a-heart-so-she-could-break-people’s-spines-in-the-hells business. She seemed friendly enough, but Astarion knew all too well how easy it was to put up a sociable front.  

“I’m just tired of all the accusations and suspicion,” he grumbled, pointedly not looking across the camp towards where Wyll was sewing up a patch in his leather armor. “It’s not like I’m Gale, treating our collection of expensive artifacts like his own personal candy store.”

Karlach chuckled and Astarion leaned back in his chair, expression softening just a touch as he stared at the flickering candle of the lantern.

“I haven’t done anything, I just exist. And that’s always enough to disappoint people,” he said, voice low and sharp.

Karlach hummed, considering his words for a moment before she spoke.

“Well, I for one am glad you’re with us, and I know that one is, too.” Karlach nodded her head towards Eli’s tent. “You did good today, soldier.”

Astarion eyed the tent thoughtfully, feeling a bit less dour than he had earlier. He straightened up attentively in his chair when he noticed the entry flap being pushed aside. Shadowheart emerged and, seeing both Astarion and Karlach focused in her direction, began walking towards the pair.

“She’s resting and should be recovered come morning,” she said, waving off Karlach politely as the tiefling rose and offered Shadowheart the chair she’d been using.

Astarion felt a tension he hadn’t even been aware of, ease from him as his posture relaxed.

“Told yah,” Karlach said, giving him another one of her unsettlingly knowing smirks.

“Well,” he said, shifting slightly under both of their gazes. “I’m glad.”

A look passed between Karlach and Shadowheart that Astarion couldn’t quite read. He frowned up at them, but they remained impassive.

“Come on, Shadowheart. With Eli tucked in for the night, we have free rein on the wine!” Karlach spun on her heels and started off towards the camp’s stash of supplies with Shadowheart strolling behind her.

Astarion watched them go, quietly mulling over an idea that had slowly begun to form in his head. He remained where he sat for a long while, uncertainty darkening the lines of his face, before he shook his head with a small grimace and stood.

Turning, he entered his tent, eyes casting about in the gloom for something…

_________________________________

Eli was starving.

She could think about little else as her stomach roiled, slowing churning its own acids around and around. She was past the point of uncomfortable hunger, her gut spasming angrily with a ravenous nausea.

How long had it been since she last ate? Days? A week? She wasn’t sure…

A sickly convulsion gripped her abdomen and Eli sank to her bare knees, heaving bile onto the cold and dingy stone floor. Sweat dripped from her forehead and neck as her body revolted against the lack of food. She vomited until there was nothing left, coughing and hacking as the last dry heaves calmed.

She leaned back and suddenly felt lightheaded, swaying where she knelt then toppling backwards. She felt the back of her head collide with a solid wall, the sharp pain a momentary distraction from the ache in her stomach.

Eli stayed slumped against the wall, too tired to do much else. She could smell the sour stink of her own stomach bile mixed with a dank and stale scent of rot and decay. Blinking against a darkness so deep that even her darkvision struggled to cut through, Eli tried to remember where the hell she was.

Her head was swimming, dulled by dehydration and vicious hunger. She was so confused…

Footsteps echoed from somewhere distant and a flighty panic stirred in her chest. She was afraid. Desperately afraid.      

The footfalls grew louder, then slowed. She heard the abrupt ‘thunk’ of a lock and the angry screech of twisting metal as a cruel bright light tore into the darkness, pouring in through a doorway just in front of her. Eli held her hands up to shield her eyes and with a shock noticed how small they were. They were grubby, scratched and scarred. Nails chewed down and skin cracked and dry, but they were delicate, too.

The hands of a child.

A harsh voice snapped at her from the doorway and Eli tried to see who was there, but the figure was blurred; drowning in the intense light which surrounded them.

“Pitiful. I thought you little spider-blooded mongrels thrived in the dark.”

The voice was familiar. Haunting. It caused a wild sort of terror to hammer at her ribcage.

“Maybe now you’ll be more compliant.”

Fear, hot and vicious tore through her as she felt a hand grip her hair and yank her forward. Her shoulder cracked as it hit the floor, pain burning up her neck and down her arm. She tried to scream as she was dragged out of the dark room and into that blistering light, but her throat was raw and dry…

No.

No. No! NO!

Eli jolted awake, scrambling to get her bearings as her lungs burned with the soundless screams of her nightmare. Her breathing was ragged, catching in her throat as she sat up and blinked wearily, trying to chase the fog from her brain. A dull pain flared in her shoulder and she groaned, mind clearing with recollection as the day before returned to her.

Her headaches, the hunter, Astarion, the crossbow…

Eli peered down at herself, twisting slightly to try and get a decent angle in order to view the closed wound. Her armor had been removed, leaving Eli in her undershirt and a pair of camp pants. She pulled at the shirt collar, trying to see underneath and inspect her shoulder as best she could. An angry scar had bloomed where the wound had been, and she mentally made a note to thank Shadowheart for what she assumed had been the cleric’s work.

Rubbing at her eyes, the ghost of a dull headache still thrumming away at the back of her skull, Eli pulled back the ragged blanket that had been laid over her…then paused. She held the cloth up and away from herself, inspecting it curiously. She didn’t remember owning a blanket…and the scent… Sharp and citrusy, with notes of evergreen and a touch of smokiness. And beneath that…the stale scent of death, slightly rotted and stagnant. She knew that odor. It was one of the reasons she’d pegged Astarion as a vampire upon their first meeting, aside from all of the other obvious hints. He could try and mask it with rosemary and the tang of bergamot, but Eli would know the perfume of death and decay anywhere. The familiarity of it was unsettling, because try as she might, she couldn’t pinpoint why the smell of necrosis was such a balm to her.

Eli rubbed the worn fabric between her fingers, eyeing it closely. She could see careful stitchwork in various places along the edges where meticulous effort had been taken to patch fraying hemming. The texture of the blanket was timeworn and there was a distinct air of mustiness to it. It was old – very old – but comfortable. Eli felt a pang of affection as she folded the blanket and set it aside, cautious to put it somewhere where she wouldn’t accidentally step on it. She stared at it for a moment, thoughts sizzling in her head like small sparks that might set alight a larger blaze if she wasn’t careful. She frowned at herself and turned away, standing with a tired grunt and slamming those nagging and sentimental emotions inside a mental box that she meant to burry deep down within herself.

She seemed only capable of bad ideas these days. Best not to humor anymore.

Stepping out of her tent, Eli took a quick survey of camp. Everything was still, the night dark and deep. Their campfire had burned down to embers that glowed faintly in the gloom and Eli guessed the hour must be early in the darkness of morning. She walked towards the riverbank, stretching out her shoulder and rolling it back tenderly. It would be sore for a few days, she mused, but that was a far cry better than what could have happened had they not had a cleric with them.

Crouching, she cupped water between her hands and splashed her face, still trying to sort through all the thoughts whirring in her mind.

“A saucerer? Really?”

Eli flinched, surprised by the cool, easy voice. She turned her head, grinning up at Astarion who stood a few paces behind her, arms crossed as he leaned against a tree that was growing out from the bank.

“I can’t help it if your sense of humor isn’t as refined as my own,” she said, sitting back onto the sandy shoreline.

A bark of laughter escaped Astarion’s throat and Eli caught herself staring at the delicate hallow between his collarbones.

“Thank the gods for that. Puns are the lowest form of humor, darling.”

A depraved rush sped up her heart and she felt a flush bleed down her neck as the unbidden image of hands pressing down on his throat entered her mind. Astarion’s eyes narrowed at her, shining in the silvery moonlight. He smirked, no doubt noticing her piqued heartrate and the blush below her jaw.

“Happy to see me, my dear?” he purred, uncrossing his arms and stepping out onto the bank.

Eli banished the foul thought from her head as Astarion sat beside her, a brow quirked slyly.

“Happy to see anyone, considering.” She shrugged, ignoring the suggestion beneath his words. He didn’t need to know that her mind wasn’t envisioning the sorts of things he thought it was.

The Urge thrummed distantly in her brain but remained mostly unroused.

“Did you leave a blanket in my tent,” Eli asked, changing the subject before Astarion could make any more quips.

She caught the briefest flash of surprise flit across his expression, but it was gone just as quickly, replaced by a composed air of hautyness. Eli wondered if Astarion hadn’t meant for her to know he’d been the one to leave it.

“Well, yes,” he said, suddenly rather interested in attending to a smudge of dirt on his trousers, brushing at it. “I noticed that shabby excuse for a bedroll in your tent when I brought you back and figured between the blood loss and poison, the last thing we all needed was for the only rational person in camp – besides me, of course – to catch cold and die.”

Eli brought the back of her hand to her forehead, frowning with confusion as she held it there. Astarion gave her a sidelong look, expression guarded.

“What are you doing?” he asked with slight unease.

“Checking to see if I’m running a fever. I don’t think all the poison’s out of my system yet,” Eli said, giggling as Astarion’s frown deepened.

“You know, I am capable of being a thoughtful and decent person,” he chided with no small amount of irritation cutting through his words. “From time to time,” he added after a brief pause.

Eli just smiled back at him, amused by his fluster and bravado.

“I’m teasing,” she said, unable to keep a note of fondness out of her voice. “It was thoughtful. Thank you.”

Astarion returned his attention to the smudge, brushing away at the remaining dirt.

“Don’t go making a fuss about it. I owed you, anyway. For the wine,” he reminded her.

“You didn’t owe me anything,” Eli corrected him warmly.

She was finding it more and more difficult to tune out that bothersome feeling of affection growing behind her ribcage. But, she’d deal with it later. The company was nice in the small, calm hours of the morning. Especially when she considered the nightmares that were likely waiting for her back in the shadows of her tent.

Yeah. She’d definitely, absolutely turn those feelings off. Later.

[avelera]

My BG3 characters can basically be described as dark mirror versions of each other and I cracked up when I noticed how predictable I am.

(Cut for some spoilers)

Play 1: Avelera - Good-guy tiefling warlock/paladin. Wants to save everyone. Romances Gale. Longs for Karlach from afar and wonders what might have been.

Play 2: Tavriel- Drow bard, justifies being “good” as playing the long game acquiring allies, short term niceness = long term power. Romances Astarion. Accidentally ends up making them both into good guys. Regrets having killed Minthara and wonders what might have been.

Play 3: Circe - Dark Mirror to Avelera. Dark Urge tiefling firestarter. All fire spells and fire resistance all the time, baby. Headcanon fire starting as her Dark Urge more than knives. Red dragon lineage sorcerer. Romancing Karlach (but sometimes helplessly charmed by Gale). Doing her best to resist the Urge.

Play 4: Zenobia. Dark Mirror to Circe AND Tavriel. Dark Urge. Drow Rogue. Middle-aged powerhouse, General of Bhaal, full co-conspirator in the original plot, and completely comfortable with her power and murderous urges before she got her mind wiped. Evil playthrough based on a love of smacking those around her with disillusionment with their gods as a twisted form of love. Does all the good guy quests before turning on the Grove. Helps out everyone before turning against them. Revels in confronting Gale with his capacity to choose evil if it means his survival, and Shadowheart and Lae’zel with the apathy and silence of their god, but only after being super supportive of them up to that point. Romanced Astarion but feels no need to disillusion him because he already understands betrayal by higher powers. Oddly makes her a bit protective of him such that when he needed a friend more than a lover, she was sincerely happy to let him go. When Minthara re-emerged she found her true partner in crime, someone who truly understands the betrayal of fallible gods and sees the world the same way she does.

[ryttu3k]

More Dark Urge questions by @daemon-in-my-head ! Previously - set 1 (post also links to previous question sets), sets 2-3.

Here, we have set 4, set 5, set 6, and set 7, because I procrastinated on these for so long that every time I got near the end, another post would appear!!

Content warning for all canon-typical Durge stuff, plus incestuous sexual harassment and mention of pregnancy in set 4, question 6.

Set 4

1. The song that describes you Durge best from your own perspective?

I Want To Live is more Astarion-coded than anything else, but honestly, it works great for a resist!Durge too (and it's a duet, and he's romancing Astarion so it can work for both of them simultaneously!) "There's more to do if we can only live"…

2. OK and now the song that your Durge would actually sing along to because they like it?

Probably something upbeat and bouncy? Pre-tadpole, it'd be the kind of… 'extreme violence set to cheerful/energetic music' vibe. Post-tadpole, it's a lot more genuine and optimistic, haha.

3. What was your Durge's dream before everything happened? What did they want to become? Did they want to stay with their family or did they strive to go adventuring?

Tavias is a people pleaser, deeply insecure, and needs to be needed and wanted, and Father Comes Before All, so his dream was honestly 'do whatever Bhaal wants of me'. It was the impetus for him originally pushing away his fairly justifiable horror at the Temple and cult, knowing that if he did well enough, maybe his true father would return and like him, and it continued to motivate him up until Orin's attack. His dream would have been to carry out Bhaal's plan of omnicide, although he did have a secret quiet desire that Gortash would be by his side the whole time, and that Gortash would be the very last life he took before his own.

If we're talking before he killed his foster parents, honestly, his main desire was to find somewhere where he belonged.

4. Did your Durge ever fulfill that dream or did the temple and cult get in the way? Did they simply discard it? Why?

I mean. In a way XD He assumed he had fulfilled his dream by finding the Temple, his ~true~ family. He actually does end up finding a place where he belongs post-tadpole, though - with Astarion, with Halsin, with Jaheira. With people who love him for himself, not his heritage ;_;

5. What does Durge think of family? Describe it with one word.

Messy.

6. Sarevok, what was his relationship with your Durge like? Did they like each other? Was it complicated?

They goddamn loathed each other. From Sarevok's perspective, when Tavias first comes to the Temple in 1472, there are only a few remaining Bhaalspawn - himself and Orin, Abdel, who famously disavowed Bhaal, and Veikang, who's been keeping quiet for all these years. Sarevok sees himself as the head of the Cult of Bhaal, and Orin as his heir (having already pit her against Helena two years earlier, and Orin being the survivor). Now there's this child, an outsider who knows nothing of the cult's ways, who's being positioned as the new leader - and worse, he's far more 'pure' than even Sarevok is, than even Orin, his bespoke Bhaalspawn grand/daughter, is. It was instant resentment.

On Tavias' part, he initially did want Sarevok to like him. Sarevok was kin. His older half-brother. He had always wanted older siblings, and now here was one who knew all about the strange place he had found himself in, only for Sarevok to dislike him? Very crushing. His disgust and dislike started growing as Sarevok made no secret (behind closed doors, of course, had to present themselves as a happy family to the cult!) of his own dislike, and definitely amped up as he learned about Orin's parentage - and Sarevok's plans to create an even more pure Bhaalspawn. Tavias was, at least, treated as a boy from the moment he arrived, but Sarevok was well aware that Tavias had the right anatomy to get pregnant, and pretty much… would try to convince him that the two of them would create the Ultimate Bhaalspawn.

Tavias was 16-17 at this point, more or less leading the cult on a daily basis after his successful murder spree, and, uh, had got very well-accustomed to using violence to solve all his problems. He told Sarevok that if he ever laid a hand on him (or the then-14-15-year-old Orin), Tavias would get revenge so violent and gory that even Bhaal would go, "Hmm, that may be a bit much", and more or less banished Sarevok just to running the Tribunal instead of the entire cult. By 1492, he thinks Sarevok is both washed-up and a disgusting old pervert who would be better off dead, and frankly, he's all too happy to kill his big brother when he finally returns.

7. Does your Durge know of Sarevok's past? What do they think about it?

He learns the 'official' version pretty early on, and all the messy details a few years in. It doesn't do much to improve his view on him, just reinforces the fact that he failed. In 1482, after Abdel and Veikang die and Bhaal returns, Tavias uses the fact that Sarevok's death wasn't required as evidence that his earlier resurrection around the time of the Crisis removed any essence of Bhaal from him; he was no longer relevant. It was just Tavias, and, less importantly, Orin (being only part Bhaalspawn), who would represent Bhaal in the future. Tavias was pureblooded, Tavias was the Slayer, Tavias had the Urge, Tavias was Chosen. Sarevok? He was yesterday's news.

8. Education in the Temple, what did it look like? Did they enjoy it?

Yeah, more or less! He had essentially four streams of education - a general education that any kid in Baldur's Gate would get, because Bhaal's heir would not be an uneducated hick. He was given Bhaal-specific education, about the history of the cult, of Bhaal, of the earlier crisis, and of other things relating to the gods. Technically, should Tavias had wished, he could have 100% qualified as a Cleric of Bhaal instead of a sorcerer. As it was, though, he was a sorcerer, and so learning to use his arcane abilities was the third stream; finally, he (and everyone else in the Temple) was given combat training, with a special focus on assassination and, uh, vivisection. He enjoyed it for the most part, although he's still not a fan of literature studies.

9. Did your Durge ever attend a gathering of High Society with Gortash? Did they fit in, did they charm their way into the upper echelon's heart or were they despised?

Oh yes, and he loved it. Tavias knew how to turn up the charm, even if he came across as… kind of disconcerting; on the other hand, the upper echelon was fairly used to 'disconcerting'. Lots of dirty secrets going around! But yes, he did take a lot of enjoyment in dressing up as the most beautiful person in the room and charming the pants off everyone. And if the occasional back-room murder happened, even better! :D

10. Ketheric Thorm's dream, reviving the dead. What did Durge think of it? Did they consider it a sacrilege as Ketheric wanted to reverse the death Durge so loved to sow, or could they understand the desire of wanting to reclaim a loved one?

He could vaguely understand it in abstract terms, but did not relate. By the time he met Ketheric, he had well and truly pushed aside any sentimentality, had been drinking the Bhaalist Kool-Aid for nearly two decades, and there was no one he thought would be better off alive than dead. His goal at this point was to murder the world, after all, and he genuinely believed the world would be better that way. The timeline is a little unclear on whether Isobel was resurrected before Tavias was attacked or not, but he definitely knew that the desire to bring her back was why Ketheric had turned to Myrkul, and also thought it was a stupid idea and a sign that Ketheric was a weak link in their plans.

Set 5

1. The Gate has more than just one cult dedicated to an evil aligned Deity. What does your Durge think about the Sharran Outpost establishing itself within their turf? Were there any sort of run-ins that escalated?

Honestly he just kind of takes it as a given that there are other cults and the like around the city, and the Sharrans aren't too close to the Temple. He doesn't like Sharrans - removing someone's memories when they could, say, be twisted and put towards murder instead seems like such a waste! - but he tolerates their presence (and, of course, they'll stay out of the Undercity if they know what's good for them :) ). For run-ins, I feel they would probably try to stay out of each other's ways, for the most part.

2. How did your Durge feel seeing the bodies of their brethren being ogled by the general populous in the Hall of Wonders? Disgust, pride, nothing?

A bit of disgust, if only because they're not being presented right, dammit. Museums set up a narrative with their exhibitions, whether intentionally or otherwise. Oh, some definitely try to be impartial, but every museum is going to go, okay, what story are we telling here? And they tell a story of Bhaalists as losers, Bhaalists as failures, Bhaalists as irrelevant, and - no. Bhaalists are very much on the rise again, thank you very much, and those bodies and relics should be displayed with care and pride, not as, "Look at this sad figure!"

3. Nine Fingers has dedicated herself to keeping peace between the warring underworld factions no matter the cost. What price did the Bhaalists require under Durge's leadership?

More or less the same as the Sharrans - try to stay out of each other's way. The Cult are more powerful and are backed by an actual deity (well, quasi-deity), but the Guild are far more numerous, and have their fingers - pun unintended - in far more pies. In a one-on-one conflict, a Bhaalist would win, but en masse, the Guild and their allies could probably do a fair bit of damage to the Temple. So they try and keep things… more or less chill. There's probably a bit of collaboration - if a Bhaalist needs some pressure put on someone in a more 'diplomatic' way than Bhaal would approve of, or if a Guild member needs someone disposed of but without the Guild itself being implicated, they could scratch each other's backs.

4. Speaking of Nine Fingers, what was your Durge's relationship with her like? Was it amicable or did they regularly come for each other's throat?

Yeah, amicable. Keene is a bit older than Tavias, and was a little surprised when he started openly leading the Cult when he was only in his teens, but hell, she was already doing Crimes at his age. So long as he's competent, no issue there.

5. The Zhent may follow Bane, but what did the Bhaalist leader think of them and their operations?

Useful at times. Pretty widespread, good contacts for smuggling in particular. He would let them use cult safehouses as drop spaces at times in exchange for a cut.

6. Mercenaries are a valued resource even for death cults and almost any significant operation in Faerûn. Did Durge ever hire any, and if so, what for?

Oh yeah, and similar to the kind of collaborations done with the Guild or Zhentarim. Sometimes, they'd identify a promising new member, send them on a test mission, and if they passed, they received an offer to join the cult. ('No' was not actually accepted. You become a cult member, or you become a murder victim.)

7. Did Durge have a last name? Why or why not and if they had any, where did they get it from? Was it self made or inherited?

Nope. In his childhood, he'd just use whatever his current foster family used, and after going to the Temple, it kind of… wasn't necessary. "Tavias who?" "…Tavias the HEIR OF MURDER??"

8. Does your Durge have a symbol of their own? What is it?

Ooh man haven't thought about it before but the Bhaal skull with added in dragon horns would be cool as hell.

9. Did your Durge have any familiars? Why or why not, and if yes, what were they?

Not unless Sceleritas counts!

10. Does a portrait of your Durge exist somewhere in Faerûn? How did it come to be?

Oh yes. Sarevok most likely had at least a few commissioned of the kids as they were growing up, and Tavias himself definitely had one commissioned in full regalia after Bhaal's return and being officially named Chosen.

Set 6

1. Durge flayed themselves at least once, why?

Sex, probably. Maybe as a pentinence thing? I feel he was quite willing to try Abdirak's methods because he was used to pain for pentinence and it just sort of… resonated. Alternatively, another way of communing with Bhaal? Taking himself to the brink of death or something.

2. What did they think when they wrote the Prayer down? Why was it so important for them to have a physical copy of it?

Kind of… a desperate attempt to get all his thoughts about Gortash out of his head, he'll do what he's told, he's a good boy, he really is. (It was a massive bit of downplay, saying he 'admired' Gortash. Tavias was in love with him, and if Gortash had asked if they could scrap their plans and leave their masters and make their own story, he would have been tempted.) He never ended up 'officially'. Uh. Submitting it? Praying it? Whatever, he wrote it down intended for Bhaal but had second thoughts and hid it in his room. It shows up in the colony solely because Orin found it there post-stabbing and brought it to Moonrise to taunt Gortash with, and left it in that room in the colony out of a moment of carelessness.

Gortash never ended up seeing it before Tavias found it again, recognised his own handwriting, and promptly had a panic attack at the implications.

3. Balthazar is an infamous necromancer and has extended his 'life' far beyond what should've been. What did Durge think of him?

The man has a sense of style, no doubt there, but Tavias doesn't like him at all personally. Necromancy certainly has its uses, but when it's used to prevent or even reverse death? Yeah that shit's not okay with Bhaal. He also got the impression that Balthazar personally thought little of him, and given how patronising Balth is about Tavias in his notes about Kressa's preoccupation with Tavias, he entirely correct.

4. The Warden hates Durge. Why? What did they do?

Swanned in like he owned the place. Mentioned offhandedly that if she wanted a professional to take care of the prisoners, he would be willing to give her a few pointers. Stared a little too intently at her.

5. The Worgs in Gortash's warehouse, what's the story behind them?

Just security, I think! I don't think Tavias was super involved in all of Gortash's plans, so he may not have even realised they were there.

6. Minsc is quite infamous, did Durge have a hand in the disappearance of his statue? Was it originally their plan or did Orin do something successfully by herself for once? How would your past life Durge react to it?

It was his idea, yeah. Minsc was a known enemy to Bhaalspawn, and he wanted to make sure he could get control of at least one possible obstacle by tadpoling him. If he had been able to find Jaheira, he would have done the same to her. Of course, Jaheira ends up adopting him and Minsc ends up his uncle, so… works out in the end!

7. If your pre-lobotomy Durge could say anything to your post-lobotomy Durge, what would it be?

I think he would be incredulous, but there's enough of the previously sweet kid there that there may also be a bit of envy. He'd openly be angry that post-lobotomy Tavias is rejecting his heritage and his gifts, but there'd be this underlay of, "Why can you do it, and I can't? Do I have to lose myself to be free?"

8. What was Durge's greatest nightmare?

Being cast aside by Bhaal, being told he was irrelevant and useless and unwanted.

9. What do they think of other deities? Especially those of their race or good aligned ones?

Ooh, answered this in an earlier post, will copypaste! "He thinks very little of Bane and Myrkul, considering them the weaker parts of the Dead Three. He has some passing interest in Mystra, although that becomes disgust and loathing after he befriends Gale, is a bit frightened of Lathander, doesn’t have a lot of consideration for Shar other than, “Well, she exists”, although he also ends up pretty disgusted by her after everything with Shadowheart, and is pretty sure Selûne would hate him on instinct but has no negative feelings towards her in return, and is really quite gratified when he’s able to help Aylin." Pre-lobotomy, it's pretty universally a combination of (somewhat performative) disgust and dismissal, and a bit of wariness / fear of those specifically opposed to Bhaal, especially Lathander, Tyr, and Helm.

10. Drizzt is quite famous in Faerûn. Did your Durge have an opinion on the man who betrayed his origins and rose to become a hero?

Drizzt is… a story figure, mostly. Like he knows he exists, but eh, so do a lot of people. Post-lobotomy, I think he'd be a bit more fascinated by him, I can just see him and Astarion starting a mini-bookclub, haha.

11. What would past Durge think of their new companions? Would they like, love, dislike or despise them?

Ooh, don't think he'd like them much XD;; He'd have some passing admiration for Lae'zel's willingness to FIGHT EVERYTHING, but Shadowheart is Suspicious(tm) as a cleric of a different god, Wyll and Karlach both seem too nice and good, and ditto Halsin but with added wariness, since Halsin is an Archdruid and over three hundred years older than him and not to be messed with (whereas he's pretty sure he'd be able to take Wyll and Karlach). He'd be more interested in Gale as a fellow Chosen, but see him more as a cautionary tale on why not to displease your deity or you'll be personally fucked over. I think he'd still find Astarion attractive, but more in a, "I think it would be hot to fuck someone who looks and feels like a corpse" kind of way XD;;

12. What does their handwriting look like?

Generally neat if he's taking time and effort, but when he's stressed, he writes too quickly and often blends letters together. It looks like that on the Prayer.

13. If they could have one modern thing in Faerûn, somehow through magical means or something, what would it be? Luxury toilet paper, a smartphone (no, charger or internet is not included), a history book for research perhaps?

Anxiolytic medication. :)

14. Shoes on or off in the temple? After all it is their home, so what’s their rule? Did they enforce it on others too?

Generally 'on' is advisable for most, given that it's… kind of gory underfoot. Heh. He does occasionally slip off his boots just to, er, enjoy the experience!

15. If they could rewind time to any moment of their choosing once, would they do it? And which moment would it be?

Ooh man rewinding is always a bitch. I feel he'd want to redo his first meeting with Bhaal and compose himself a bit better instead of getting a bit panicky and overwhelmed XD;; Post-lobotomy, obviously, he'd go back and make sure he never killed his foster parents…

Set 7

1. What is the worth of a single mortal life from the perspective of their former self?

"Only the value which snuffing it out gives to Father."

2. How does Durge actually view death? Is it a mercy, a gift, or perhaps just nature's course?

Bhaal's mandate. Something that people should embrace and welcome (be grateful when he murders you, dangit!), because the world is a shitshow and it'd be better off if everyone was dead, him included. Probably… probably fair to say that his views on death are a bit warped XD;;

3. What languages does Durge speak?

Mostly just the Baldurian dialect of Common, little bits of ritualistic Infernal, and a bit of Draconic. He can read and write in Espruar, although his pronunciation of Elvish is woeful (post-adventure, Astarion and Halsin help him out with it, and much to his delight, Halsin is also teaching him Wild Elvish).

4. How old are they when the game begins? Did their age affect them or how they view the other Chosen in any way?

31, although he looks more like early 20s due to his half-elven background. He's definitely the youngest of the Chosen - while Gortash is a reasonable 10-15 years older than him, he sees Ketheric as well and truly over the hill and an old relic who's no longer relevant.

5. What was their greatest display of self-control?

All the times over the last twenty years he hasn't killed Sarevok.

Seriously, if Bhaal had ever given him permission, Sarevok would have been a smear on the ground.

6. Did they ever lose control and what happened when they did?

Aside from one very specific time where he lost control and it ended up with him being eleven years old, holding a kitchen knife, and covered in his foster family's blood? XD;; Oooh yeah, several times. It usually ended with, well, a lot of smears on the ground. He more or less tried to 'ride the wave' and let Bhaal take the wheel, although he didn't absolutely love losing control. It was mostly a begrudging acceptance of, "Well, might as well happen."

7. Being divine and all that might have it side effects. Which one did your Durge have to endure? Did their immunity to poisons perhaps also meant they couldn't use potions or did they have a certain effect on people?

Pluses, +4 charisma modifier. Downsides, -1 strength modifier. Also if he had stayed Bhaal's Chosen he would have been functionally immortal.

8. If they could critique one thing about their father and get away scot-free, what would it be?

He has a few things to say about the downstairs anatomy he had been born with!! Also tbh he isn't entirely sure everything has to end in blood and murder. Like. Like can he maybe keep enough of a supply chain going for cinnamon rolls? Can he just kill, like, 99% of the world? Can he keep Enver alive?

9. Did Durge use utensils to eat or did they decide to embrace the old fashioned way Bhaal intended?

He has perfectly good manners when necessary! As a general rule, he only prefers being covered in the blood and viscera of his enemies, not, like, grease and crumbs from his dinner, y'know?

10. Speaking off, what's their diet like? Do they actually exclusively do the cannibalism bit or can they be convinced to eat normal food?

lmao definitely not exclusively cannibalism. He generally does eat like a normal person! Just that you have to ask pretty delicately just what meat is being served XD;; Has a definite sweet tooth. His favourite drink is Amnian dessert wine, his favourite foods are cinnamon rolls, and he loves fresh fruit, especially grapes. If you're having dessert with him, you're probably good to go!

[zhaoly]

k so I didn't know this before but halsin apparently originally wasn't even intended to be a companion plus he's intended to be part of a poly romance... which is why his mono romance was barely developed??

man how were we supposed to know that :\ but suddenly it all makes so much fucking sense... why his character arc and romance fell so flat and why you can't romance him for so DAMN long. I suppose you're supposed to romance another companion and then bring halsin in to be part of a poly relationship instead and it's not intended that you get to act 3 with no romances--they assume you've romanced another companion already

i'm really damn disappointed that his mono romance is pretty much nonexistent and that his character development is so all over the place. I don't think I'll ever be doing a poly romance because I'm just not into that at all so unless they fix halsin's mono romance guess I gotta live with it

the only other companion who really interested me for a romance was karlach but her story is almost equally nonexistent and apparently she's got bad endings only?! like just kill me man. i want to try karlach's romance but i feel like her story is just... nonexistent, i mean all you do is find infernal iron and go to dammon. there's not even a specific quest arc or challenge for her, you just sort of naturally find the iron during regular exploration.

guess i'll be trying the other romances more out of curiosity rather than desire. like they all have aspects i like but then there's just like one (or two) things that turn me off.

i liked gale initially bc i was like holy shit an alistair/anders lovechild but then he started all that weird mystra stuff and i was like aight im outie. and i was also like wait we're supposed to be able to romance this guy?! isn't he very clearly not over this thing with mystra? i mean dude's gonna blow himself up for repentance or sth

wyll is like... fine i guess but too nice LMAO and i wont lie the dance scene was just like........... not my thing at all. just really not. and i honestly really don't like his devil appearance, i feel bad for saying it bc it's not his fault lol 😭 i liked him way more as a human but then quickly realized he doesnt stay that way for long. i think his story is definitely intriguing with the whole mizora thing and him being the son of the duke but man.

astarion is insufferable lord i can't stand the way he talks. i kicked him right after the nighttime blood sucking scene bc his voice/personality were so grating and i'm just not into the vampire shit at all. he also just like... looks like a creep and the way he talks doesn't help... tbh i think the only way i'll be able to tolerate him is to mod his face he just comes off as a creepy insufferable old guy i'm sorry

i like shadowheart as a companion but not really into her for a romance. her whole utter devotion to shar was also a huge turnoff lmao and for this first run I just decided that my tav wasn't into that. i did make the choice that basically had her turn against shar but i'm like yeah she can be besties with my tav i like that more. I actually really like sh's arc as a close/best friend

couldn't stand lae'zel initially either, left her in the cage after she wouldnt say please since tav is petty like that. found her later and reluctantly went the creche with her and then ended up killing her oops but hey she threatened to kill me first 🤷‍♀️ i'll def take her on future runs but i don't think i'll ever romance her

so like who does that even leave me with?? halsin basically fit a lot of parameters i like in a companion until i played through more of the game and realized that they really didnt deliver with him. i'm sure if i play through these companion quests/romances further in the future i'll warm up more to these characters but my initial impressions were just... not favorable and hey it's an rpg and my tav has opinions! who knows maybe i'll end up loving one of these character romances but rn i'm still lamenting over halsin's utterly lackluster one