#i didn't kill alfira

[kororobus]

i adore my bloodthirsty lizard so much

[omoghouls]

Also- his outfit (the bells are so his companions know where he is because he has a bad habit of wandering off)

[thcdoomed]

also whoops, her fingers slipped.

[telanana]

so I re-rolled my durge bc I wasn't really feeling the goody-goody paladin pairing off with astarion and wanted to see who she'd naturally gravitate toward most (probably gonna be wyll or karlach tbh) and the most unfortunate thing happened. I... got alfira joining my camp literally my second long rest in the game. none of the other party members have even started opening up about their bs so, as far as durge knows, these guys are all normal and she's the one who's Fucked Up. totally switches up the party dynamic from what I had last run and it's honestly amazing.

[echthr0s]

the worst scene in BG3 for me is the one where you're in post-coital afterglow with the Emperor and then his like mindshield or whatever fails for a second and your companions are standin there staring at you with abject looks of horror and disgust. I really did not appreciate that shit at all

[azatas]

astarion: *worst pick up line you've ever heard in your life*

tasi: *at rock bottom* okay fine.

[fandom-geek]

i think the thing that really gets me about pre-canon durge is their absolute sense of duty, and their utter isolation outside of the cult of bhaal.

most of the cultists seem eager to see durge upon their return, and one even says they were the first to feed him flesh. gortash tells them of an exhibition of a bhaalspawn's corpse and another bhaalspawn's creations and durge immediately plans to attack the hall of wonder to recover them. they then apparently entrust said bhaalspawn's corpse to sceleritas fel to "restore" through taxidermy. they deride orin for her artistry with corpses explicitly because "bhaal will never care" and because orin "[does] not understand lord bhaal".

even their infamous prayer for forgiveness is framed around their absolute submission to bhaal's plans, and the crime that requires forgiveness? admiring his rival's chosen. that's one line, and the next three paragraphs are swearing to carry out his plan exactly as they've been told to, all for his forgiveness.

hell, even their room reinforces this. orin has barely touched the place aside from installing her mother's corpse and her manifesto - and that is some of the only decoration. what was it before orin, an empty room with skulls, a bed, a desk, some chests and a wardrobe?

the durge didn't have any semblance of a life outside of bhaal, aside from gortash. and is it any surprise? the only other hint they ever had a life outside of the cult is the flashback of kid durge murdering their adopted family, all thanks to their father's urging.

bhaal even tries to force them back into isolation after they've been tadpoled by forcing them to kill alfira, and then trying to force a durge who resists him to kill their lover. if they continue resisting, bhaal kills them. bhaal will not allow them to have a life outside of him and, if it weren't for jergal, he would've succeeded.

[recitedemise]

What if the wizard ever learned of his effect on her?

What if he learned of his poison, of his unsightly kindness and his most wretched words? He must roil up her insides, sending her sensibilities in a mad revolt, and to do so with the conduct of a killer with the vial...madness, most certainly, how he spikes her drink. He keeps smiling and soothing. Another sip, he would say. She'd do better, far better, to be rid of this befoulment, but her heart and her senses seem to war with her urges. Just another, he cajoles her. Drink what's tender and sweet.

Have your fill of this wizard.

Drain him bare to the bone.

He looks to her, Bhaal's chosen, and relinquishes his chalice when the hour with the fire grows all too cold.

"Oh." A heavy word, lingering in their space as he wordlessly stares. She sounds...distant, Gale thinks, and not a little bit fumbling -- perhaps a lamb in the pewter or confessional booth. He's made to listen closely, a father sat bequeathed with her burden of sins. What's his judgment for his flock? And how's his view on her change? She swallows down her vintage, ache rampant in her words, and in the flicker of the fire that wreathes ablaze her body, she's a vision, a silhouette of pain and grief.

She turns to face him, a tempest of emotion turning on its heel. Gale wants very badly for a drink of his own. Sylmae, watching, is a long pour of sorrow. "Well, intention is all well and good, though I wager the mileage to that would vary should you find yourself surrendering to your urges regardless. Still, I imagine someone devoid of a conscience wouldn't be so...ahem. Forthcoming," he fumbles. "Believe me, I know the compulsion toward honesty that a good drink may bring, and had you no regrets at all, I'm sure it would've made itself known." In fact, he, short on brains, should've felt more afeared.

Succumbing to your instincts and indulging all your needs... Gale struggles, gaze holding, and drops his voice. "It sounds familiar, this ravenous 'appetite' of yours. I wouldn't go so far as to claim your experience as my own, but perhaps I myself might know the burden of nursing one." The both of them walking as two lumbering Armageddons...! Their list of similarities go on and on. "I've no knowledge of this side effect of our illithid passengers truthfully, but it doesn't mean it can't be something else. I'm sure there's something to this compulsion of yours." Then: "It doesn't speak for any Sylmae I know."

     from the corner of her eye, she stole a glance at the wizard. gale dekarios looked upon her with kind eyes. her ill-beating heart retched at the softness that exuded from him naturally. the human possessed a kind soul, burdened with a momentous task from his goddess. perhaps, they weren't too different after all.

     sylmae's skilled hands fell back to her sides, the pads of her fingertips gently pressed into the side of her upper thigh. the silence of the night takes hold for a moment. it took sylmae a few moments before she responded to him again. bhaal's flesh spawn stepped in front of mystra's chosen, her crimson eyes fell to his chalice. only an inch of liquid remained pooled at the bottom of his cup. mae reached for his glass, taking it from his grip and into her own.

     "i apologize if i may ruin the night with what i'm going to say." she apologized, voice quiet for only him to hear. her lips opened to speak, then quickly shut. sylmae bent down to fetch the wine bottle beside their feet and she made quick work to pour gale another half filled glass. "this will help."

     "i . . . truthfully do not know my past. i . . have a tendency to kill and it comes so naturally to me. it feels as if, i have been doing this type of work my entire life. the bard in the camp, alfira . . . i killed her."

     she took a quick swig of the liquor straight from the bottle, hoping the wine would soothe the unholy confession oozing from her guilt ridden lips. the warmth of the wine comforted the whirlwind of unfamiliar emotions that stirred within her.

     "she was such a nice girl; i didn't want to kill her. my mind was not my own that night." as the words left her mouth, her eyes darted to her companion's features. sylmae, unconditioned to personal vulnerability, searched for any signs of emotion from the other. "i promise i have no intention to hurt you or anyone in the party. it could be caused by the tadpole . . . or maybe it's just who i am."

[opuspace]

Being a Halsin fan is....a unique experience in that you're frequently prone towards running into all sorts of taunts and insults from being called "mentally ill" for liking him because people assume you're into his "deviant behavior" to hearing that there's only "7 romances" because he doesn't count, to hearing that he's a sex pest, constant reminders of how players kill him in a feedback or fan thread about him, him being seen as fit for only being left as "Orin bait" by a few Astarion fans (who hate him because they see him as a sex pest) when I'm meanwhile turning Astarion down only to run into Astarion canonically admitting that he sees Tav's denial of consent as a "dire mistake to be corrected":

Or, frequently running into complaints as to why he's there when Jaheira is around for the Druid role (he was around first so it's clear why they're not acknowledging that).

"He's just fanservice that didn't need to be there! Why can't we have Alfira?!"

"We could have had a werewolf instead of him?! Wasted opportunity!" (Fans datamined that and discovered that Helia was dropped long before they added Halsin so it wasn't a toss up between them that fans think)

"He's a cheater trying to get you to cheat!"

Ironically, another fan found a post that not only was this wrong, Shadowheart and Astarion approve of the player sexually harassing a married NPC:

His point and click lines have still not been fixed despite requests to address them for months now.

Requests for more depth from his days in Early Access has not happened.

Pleas to Larian to please fix the writing that has him making fans uncomfortable has only just now been addressed but the damage has been done.

I see all these moments that get other characters amusement and affection while seeing Halsin vilified for stuff that doesn't even happen. I see acknowledgement that Gale's Weave scene was a bug, Wyll's dance scene where you couldn't avoid him trying to kiss you as "not a big deal" (until they were corrected) and I agree, that's exactly what they were: unintended side effects of poorly thought out writing/coding/scripting.

And yet, Halsin's presence has to be justified every step of the way.

There is so little sympathy for this character. So little sympathy for fans of this character. It even feels like Larian wrote him off when their attempt to make him a companion backfired.

I'm not even sure why fans want more romances added when this one ended with such hostility. I'd rather they fix and expand on the current romances like Wyll's, Minthara's and, yes, Halsin's (he does count as a romance).

[baldursgat3]

the people have spoken they demand hurt/comfort and I seek to provide. this one was supposed to be short but it got away from me so instead it's 3.6k

i call this one So You've Fucked Up A Resist Durge Saving Throw

Astarion was in love. He wouldn't admit it, yet, not even to himself, but it was true. You were just so perfect. Gorgeous and funny and sweet and a little bit murder happy but that was all right. He didn't mind. He understood a bit of bloodlust. You were really just so kind to him. You made him feel safe and warm and happy in a way he wasn't sure he'd ever experienced before. It had been so long since he trusted someone like this. So long since he felt loved. He tried to pretend he wasn't but you were so good to him. You stood up for him, you didn't force him to bite that repulsive drow. You kissed him so sweetly and held him without any expectation of something more from him. Fight it all he liked, he was head over heels. Which, of course, made it all the more devastating when you finally turned on him. He should've seen it coming.

Astarion was in love. He wouldn't admit it, yet, not even to himself, but it was true. You were just so perfect. Gorgeous and funny and sweet and a little bit murder happy but that was all right. He didn't mind. He understood a bit of bloodlust.

You were really just so kind to him. You made him feel safe and warm and happy in a way he wasn't sure he'd ever experienced before. It had been so long since he trusted someone like this. So long since he felt loved.

He tried to pretend he wasn't but you were so good to him. You stood up for him, you didn't force him to bite that repulsive drow. You kissed him so sweetly and held him without any expectation of something more from him. Fight it all he liked, he was head over heels.

Which, of course, made it all the more devastating when you finally turned on him. He should've seen it coming.

He was pulled out of his trance by a vague pressure. As he quickly woke up, the world came into focus. You were straddling his chest, eyes wide with an unfamiliar frenzy. A moment later his senses registered and he realized what was happening.

Both of your hands were wrapped around his neck, squeezing with intent. He didn't need to breathe as a vampire, but that didn't stop a strangled gasp from escaping his lips. The suffocation might not kill him, but you were still crushing his throat. It hurt like hell and he was terrified.

Had he done something wrong? Something so wrong that you wanted to kill him over it? He had thought everything was going so well, he didn't understand.

His hands flew to wrap around your wrists as he coughed and sputtered - reflexes he no longer needed but ones that lingered regardless. Despite his best efforts, you were stronger than him, even under normal circumstances, he couldn't pry you off.

You looked borderline feral as you loomed over him, leaning all your body weight into his neck. Was this what all your victims saw before they died? Why were you trying to kill him?

He frantically searched with one hand for the dagger he always kept close by. A new horror dawned in his eyes as he realized you must've gotten rid of it. His legs kicked helplessly out as he tried to scream, only succeeding in making a small, gurgling sound.

All he had left were his hands. He sunk his nails into your shoulders, dragging them down with the intent of doing as much damage as he could. It didn't seem to faze you. He tried to claw through the fabric of your shirt, not finding enough purchase to do damage.

He stared up at you, eyes wide with fear. There was nothing familiar there, only a maddened bloodlust. A shiver ran down his spine as the thought came unbidden. “Is this what Alfira saw?”

You had destroyed the girl so violently, he had honestly felt sorry for her. You had expressed guilt after, though. Said that it wasn't you. Perhaps this wasn't you either?

It didn't matter. He felt as your fingers tightened against the back of his neck, lifting his head up off the ground before slamming it back down with a dizzying crack. This would absolutely kill him.

He really only had one line of defense left. He was so hesitant to use it though, especially if this wasn't you. You crashed his skull into the ground again, tearing a shredded gasp from his lungs. He didn't have a choice.

Despite fighting for his life, he still balked just a touch. Once more he sunk his claws into you, this time aiming for the eyes. Your gorgeous eyes that usually looked at him like he was the only man in the world. He knew he should just try to jam his thumbs into both sockets but he simply couldn't. Instead, he settled for carving deep gashes in your perfect, lovely face. Judging by your reaction, that was enough.

The sound you made as you pulled back, clutching at your right eye was animalistic. A loud, pained howl that instantly woke most of your companions.

Astarion scrambled backwards, clutching at his neck and coughing. His head throbbed, he didn't need to feel it to know his hair must be matted in blood already. The world around him spun as he sat up on his knees.

He saw you lunge towards him, only to be intercepted with a full tackle by Karlach. The whole camp was alive now, people shouting and calling both his name and yours. Did anyone else know that this wasn't really you? Was it really you? Were they going to kill you?

His entire body ached, his head felt like it was splitting in two. Maybe it was. He coughed again, doubling over as he felt the tingle of magic at the base of his skull. He felt Shadowheart’s hand on his arm, heard her say something to him but the healing wasn't enough to quiet the ringing in his ears.

Gale hurled a spell at you and, for a moment, Astarion's heart lurched in his chest. Just for that split second, he was certain they were trying to kill you.

There was no fire or burst of necrotic energy, though. Instead, the magic seized your limbs, pinning you effectively to the ground. Karlach had already done an efficient job of keeping you face down in the dirt but you weren't going down without a fight. You finally stilled though, despite the way your muscles tensed in protest. Karlach finally got off, taking a few steps away as everyone simply stared.

At least in this moment, they weren't trying to kill you. That realization, coupled with the healing from his cleric, finally calmed Astarion's nerves enough for him to pull himself back into the present. Honestly, he almost wished he hadn't.

Despite being held tight by the spell, you still were very active. Whatever in you that was driving this frenzy clearly wasn't stopped by a simple spell. You growled and tensed and writhed like a trapped animal. All the while your gaze was fixed on him. You had to kill him, had to feel his blood on your hands, you needed it like oxygen, you needed it, needed it needed it needed it.

“Well what do we do?” Karlach broke the tense stillness that hovered over your camp. “This is kind of a lot.”

How astute. Astarion finally moved, crawling the few feet that separated the two of you, despite a tepid warning from Wyll. He didn't care, he was certain none of these people would understand what he knew about you. Admittedly, though, he was realizing he didn't know as much as he thought.

“Darling…” He tried, softly. You only snarled in response. Your movement was so restricted, your body twitched and spasmed as it tried to break free of the spell. He could see the way your jaw tensed, he could hear your teeth clacking together as though you were trying to bite him.

In the soft moonlight, he finally got a good look at the damage he'd done. The blood was drying on your face already but he'd carved several deep cuts into your perfect skin. It was hard to tell if your eyes were narrowed in your rage or because he'd injured them.

He could hear the rest of the camp talking behind him. It was a little frustrating, actually. They didn't seem nearly as concerned by your distress as he was. Perhaps they didn't see this as distress.

He tried a few more times to quietly break through to you before Lae’zel entered his view. As much as he wanted to stop her from binding your limbs, he didn't exactly have a better alternative. So far his option of ‘Gently Urge Whatever Is Controlling You To Stop' was not exactly panning out. Perhaps if he wasn't recovering from a severe concussion he might've been able to come up with a better idea.

Of course he volunteered to stay up to watch over you. It really only made sense. He didn't really need to sleep anyway and he was worried sick about you. Besides, he figured Lae’zel knew how to tie a pretty good knot. You didn't seem to be going anywhere anytime soon. Gale had dropped the spell and, despite straining and thrashing against them fiercely, your bonds held strong.

Slowly, and with a good deal of uncertainty, your companions returned to their tents. Suddenly, Astarion found himself alone with you again. He sat nearby, though squarely out of your reach.

Whatever had your mind in it's grip didn't quite seem to care how tightly you were restrained. The idea that you wouldn't break free didn't seem to occur to you, you just struggled and fought and snarled. He kept waiting for you to stop, to calm down enough that perhaps he could talk you down from this but you never did. You just thrashed about until, finally, exhaustion overtook your body and you collapsed.

~*~*~

You awoke to a quiet camp as dawn's first rays struck you. Your head pounded and your vision was foggy. Your limbs felt cramped and sore. Your face hurt and your vision was blurry and… were you laying in the grass? Why were you out here and not with-

Astarion.

Oh gods, oh fuck. The memory of your conversation with Sceleritas hit you like a bull. With a jolt you sat up, tugging against your restraints as you frantically searched the camp for any sign of your love.

You felt your whole body relax as you spotted him standing just a few feet away, basking in the sunlight. Some of the perfect curls near the nape of his neck were stained red and slightly matted together.

He hadn't seemed to notice your shuffling and scrambling. He was alive so… what happened? Oh gods did you kill someone else?

“You're awake.” Oh, maybe he had noticed you. You couldn't read anything from his voice.

“Astarion… are you… okay?”

He finally turned to look at you, his eyes awash with emotion but mostly just sadness. “I'm not sure.” He could've just stabbed you, that probably would've hurt less.

“What… happened…?” You spoke so slowly, you were so scared to know the answer.

Astarion sighed, walking back over to cut you out of your restraints before sitting beside you. “Well, I'll admit, I didn't care for any of it. I'll say that much about this urge of yours.”

You flinched, drawing your knees up towards your chest. “I- I tried to warn you. I was going to wake you up but… I don't remember anything after that.”

“You woke me up, darling, I can guarantee that.” He scoffed, staring at the ground in front of him. “I thought I'd fucked up terribly, you know. I woke up to you trying to choke the life out of me, I had no idea what I'd done wrong.”

Guilt seized your heart and you had to stop yourself from trying to reach out to comfort him. Gods, you were so afraid of yourself. “You didn't do anything wrong…” The words came out as barely a whisper.

He sighed quietly, turning to look at you. “Is this what happened to the bard?” You nodded. “You don't have any control over it?” You shook your head. “It doesn't have anything to do with something I did?” You shook your head again.

It took him a moment, you could watch him running things through that clever head of his. Before you had a chance to worry, though, his face softened. “Come here, little love.”

You fell into his open arms immediately with a soft sob. What had such a wretched creature like you ever done to deserve someone like him? You curled into him, quietly sniffling against his chest as he held you tight.

“I'm not angry.” He whispered, dropping a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “I know what it feels like - to have your will stripped away from you like that.” It was a feeling he wouldn't wish on anyone, let alone the single most wonderful person he'd ever met.

You couldn't help the choked out sob that escaped your lips as you curled up tighter. “It could happen again, though.” You didn't understand this evil compulsion that was able to so thoroughly consume you. You had no way of knowing when it would strike you.

“I'm not afraid.”

“You should be. I am.” Your voice was so fragile. You hated this chant in your head that screamed for his blood. Over and over again visions of his corpse flashed through your mind. It turned your stomach the way your heart fluttered at the thought of holding his lifeless body in your arms.

“Hey.” Astarion's voice pulled you out of the spiral you were beginning to fall into. “Don't get lost on me now, love.” He cupped your jaw, gently turning your head until you were looking up at him.

“We're going to make it through this.” He planted the softest, sweetest kiss on your lips. “You promised me that first, you know. That we would save my mind from Cazador's control. I'm happy to return the favor. We're going to break you free of whatever has a hold of you, my darling.”

It was so sweet. You didn't deserve it. The cruel, twisted thoughts that plagued your mind. The extreme violence you were capable of. You were dangerous, you knew that. He wasn't safe with you. “I'm a monster…”

“No more a monster than I am.” There was a touch of sorrow to his voice, nearly imperceptible. Something about it made this all feel so much more… genuine.

You didn't believe he was a monster, he told you you didn't know what he was capable of. Now here you were, roles reversed and you understood how he felt. He struggled to believe you and you felt the same.

Perhaps you were both monsters. Perhaps neither of you were. Whatever you were, though, it had to be the same. You two were the same. You each knew the other's hunger, understood the agony of losing control of your own body. So many atrocities had been committed by your hands for the will of someone else.

Your hand clutched the fabric of his shirt as you took a few deep breaths. His skin was cold but, still, you felt so warm in his arms. He kissed the top of your head again as he waited for you to gather your thoughts.

“My face hurts.” You whispered, finally, gently playing with the fabric between your fingers. Astarion stilled just a bit at your words, held you just a bit tighter.

He hesitated just a moment too long before answering. “I'm sorry. Can you see all right?”

You hadn't actually noticed, you'd been a little preoccupied with other things like crying and feeling sorry for yourself. Now that he mentioned it, though, things were a bit blurry. You knew there was dried blood on your face, it was probably stuck in your eyelashes.

You brought your hands up to scrub at your face. Only for a moment, though, before a shock of pain shot through your spine. Astarion felt you recoil and only tightened his grip on you further.

Ever so tenderly you brought your hands up to rub at your eyes. The left one was fine, covered with dirt and blood but nothing a good wash wouldn't fix.

The right one ached at even the slightest pressure, though. A wave of panic washed over you. You had already lost so much of yourself with your memories, it was hard enough to cope. The only thing you ever truly knew was how to kill. Losing your vision meant losing your depth perception meant losing your usefulness in combat meant losing the only thing you were good for meant-

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, my love…” Astarion's gentle words pulled you back from the brink of despair once more. His voice was laced with a heavy sadness as he pressed countless little kisses to wherever he could reach.

You were smart enough to put the pieces together. You had attacked him, he was defending himself. The alternative was letting him kill you. You had no one to blame but yourself.

Even still, you couldn't suppress the shaky sigh that betrayed how close to tears you were yet again. “Please- please don't cry, little love.” Astarion held you so tight to his chest as though he were afraid you would try to break free from his arms at any moment.

He couldn't help the guilt that crept up his chest as he clung to you, desperately. He never wanted to hurt you. Gods, hearing the sad little sounds of distress you were making was going to crush him. It was his fault, he hurt you. He could've taken another hit or two, should've taken them. He could've been louder, could've tried to use his legs instead. Could've done anything but hurt you like this.

Maybe it was temporary, maybe you would heal. He had to hope but… what if you didn't. Would you resent him? If he was the reason this wonderful, perfect- well… whatever it was the two of you had. If he was the reason it ended, because he had hurt you, he wasn't sure he'd be able to forgive himself. As it stood, he wasn't sure if he could right now either.

“I'm so sorry I hurt you.” They were words that should've come from his mouth, yet it was your voice.

“Wh- what?”

“I don't know what happened. I know I hurt you, though. You've got blood in your hair, that couldn't have come from me.”

“I thought I got that out…” A sigh of annoyance escaped his lips before he could remember himself. “But-

“Maybe…” You interrupted, as you leaned all of your weight into his chest. “Maybe we just… both be sorry.” There was a lighter tone to your voice. You were trying to brighten the mood just a bit. Even now you were still trying to be so sweet and perfect. It was a shame the undertones of sorrow and guilt betrayed you.

Still, he leaned his cheek against the top of your head, nuzzling his face into your hair. “Mm… I'm very good at feeling sorry for myself.”

You couldn't help a small, teary giggle at that. “I think today is a good day to send everyone else out for supplies. We both need a chance to recoup after last night.” Still making plans for the day, despite all this. Gods he was so glad you had been made the de facto leader. He would've hated it. It was made ever sweeter that you let him attach himself to your hip.

Then he had to go and fall in love, didn't he? It didn't matter that you tried to kill him. Or that whatever it was that had tried to could wrest control from you again at any time. That wasn't you any more than he was Cazador.

You were the person in his arms right now, quietly rattling off a list of supplies the camp needed and who should find them and where. You were so smart, so thoughtful, so kind. He couldn't stand it.

“I love you.” He whispered into your hair, interrupting whatever you were talking about with the smallest gasp.

You stilled in his grip for just a second before you pulled back, just far enough to look at him and not an inch further. “I love you.” Your voice breathless and soft. “So much.”

He pulled you in, closing the small gap between your lips. He had to kiss you and you had no objections. It was warm and soft and perfect. It was almost overwhelming.

He loved you. And you loved him. Now you both said it, it was out there. It felt like a weight lifted off his chest. This ever quiet voice that whispered that you were only using him finally stamped out with just a few soft words.

“I love you.” He whispered again, against your lips. He should've been saying it this whole time. He meant it with his whole heart. No one had ever cared for him the way you have. No one ever captured his cold, fragile heart in their delicate, warm embrace.

“I love you.” You repeated, just as desperate. You had no idea who you were, what you were doing, or what in the hells you were going to do next. You yearned to spill blood endlessly and yet this clever, funny, gorgeous man trusted you enough to love you. Maybe he was a fool but so were you.

I love you. I love you. I love you. The words filled the quiet dawn in between breathless kisses. Said over and over as though they would be forgotten the instant after spoken.

You could've stayed like that for hours. Perhaps you did, you would have no real way of knowing. But time marched ever onwards, your serene moment slipping into the past as the sound of your companions waking cut through the gossamer thin world the two of you had woven.

“Perhaps…” Astarion was the first to speak, though his lips never left yours as he stole more kisses between his words. “Perhaps we should stop.”

With a deep sigh of resignation, you bore the burden of breaking the kiss. Admittedly, seeing the look of adoration in your darling's ruby red eyes was enough consolation to ease the pain. Besides, “We'll have plenty more time once everyone leaves for the day.”

[ejoym]

Did Devlin chose to fuck Halsin when he propositioned? Sorry if you've been asked this before 😅

Dark Urge spoilers ahead and talks about sex.

You’re actually the first to ask! Devlin did sleep with Halsin - but not out of interest in him.

In the past, Devlin leaned heavily on sex as an escape from her murderous dark urges. Having intense sexual experiences helped distract her…at least temporarily.

In the early journey, she slept with Lae’zel and then soon after Astarion. Following Astarion’s confession, she respected his need for a break from sex. It was good for her too because she realized just how much she relied on sex to cope with the urges. The urges worsened especially after entering act 3 when she's bombarded with the revelations that: A) she's a Bhaalspawn, B) she fucked Gortash (often), and C) Orin killed her favorite clown.

...But really she was most afraid of a repeat of the Alfira incident. 

With Astarion’s permission, she slept with Halsin in hopes of taking the edge off. Except... it didn't work. In fact, she felt worse... and remorseful for using Halsin. She broke it off the next morning. I think her and Astarion had a long heart-to-heart about it too. And, ultimately, she reached the conclusion that sex as a tool for controlling her urges was no longer an option. She needed to confront the true source of her problem - Bhaal.

[waffelteufel]

Random Dark Urge stuff that blew my mind because it's so fun (and terrifying) [SPOILERS BELOW]

The Alfira scene came totally unexpected and I was literally sitting there with my mouth agape because I was so used to how cute EA had been

Those moments where the Urge gets to you and your character just suddenly goes >:) like a little evil shit

Those random over the top dialogue options

The way you can literally tell your companions from the start that you are a bit cray cray but they're all just "Ah don't worry about it we're literally killing people every day now. We're all a little evil right now :) Just put in that energy when we need it :)" and when you get to That Scene (tm) with your Love Interest in act 2 they suddenly go "WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME" I DID!!! I DID TELL YOU SFHFSF

THAT SCENE IN ACT2 WITH YOUR LOVE INTEREST... That you can just murder them there?? And you have to roll against yourself? So good

The fact you can try to fucking bite them and sob uncontrollably?? Cinnamon Topography as they say.

You were besties with Gortash!! "I can tolerate Orin. But I liked you". Hello??? I want to be besties with him again???? Gorty let's become Team Rocket please.

Gortash saying that he missed your dark humour or something of the like.

Orin and Durge's rivarly. Slaughter-Kin. Queen...

That lady at the end of act 2 that did horrifying experiments on you and became obsessed?? It was sooo uncomfortable but like in a masochistic way. Fucked up and amazing.

Finding your pod in that mindflayer place and asking Astarion "Humour me Astarion. What does that blood smell like?" "[SNIFF SNIFF] Oh that's you. I can recognize that everywhere lol"

The way Astarion's and your own personal quest mirror each other in a way.

Those dialogue options after you refused to kill Isobel, Nightsong and your Love Interest where it sounds like you are some evil puppy trying to atone for your sins to the most random people, like the freaking circus guy, and going like "I used to be a crazy murderous maniac but I am trying to change my ways <3"

If you get Heal cast on yourself (that high level spell that gives you like 70 HP) you get a mini cutscene in which Durge's mind "knits back together" for a moment and you remember a scene from your childhood. This was so unexpected, I did NOT expect a random spell to trigger story and I loved that.

Realising that you were involved in stealing the Crown from Mephistopheles vault, and that you've been to the Nine Hells before. Finding this out only a little bit after Raphael bitched to you about that lmao.

The fact you're literally playing one of the main bad guys, but with amnesia, and you realise this only in act 3.

[madwomansapologist]

i love everybody because i love you

Meet Kind!Druid!Tav | More Weirdos | AO3

synopsis: It doesn't matter what their first impressions of you were, they certainly did not expect you to be so important in their lifes. And as the days passes, each one of your companions need to understand a simple fact: they love you. They all love you.

warnings: a sequel to that (you don't need to read if you don't want to). song "strawberry blond". companions (lae'zel, halsin) x druid!tav. background cast (alfira, mirkon, scratch, owlbear, shadowheart, astarion, wyll, mizora, karlach, minthara). lae'zel love language is pressing a dagger against your throat. i accidentaly made her somewhat a stalker?? there is a high chance minthara doesn't sound like her because i killed her like two onversations in. if you discover which animated character is my biggest inspiration for this tav i will give you a reward.

In a harsh world, people are supossed to shield themselfs from even the possibility of danger. Is the only rational response to the ambiguity of chaos. What those who crave to survive must learn, what those who deserve to survive must do.

You get stronger, so you won't feel pain. Because to feel pain is to remind your soul that one day your body will perish. To get stronger is to forget about the eventual end. Is to get protected from death itself, even if as just a concept.

When not even death can catch you, you're free. When you have nothing to love, nothing to care about, you are free. That's real strength. To be invulnerable. To have nothing to lose, no one close enough to ever hurt you.

Lae'zel lost the count on how many times you bleed. How many times you fell. Burned, drowned, exhausted in pain. Arrows crossed your chest, swords cut your legs, calloused hands stopped you from breathing.

You're somewhat good at hiding it. How much things can hurt you. When someone disrespect one of your companions, when people blame you for their fates, when you did everything you could and it wasn't enough. It hurts you in a different, worst way. She can see it on your face.

Maybe you could've earned a good end, if the world worked in a different way. A peaceful life, one fit for those who don't aspire greatness. But Lae'zel knew it was only a matter of time until the tadpole took control. She felt it on herself. Saw it on you.

No one would save her, no one would save any of you, but perhaps Lae'zel could. It was an merciful act. To end you first. You failed as a leader, but you tried. Then she'll go to the others, knowing she's brave enough to kill herself after.

She thought you had surrendered yourself to her. That you had come to the same conclusion. A wise druid, after all. Then Lae'zel felt. The cold thread against the base of her neck. A dagger she didn't saw coming.

"Step back," you ordered, voice unaffected. Lae'zel never heard you like that before. She had a dagger against your throat, but you spoke as if you rule the entire world.

"Chk, you think that tiny blade of yours will stop me from free..."

"What I think doesn't matter, but what I know does." Your eyes burned her skin. "You're stronger, I'm faster. I propose you a bet. If you kill me, go on with your plan. If I kill you, that's it. I won't kill them. I won't kill myself. Even if I can, even if I must. You would've died for nothing, forever ignorant if it was the right thing to do."

Lae'zel saw you barefoot at the Emerald Grove, applauding Alfira as she sang. Crossing the river by jumping from stone to stone, talking to Mirkon as if he wasn't a kid but a dear friend. How many times did Lae'zel found a bed shaped of you on the grass right next to where Scratch and Owlbear slept?

A sacreed deer, whose even blood is ever so sweet, howled like an wolf.

Would you turn into a mindflayer out of... stubbornness? Would you let the rest of your beloved party turn into something utterly disgusting, putting in danger all those people you swore to protect, just to prove a point?

Maybe you would. Maybe you wouldn't.

No one died that night.

You intrigued Lae'zel. Before you were her supposedly defenseless prey, and now you are the object of her curiosity. Lae'zel didn't understand you. And she craved to.

So she kept a close eye on you.

You bleed. All the fucking time. You bleed, and you wept. But everytime someone crushed you down, you rose up. For every tear that fall from your eyes, you made sure to smile. You survive, and you keep on doing it.

Strength and weakness merged in the warrior's mind. She knew what strength is, she can smell weakness from afar. Lae'zel was taught everything she was supossed to know.

But you were never the one to fit in old impervious notions.

Lae'zel saw you end a hyena's suffering without flinching, and you trying to hold on the wind when you were about to fall. She heard you helping a bird decorate its nest, and the breaking of a skull of someone brave enough to maim Shadowheart when she was near you.

You yelled at Astarion as he tried to stop you from helping gnomes. Helped Wyll with herbs for his pain after Mizora's trick. Helped Gale with dinner, putting a smile to the usually frowed wizard's face. Gave Karlach her first hug in years.

She saw your every movement. Lae'zel heard you laughing, saw you dancing, watched as you helped your new friends. Sometimes it felt as if you made white lines so she could follow you. So Lae'zel could see you being good, nice, decent. Being you in a way that showed her that no, you would've never let your companions turn into mindflayers. You were bluffing, and she fell for it.

At some point, it started to ache. Anytime you laugh at some tiefling's story, something inside Lae'zel burned. At night, she could picture your smile on her eyelids. When you call her name during battle, yelling instructions that somewhat always end in victory. When you look at her.

She can still see that fire. That same flame that stopped her from killing you right then and there. But diluted, controlled. And still, just as able of burning her entire soul. You have a fire contained within your gaze, and Lae'zel doesn't mind getting burned.

Maybe you're not that weak. And maybe she's not that strong.

She's not watching you anymore. Observing your every move so she can understand your mind. Not a prey, not a walking question mark. Lae'zel is purelly admiring.

For some, you came as a tempest. Slowly, without announce your intentions, your way of being embraced them.

A few flinched, scared of what that meant about them. That by admitting you're good despite it all means they could be good too. Some welcomed it, scared of what that meant about the world. If you're good despite everything that happened, then others could be too. Others chose not to.

But you stroke Halsin as a thunderstorm, just as quickly and fiercly. In such a dark time, you were a lighthouse. A shining light that blind at first, but embraces and comforts.

The grove was in danger, his life could end at any given moment, a goblin camp separated him from the world he worked so hard to protect. But your party helped him, and it gave Halsin the right amount of hope.

You asked him to stay behind, and he did so. Halsin wouldn't be able to control himself, and you didn't need all that attention. He was hopeful, not an idiot. But when Halsin heard screams from the room beside... Knowing that Minthara was there, Halsin couldn't help himself.

A wizard focused on the goblins. As he held them in place, a cleric made sure to end them. But at the other side of the room, the only other druid he saw in weeks had a dagger deep on her chest.

Minthara had you on your knees, her nails digging on the skin of your chin. A burning tiefling didn't knew a way to react that wouldn't end within that same blade slicing your throat. She waited for an order, an instruction of any kind, and Minthara realized that you were leading the rebels.

"Is that your leader?" Minthara looked at the tiefling. Her eyes were numb, bored even, but her grin was sharp. She forced to blade deeper. "A weak druid, barely able of helding a sword? Are you that desperate?"

You should've cried. You should've beg for mercy. You should've do anything, instead of laughing. Minthara glared at you, sure that you were reduced to a crazy, desperate animal. But when you bit her hand, blood staining your chin, you were more of a beast.

Minthara stumbled, and you pulled the blade she left on your shoulder. Blood ran down your side, but that didn't stopped you from rising up. Halsin don't think anything would've.

"Maybe you're right," you hissed. With her dagger on your left hand, you took your sword from the ground. "I'm not a fighter. I wasn't educate to control the Weave. I can't heal a thing. When I can't do something, I find someone that can. Without their help, I would be dead by now."

Halsin came here to act. To help, protect, kill. But all he could do, just like everyone else in that room, was to watch you. To look at your beaming smile, to see the blood on your teath, not even trying not to get blind by it.

"Why would anyone follow someone that professes to be so weak?" She looked at the wizard, a dead goblin at his feet, her brain thinking of all the ways she could defeat your party. "What can you do that give you the right to rule them?"

Your smile seemed to grow wider. "I can beat the shit out of you."

And beat the shit out of Minthara you did.

With a first impression like that, ain't no mistery why Halsin couldn't do anything but to stay with your party. But to go on with you, deafeting the Shadowcurse and exploring Baldur's Gate. But to see you shine, feel your warmth, and let it pull a string on his heart.

At the end, it didn't matter how it started. It didn't matter how much they fought the thought back. If they lied to themselfs, made you a villain on their minds, welcomed you with open arms.

You have their hearts. Simply as it can be. You have their hearts.

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

BALDUR'S GATE 3 TAGLIST: @citrusbunnies

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[dracobrooklyn]

Durge x Reader Part 2

When you really like the design of the Cannon DragonBorn and his voice is like butter making you melt. I was sad you can't romance him and your the playable character instead. So Here I am going to write Headcannons of what if he was a romanceable NPC that was in your party.These are my thoughts taking bits and pieces from the Cannon and putting my thoughts and ideas into Durge.

|| MDNI || 18+ this will contain Themes of Language, Violence, and of course Sexual Content. DO NOT READ!!

Cannon!Durge x Tav!Fem!Reader

This will be in a Fem!Reader POV!!

Word count: 1,237

Part 2: Getting Closer.

TW: Death, the Mention of killing, fantasizing murder, nudity, Smut, and Oral sex.

Durge being in a party after slaying the Goblins and saving the Teifling folk and saving them from the Druids grove (He honestly wish he would have burn their tree down, cause fuck those guys). Everyone seem to be having a good time... well he really didn't have a good time. Shall we list those reasons? Well for one thing, he tried so hard to distract himself trying to block out those images of his nightmare. But the wine wasn't doing anything for him, guess Durge would have to drink at least 6 barrels of wine... but that wasn't happening, the other thing he wasn't a huge fan of being with so many people. People cheering him as a hero! It was nice for at least 2 seconds... but then it got more annoying that each drunk teifling came up to him "You are a hero mate, cheers!". He was trying to find you in all this madness. Some sort of familiarity and safety. But finding you, he saw you talking to Astarion. He was about to step up a little, but he noticed that he was flirting with you, and you seem to like it a lot. Kinda broke his little dark heart.

Deep down Durge wanted to grab Astarion. He wanted to choke him, he wanted to rip him apart, just to see his head fall of his shoulders, just to see him dead onto the ground and rip his intestines out feasting onto him... Durge felt sick all of a sudden, what was that? Why was he thinking that way? He had to get away, he needed air. He needed distraction. He then bumped into a teifling. Pretty little thing, Durge found out her name was Alfira, she talked with him, telling him how brave he was against the Goblins. Asking on what Lyrics she should use for her song... oh she was a bard. fantastic. Durge also noticed you were staring... he looked back at Alfira and even tried at his hand on flirting, just to maybe... maybe make you a little jealous? Even offered to have a one night stand with Alfira. Of course she took it. Leading her away from prying eyes into the forest.

Durge didn't take his time with stripping off his clothes, getting on top of Alfira kissing her, marking her with hickey's and bite marks from his teeth. Gods this was a perfect distraction. A good ol fuck to pass the night. Durge has a pretty good size for his cock and yes, Durge has a knot. He is pretty good in sex, so Alfira did sound like she was enjoying it. How he trailed his nips, and licking towards her breast, to her navel and finally to her core. Tasting her nectar that was glistening on her folds. She did taste divine... but he couldn't help but replace Alfira's face with yours. What would you sound like if he went down on you... what would you taste like? How soft and warm you would be in his claws, how he would made you came into his mouth, into his jaws to taste your sweet release. "jacida nhee kiabil". It was a blur though... he was so lost in the pleasure he became so feral... and once out of his haze he smelled... blood. He shook his head and looked down seeing was the once alive Alfira... dead, with her intestines ripped out all over the place. Durge standing back and even looked down at his hands... oh gods it's on him... did he do that? Panic coursed through his body. What has he done?!! He has to hide the body quick! He did so throwing her down the river watching it float away feeling sick... dirty... fucked up. He wash's himself in the river to get rid of the blood on his face and hands. God he felt sick, he needed to get back to camp, he needed sleep.

Durge of course not being able to sleep, he of course goes to walk out into the night, away from the party. The Nightmares were not helping either. He didn't want to wake you either. He was too busy trying to piece together the images from his images. He did write into the Journal you gave him but it still wasn't making any sense. Until he see's a random stranger appear-- oh god it's ugly! Was it a Goblin? The creature claimed to be your servant. A servant? Wait... was he a prince? Oh no the joke was biting him in the ass now. The creature called himself Sceleritas, a one hell of a butler he puts it. He must know you. He kept calling you by your name Durge. It was nice... he guessed? He had so many questions, he asked a few. Learning where he came from, and was made to guide him and help... murder people? Wait kill people? "That's how I found you, I could smell the Bards dead stench from across the sea!". Oh gods Durge felt sick. He wanted nothing to do with him. Sceleritas was a little sad to see his faithful master dismiss him so soon. But he wanted away... he needed you. You felt someone shaking you awake, looking up from your sleep gaze, you could see Durge's face that was filled with dredge and fear. You asked him what was wrong. He asked if you both could be in his tent to talk... just to help him fall asleep. You agreed of course. Anything for your friend Durge. You guys did talk almost all night, he seemed to calm down. That was good. "So are you and Alfira together?" you asked Durge "What? No we uh... we just uh... had a one night stand is all." Durge replied feeling nervous all of a sudden. "Oh... I was hoping to spend more time in the party but you were gone for me to find you." you said to him. "...I thought you wanted to be with Astarion?" Durge asked "didn't he... offer to give you a good time?" "Oh he did, but I declined him." you said to him "He's not my type." "Oh." Durge was relieved. Thought you didn't need to know that... no. Besides you wouldn't want to be with a... memory loss murderer. No he can't let you find out about what he did no... it would be awful. He lose you in an instant. "Did you want to try and get some sleep?' You asked Durge tilting your head to the side. Durge definitely did blush, the way you looked at him made him feel butterflies in his stomach. Boiling within his very core. He was smitten with you. You rejected the pale elf and you wanted to be with Durge instead. Pride was welling inside him. Maybe he did have a chance... maybe... praying to the gods. "Thank you for the talk." He says to you "I feel more... refreshed, please get some sleep itov." "itov?" you asked him "Was that draconic?" Oh shit "uh yes, it means friend." he lied of course... and you fell for it thank goodness. You left Durge to rest telling him goodnight as you walk back to your bed roll. And Durge watching you leave as he says softly "mel'thurkear." as he curls up to sleep... to try and hope no more nightmares would plague his mind tonight.

Draconic Translation: jacida nhee kiabil- His Sweet Companion. itov-Love mel'thurkear- Goodnight.

[linka-from-captain-planet]

Florrickology, Part 1: The Thong That Launched 1000 Headcanons

My favorite thing to do as a background character fan is to co-opt things that were definitely not meant to be characterization by making them characterization.

Thus, I have looked way deeper than intended into every possible pixel, moment, and mention of my beloved Counsellor Florrick and developed the exciting new field of Florrickology to report my findings.

Obviously the first place I'm going is this fucking dress and how I use it to infer upon her the two sexiest characteristics a woman can have:

Unflinching vanity and a deep-seated, yet subtle, insanity.

This dress is more than a bit of an enigma because... why?

It really stands out because, while Larian gives players plenty of opportunities to sexualize their avatar and their companions, they don't really sexualize NPCs. Most women, like men, are dressed very modestly. Outfits that female NPCs wear are even often much more unisex than the equivalent outfits available to player characters (e.g. tunics that male PCs can wear may turn into tits-out dirndls on female PCs for no apparent reason, but female NPCs wearing the same outfit get a tunic). The only characters who are sexualized are presented as Sexy Characters, like Abdirak or Sorn Orlith or Orin or even Mystra and Mamzell Amira, who also wear this dress.

Mostly.

Florrick, despite being beautiful, a two-time damsel in distress, and a certified MILF, is not presented as a Sexy Character. She's presented as a no-nonsense, somewhat domineering, loyal-and-virtuous-to-a-fault fed. This is the only description of her in the game files (see img description), highlighting these bare-bones characteristics:

So... why? For this character whose appearance truly doesn't matter beyond being eye-catching enough to communicate her importance to the story, who has no even vaguely flirtatious dialogue and no implied sexuality or romance (even with the man she spends the entire game chasing!), and not even a weird torture porn moment which she has ample opportunities... why dress her like this? Why emphasize her body over any other similarly-prominent NPC like, say, Alfira?

My assumption would be that they did it to soften her to the average Redditmod McGamerbro because the story really is better if incels don't kill her for being "bossy"... if they didn't also code her as a middle-aged black woman and give her a custom face sculpt with a prominent nose, large jaw, and non-Western features, all famously accepted with no problematic reaction from this demographic whom Larian doesn't not cater to. In fact, as the #1 Florrickposter in the universe, I often see people say in tags and comments that they didn't even notice how revealing her dress is while playing the game. While racism is definitely at play (plus misogyny, rendering this middle-aged black-coded woman invisible, whereas a younger and white man in the same role would be ALL OVER THIS DAMN PLACE), it also speaks to just how discordant her outfit and explicit characterization are.

Now, this outfit does make a little sense on a glance and I think that's a big part of why it flies under the radar as well: she's important and presumably wealthy, so of course she wears this very posh and expensive-looking dress. She's a wizard (a fact everyone manages to glean on a glance, despite it never being stated and basically never being relevant), so of course she's wearing something obnoxious and purple. From the waist up, it actually looks like a pretty reasonable outfit for a person of her DnD class, social class, and occupation.

It's from the waist down where it gets out of hand.

But first, this isn't even Florrick's original outfit or face (which I'll talk about in another post), or the first iteration of her current outfit. Originally, she wore the ostentatious yet modest feathered peacock dress that eventually ended up on Lucretious (and took the thicc waist with it RIP). According to my research, there was a reason for this: it was too baller for Waukeen's Rest and kept causing crashes, so they had to put her in a less graphically-demanding outfit.

The original peacock dress sent the necessary "I am an important quest giver, engage with me" message, so why not just remove the cowl that was causing the issues? But instead, they changed her outfit entirely, keeping it eye-catching and posh (suitable for a big-city government official), but randomly making it super revealing (strange, for a big-city government official). Further, Florrick got a major va-va-voom upgrade between Sexy Dress v1 and final release, with a new dress model that makes it clearer that the front and back panels are sheer, subtly showing even more skin, and which unsubtly emphasizes her hips and breasts.

Based on extensive academic research using mods, I determined that the dress is what conveys the extra curviness (see img description in the left-most pic) vs her having a custom body sculpt (weak). Further, when viewed from behind, the dress pads out her ass, also making it look bigger and rounder than the standard body type 1 (see img description in the right-most pic).

What's more, if you look closely at the waist seam of the final version of her sexy dress, it looks like they went so far as to skew it to make her hips stand out even more when she takes the cocked-hip stance (which she seems to only stand in) and perhaps draw even more attention to her thong sticking out. Notice how the waist seam is even and straight across in Sexy Dress V1 above, but Final Florrick has it like 2 inches higher on her right, without fabric bunching to explain the different seam lengths. You can also see how the dress subtly pops out farther than her actual hips (and from the side view, over her lower stomach), giving her the impression of curves the standard body type doesn't have. They were very intentional with it.

Shockingly, I don't actually have much to say about her exposed thong in and of itself (it is what it is) except that I think it actually makes the outfit look substantially skimpier because it draws attention to just how high those hip slits are, compared to leaving the area blank so eyes gloss over it (even if that would imply she runs around commando all game). It's a small detail that drives home the overall design.

All this is to say, since this dress is only worn by 4 people* with Florrick being the first you see and by far has the most screen time, and it isn't lootable, it seems this outfit was developed intentionally and specifically to emphasize her body to make her look sexier.

*Florrick, Mamzell Amira (slightly different lower half), a random patriar at Gortash's inauguration named Lady Alia Durinbold, and Mystra

So, this takes us back to the question of 'why'. Why spend all this time and these resources fine-tuning this dress to make it as sexy and flattering as possible? Why put it on a character who has literally no reason to wear such a thing? Why put this dress which is nothing but nonsense on a character who's pretty much only characterized as being no-nonsense??

And this is also where the real tinfoil hattery comes in, as I doubt Larian really meant anything by it aside from creating a hot NPC for players with good taste to enjoy across all 3 acts.

But that's not what this nuclear caliber simp post is about; it's about overthinking shit because I love her and she is a main character to ME.

So, whatever Larian's intention, there's only 1 in-universe reason why Florrick wears this outfit:

She woke up that day in Waukeen's Rest, in the middle of nowhere a full tenday from the city, on her way back from literal hell to deal with yet another crisis, and decided to put it on. And continued to do so every day thereafter.

It's logical that she can't change right after being rescued since the inn is burning down presumably with her luggage in it, but why did she choose that outfit in the first place, considering she was travelling? She's been travelling for months; it can't have been her only clothing. Did she not have a Fist uniform? A pair of leggings? She runs right off after she's done talking; does she hike all the way in and out of the shadow-cursed lands in a thong and flat macrame boots? It doesn't even have any indication of cinches or buttons despite having all the logical seams and it's clearly tailored to fit her bananas hourglass figure, like there's no way she can just pull it on or step into it, so does she have to expend her valuable magic to wear it? Does she take the time to sew herself into it every day instead of sucking it up and wearing *barf* pants??? There are plenty of people around in Act 2 that could and would give her something more practical to wear, even if she did have a good reason to wear her original dress that day in Waukeen's Rest. Yet, she continues to wake up every day and put that outfit on. Even after returning home.

(In my head, the video game convention of every character only having 1 outfit is shorthand for what their "typical" outfit is, and they "really" have a wardrobe of similar clothing. So when I say she wears that outfit every day, I mean she has a couple of similarly-bonkers dresses in her bag and chooses to wear one every day vs something more practical).

So the simp's question isn't what Larian is saying about her by dressing like this, but what she's saying about herself by choosing to dress like this.

Clothing is self-expression. Look at the many analyses of the main characters' outfits. Larian may or may not have really meant anything by giving Florrick this outfit, but just as Astarion's careful mending of his shirt necessarily says something about him and his personality in the universe he lives in, so does Florrick's decision to wear flashy, revealing clothing.

It almost makes no sense... until you think about one of Florrick's explicitly-demonstrated characteristics:

Confidence. Over confidence. Hubris, even.

I'll have more to say about Desiré "Fuck It, We Ball" Florrick and her personality in another florrickology post, but the long and short of it is that this woman is not afraid of shit and sashays into every situation fully confident in her ability to charm or steamroll it to her liking. "She is used to getting her way", indeed. Her epilogue letter betrays a bit of self-doubt, but it seems to have been brought on by her perceived failures in relation to the player character's successes, so likely not her ordinary attitude. Whereas this seems to be her ordinary clothing, since she took it with her to Elturel and back for no apparent reason and chooses to wear it for no apparent reason.

She has nothing to gain from it, no one important to impress at least until returning to the city in Act 3. Otherwise, she's in bumfuck nowhere with her boss-friend and lackeys, or cursed!bumfuck nowhere with her lackeys and a bunch of vigilantes planning a war. While I wouldn't doubt that she has or might be willing to use her beauty and sex appeal to meet her goals (TadpUlder does, curiously, call her a "black widow"; is his tadpole capitalizing on stereotypes--could it be slut shaming her??, or is it referencing things that the shreds of Ulder's mind know she's done?), ultimately, there can't be a tactical explanation because there's nobody more powerful than her around 90% of the time.

She also doesn't flirt with anyone and nobody flirts with her (philistines). She has no mentioned spouse or lovers, nor any implied sexuality at all. The closest we get is Mizora saying "she misses the Duke" after Florrick's ambush in Act 3, the only time anyone implies she's on a crusade to find him because of romantic feelings and not duty, loyalty, and friendship... which means Mizora is probably just talking out her ass and belittling people, as she does.

So, combine self-confidence with the decision to constantly wear a sexy dress that shows off her body for no practical reason, and what do you get?

Balls-to-the-wall, unapologetic vanity.

(If it wasn't clear, when I call women "vain" I think they are objectively correct and this is a compliment of the highest order.)

Sure, maybe wearing this kind of outfit boosts her confidence and that helps deal with this unprecedented crisis and possibly the first self-doubt she's ever experienced, but this is evidently her usual clothing and she isn't usually dealing with those things.

So, she wears this intricate and revealing dress mostly she likes it and how she looks in it. This means she likes that it's revealing. She likes showing skin to literally no end except her own enjoyment.

Notice she doesn't really do her hair (it's shiny and neat, but not really styled) or bother with makeup (she lost the EA smoky eye in favor of a quick swipe of eyeliner). One may think that perhaps she isn't as confident in her facial beauty since she does have unique features, so she calls attention to her body instead, but she's so devoid of modesty that I can't help but assume she simply looks in the mirror in the morning, thinks "no notes" (correct) and moves on to pouring herself into her favorite skimpy dress. She's proud of her natural beauty, and she's not about to cover it all up with goop or fabric!! She never mentions it and nobody who knows her does; she's not trying to stunt on anyone or even attract other hot people.

She's in it purely for the love of the sport and, sexiest of all, herself. This woman doesn't think she's the sexiest creature in any given room, she knows it.

And she knows that being hot doesn't affect her ability to do her job and protect the city she loves. She doesn't have to cover herself up, doll up her hair and makeup, slap on like 400 pettiskirts, etc, to be taken seriously. It's possibly even giving 'malicious compliance'. She commands so much respect that even horny gamers don't notice her entire ass is one breeze away from being out.

The deep-seated, yet subtle insanity part has pretty much already been covered; maybe in her day-to-day life of attending meetings and walking all over everyone in Wyrm's Rock, it's not so impractical, but it's a completely insane thing to wear in any sort of crisis or outdoor adventure. That this woman is willing to risk chafing or being cold (womankind's public enemy #1 and #2) simply for the drip is delightfully nutty. There is not a single moment she appears in this game where this outfit would be reasonable.

She presents herself as a stalwart, serious, determined woman, but then squeezes into a dress so tight and precarious that it knocks off her Fleet of Foot speed boost, for literally no reason aside from being vain and lowkey kind of crazy.

Good for her!

[thecampjuicebox]

To have and to hold Pt. 3 (End)

Pairing: Tav(f) x Gale x Astarion

POV: 2nd person (Reader is Tav)

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Marriage (throuple), smut, fluff, fingering, oral (f receiving), potential game spoilers (mostly just character names)

This is the end of "To have and to hold" as a story, I really hope you all enjoy! It's going to be a long one so I can do this ending justice. Let me know if you want more stuff like this in the future!

Gale paces back and forth nervously, little beads of sweat pooling above his eyebrows. He guides his hands over the front of his pale blue robes, the smooth fabric flattening beneath his trembling fingers. Tonight's the night. And you're late. Astarion rests comfortably against the wall of the temple, fiddling with the end of his coat, soft silver hair jostling ever so slightly in the autumn breeze. He traces the silver filigree around the bottom seem and admires how it sparkles in the light of the full moon. The newly rebuilt Selune temple stands tall at the end of a long cobblestone bridge, the outer edges of the bridge decorated with grand displays of flowers, tall metal arches adorned with moonstone turning the bridge into an extravagant tunnel. It's truly breathtaking, and it still does nothing to calm the wizard's anxiety. Everyone is already waiting inside, bards at the ready. Gale continues to pace. Back and forth, back and forth, mumbling little "Where is SHE"s and "I'm going to kill her"s to himself, earning an amused chuckle from Astarion.

"Calm your nerves, Wizard. She'll be here soon enough."

"Gods, she'd be late to her own funeral."

Quick footsteps thunder towards the two men and Gale whips around at the noise. Karlach barrels towards them, waving her arms. to shoo them into the building.

"Both of you! Inside! Now! She's coming!"

Gale throws his arms up in frustration, grabbing Astarion by the elbow and they rush into the temple. Wyll and Halsin are already waiting at the altar, hands folded neatly in front of them. Gale peeks around the corner to assess the size of the crowd, air catching in his throat when he sees just how many people showed up for the ceremony. The late, and not at all shocking, news of the addition of Astarion to the ceremony didn't seem to dissuade any of the guests. He breathes a sigh of relief and motions to Volo to start the music, Volo excitedly swinging his arms about at the bards. Lutes, lyres, and flutes all play in a beautiful harmony, Alfira singing softly to welcome Gale down the isle first, Astarion following not far behind. They both take their places on each side of the altar, the white haired cleric of Selune, Isobel, exchanging kind smiles with each of them.

You stand outside, large bouquet in your hands, the soft green ivies and hanging bell flowers nestled amongst the Selune's Tears and Crocus flowers trickling towards the ground, contrasting against the pale blue silk of your dress. Your last second dress change was Shadowheart's idea and you couldn't thank her more. Silver filigree and moon symbols adorn the bodice of the dress, silver velvet cloak swaying behind you in the night time breeze. You shiver lightly, wiggling your fingers beneath the heavy foliage of your bouquet. Shadowheart asses you carefully, poking and prodding at the neat plaits of dark hair that encircle your head. You giggle and hold still for her. She carefully places a small moon hair pin in the back of the braids, fixing its position a few times before settling on a spot she agrees with. She smiles to herself, gently stroking your back for a moment before stepping away and mumbling a quiet "Perfect." Karlach takes a small handkerchief from her back pocket and wipes under her eyes, hot tears threatening to stain her cheeks. You poke out your bottom lip and fight back tears of your own, gently reaching up to stroke Karlach's cheek, soothing her.

"I'm just so happy for you, Soldier. You're really doing it. And you look so beautiful."

"Oh! I almost forgot!"

Your head cocks to the side at Shadowhearts sudden exclamation, watching as she pulls a thin silver necklace from a pouch beneath her skirts, unclasping it and bringing it around your neck. A small silver moon pendant with a teardrop cut moonstone dangle rests against your pale skin, sitting snuggly between your collar bones. You gently run your fingers over the cool metal and smile, closing your eyes to savor this moment. It's actually happening. You're about to marry the loves of your life. You truly couldn't be happier now. All of your fear falls to the wayside, doubt being swept away by the autumn wind.

"Onward."

Karlach huffs quietly and moves to the handle of the left door to the temple, Shadowheart following suit to the right. You nod at them both and they swing the doors open, stepping inside before you. You hear the music swell, Alfira singing sweet melodies as Shadowheart and Karlach walk arm in arm down the isle towards the altar. They both settle to the right of the cleric on Astarion's side. Halsin waves to them excitedly, quickly straightening back up when Volo's voice thunders through the temple.

"Esteemed guests, I now present to you, the bride."

You inhale sharply, feeling as though you should hold your breath and you walk forward, breeching the temple doors. The crowd stands. Candles light the isle as you walk, the entire room of friends and family from each side settling their gaze on you. The music softens to an ethereal tune and Alfira simply hums, carefully strumming at her lute. The sights and sounds are enough to bring Gale to tears and he quickly swipes his thumbs under his eyes, Astarion chuckling at him once more until his gaze finally falls upon your frame. He scans your figure and gulps, mumbling a soft "Gods..". His breath catches in his throat, immediately choking him up. The two keep their eyes fixed on you as you walk, your cloak and the small train of your silk dress trailing being you. No goddess could compare to the way you look right now. You smile and blink tears away from your brown eyes, lashes coated in little droplets. Little gasps and coos flutter through the crowd and you approach the altar, Shadowheart reaching out to take your bouquet from you. You carefully hand it off to her and smile, your bottom lip catching between your teeth. She gives you a reassuring nod and you blink slowly. Isobel steps forward, raising both of her hands to instruct the crowd to sit and they obey, little sounds of feet shuffles echoing through the temple room before all falls silent.

"Welcome friends, family, lovers. Tonight we gather under the light of the Moon Maiden Selune to unite these families. Tav, Gale, Astarion, please join hands and kneel before me."

The three of you join hands, Gale capturing your left and Astarion capturing your right. You all kneel on the step of the altar carefully, Astarion and Gale helping to adjust your dress so you don't crumple it beneath your knees. You give each of them a sweet smile before turning your attention back to the cleric. The witnesses at the altar all lower their heads, eyes falling shut as they listen. The cleric sings in an unfamiliar language, raising her hands to the open ceiling of the temple, the full moon shining down on you and all of the guests. You sigh quietly and give Gale and Astarion's hands a gentle squeeze. They return the squeeze and your eyes flutter closed, a sense of calm washing over you while you listen to Isobel’s hymns. Her voice fades out, the room falling silent once more. A cool breeze sweeps through the temple, rustling your hair and cloak, making you shiver. The cleric stares up at the sky, eyes glowing with the bright light of the moon.

"She is with us.. Moon Maiden, hear me. Grant your love and protection over these souls as they unite under your light. Embrace them in your warmth, oh mother. Lead them through darkness, through sickness, through blight. Fill their hearts with your patience. Show them the way. So it shall be."

The crowd quietly mumbles in response "So it shall be". Isobel turns to a small table on the altar, two silver chalices shimmering in the moonlight placed with purpose in the middle of it. Your fingers tremble with excitement in your lovers' hands. The cleric raises the chalice carefully to the open sky, mumbling in the unfamiliar language again before instructing you to stand. You release Gale and Astarion's hands and approach Isobel.

"Moon milk, for protection, abundance, and fertility. Drink, my child. Accept the Moon Maiden into your heart and into your womb. Allow her to guide you. So it shall be."

You accept the chalice from her strong hands, raising it to the sky and mumbling "So it shall be" before taking a small sip of the milk, the cool liquid coating your throat and you sigh. She encourages you to finish the chalice with a small wave of the hand. You oblige, tilting your head back and swallowing the last of the sweet drink. You hand her the chalice carefully and she places a hand on your abdomen, mumbling quietly to herself. Astarion raises an eyebrow. Gale swats at his hand and the vampire grunts quietly. The cleric eyes the two men before tracing the symbol of a moon into your forehead, finally releasing you to join your lovers once more. She then motions for the two men to join her and she raises the second chalice into the air, mumbling a new prayer to the open sky.

"Wine, for protection, abundance, and patience. Drink, my child. Accept the Moon Maiden into your heart. Allow her to guide you. So it shall be."

She hands the chalice to Astarion first. He eyeballs the liquid inside. White wine. Certainly not his favorite. He closes his eyes and raises the chalice to the sky. "So it shall be." Taking a small sip, his body trembles at the taste, the unfamiliar burn making him cough lightly. Halsin chuckles and Wyll nudges his shoulder to shut him up. Shadowheart shoots eyes like daggers in their direction and they turn their attention back to the display on the alter, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Astarion hands the cleric the chalice and she then hands it to Gale, the ritual being repeated exactly the same way. The cleric clasps her hands together and smiles at the three of you, motioning for you to join hands one more and you obey.

"Family, friends, witnesses. By the power of the Moon Maiden Selune, I now declare these three to be wed. You may now share a kiss."

Astarion wastes no time pulling you to him, his lips crashing to yours and the crowd of guests cheers. Volo quickly motions for the group of bards to play "Bard Dance", Alfira strumming happily on her lute, spinning in little circles and dancing about with the others. Gale keeps hold on your hand, impatiently waiting for Astarion to stop the theatrics before he pulls you over to him. He embraces you gently, pressing his lips to yours in a sweet kiss, much less desperate than Astarions. You sigh against his lips and the vampire scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest, a small smirk hanging on his wet lips. Shadowheart, Wyll, Halsin, and Karlach all rush down to the three of you, embracing you in a tight group hug. You giggle, smashed between all of the warm bodies and Astarion groans out loud.

"Gods, you're all too much!"

...

The long and exhausting night of festivities comes to a close, family and friends bidding your their final farewells as they seek the inns for sleep. Halsin throws a drunken Shadowheart over his stocky shoulder and she beats against his muscular back in protest, small hiccups leaving her before she finally gives in and goes limp in his grasp. Karlach stumbles into Wyll, laughing loudly, her bright flames burning a deep shade of purple and she wiggles an eyebrow in his direction. Wyll sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and his index finger. You giggle to yourself, your own wine buzz sending tingles up and down your spine. You eye your new husbands, both seemingly tired of the shenanigans that they've watched all night. The trek to your tower is short, filled with giggles and little kisses, reminiscing about the nights' events.

Astarion scoops your small frame up bridal style once you reach the front door, chucking at the small yelp he earns from you and he carries you past the threshold of the quaint wizard tower, Gale following close behind with your cloak in hand. He watches you both with love drunk eyes, carefully closing the front door behind the group and he tosses your cloak onto the bench below him. Astarion places you on your feet and you smooth your dress down carefully, reaching back to remove the moon hair pin that Shadowheart had given to you. With a swift tug, the pin releases your hair, the thick dark braids on top of your head falling with it and the plaits unravel themselves. You shake your head to further release your hair, the locks falling in perfect waves down your shoulders and back now. You reach your hands up to soothingly scratch at your scalp, sighing in pure pleasure at the relief taking down your hair has given you. Gale moves behind you now, hands resting on your hips, rubbing soothing circle into them as he leans down and buries his face into the side of your neck. He inhales your scent, the perfume you chose for your wedding night standing out to him distinctly. Rose water and orchid, a flowery scent he wasn't used to smelling on you. He sighs against your skin, peppering the area with the softest little kisses. Astarion steps toward the two of you, pressing his torso to yours, his hands resting on top of Gales at your hips. He pecks a kiss to your forehead, leaving a trail of kisses to the opposite side of your neck from Gale and he takes inventory of the knew smell as well. You shudder at the sudden overwhelming amount of sensations, your entire body breaking out in goosebumps. Gales fingers move to your back, fiddling with the corset lacing holding your dress on your body.

"Why don't we.. Get this off."

He tugs at one of the laces, loosening the ties. The dress drapes on your frame and Astarion reaches his hands up to slide the silk fabric down your shoulders, bodice moving down your torso to expose your breasts, nipples already hardening at the temperature change. You hiss at the cold air now assaulting your chest and back, both men making quick work of sliding your dress the rest of the way down your shivering body. Two pairs of lips latch to your skin, Astarion's sucking little bruises on the flesh of your breast while Gale works the side of your neck, tongue lapping at the skin there sweetly. You lean back into Gale, pulling Astarion closer to you, your mouth falling open. The vampire's right hand comes up to grasp at your breast, kneading the sensitive flesh as he kisses and licks on the other, tongue occasionally flicking over your painfully erect nipple. You buck your hips backwards, ass meeting Gale's growing bulge. You groan in excitement, completely unsure of what to do with your hands. Reaching forward needily, you gasp at the front of Astarions coat, fumbling with the silver metal buttons.

"Hm, a needy little thing, isn't she Gale?"

Astarion's honeyed tone makes your knees buckle. Gale nods in agreement, fingers toying with the plush skin of your thighs now.

"I think we should take this upstairs."

Gale lifts you into his arms and begins to ascend the stairs, leaving your wedding dress in the middle of the floor. You lace your arms around his neck, gazing up into his hungry eyes. He looks forward, determined to make it to the bedroom quickly. Astarion follows close behind, sliding his coat off and tossing it behind him, fingers working on the buttons of his silk shirt next. He smirks at you over Gale's shoulder and you eye him carefully, bottom lip trapped between chattering teeth. You let out an audible gasp when Gale suddenly tosses you onto the bed. You sink into the soft pillows and blankets, the smooth fabrics against your naked skin feeling absolutely delicious. Astarion steps behind Gale, helping him remove his coat and shirt, the two men standing in only their leathers now. You peer up at them, arousal burning between your thighs. Astarion steps in front of Gale and traces his fingers around the mark of the orb, earning a shuddering moan from Gale's lips. In a swift motion, Astarion captures Gale's lips with his, his hand sliding up and into the back of his hair. The two men press tightly together, hips grinding into one another feverishly. You groan at the sight. Gods, they're beautiful. Gale pulls away reluctantly and chews his bottom lip, eyes fixed on Astarion's before moving to you, your naked body causing him to salivate. He moves to the bed, reaching down to run his fingers over the soft silk of your underwear. He was surprised you'd worn any at all.

"Off with them."

His tone is commanding and unfamiliar, but you obey him, thumbs sliding into the corners of the fabric. You drag them down your thighs and kick them off. Astarion raises an eyebrow in amusement at the wizard's new found courage, hands resting on his hips.

"I'm impressed, Gale. What else can you do?"

Gale scoffs. Astarion takes a seat next to you on the bed, moving up and behind you so your head can rest in his lap and he strokes your soft hair away from your face. Grinning up at him, you pucker your lips playfully and he chuckles. Gale settles at the end of the bed, fingers tracing lazy shapes into your thighs, a quiet yawn stretching his mouth open.

"Careful, wizard. You'll catch flies."

"Gods I'm so happy I married you, Astarion."

You giggle at their banter and pure joy engulfs you in warmth. This moment is perfect. You are happy. Never did you think you'd be wed to both Gale and Astarion, a fantasy most ladies in Faerun wouldn't dare mutter in public. You feel so lucky. Your thoughts are halted suddenly as Gale slides his fingers up your inner thigh, pressing your legs apart and into the bed beneath you. You gasp loudly at the force of his grip. He smirks up at you from between your legs, brown eyes glowing in the lanternlight. Watching hip lick his lips at the sight of you makes your body weak and you slump back against Astarion, his toned arms pulling you up and into his lap gently, hands pushing your thighs apart for Gale once more. You chew on the skin of your bottom lip, picking little pieces off and drawing blood. Tiny droplets dot your lips and Astarion catches on to the scent immediately, lids lowering. He inhales deeply through his nose. "Mm.. A treat." Your lips flatten into a smirk. Gale sits up on his knees, reaching his fingers out to trace the top of your mound. You hiss and shudder. Astarion nuzzles his nose into your neck, breathing heavily against the sensitive skin there, tongue flicking out to trace the barely healed pierce marks from his last feeding. You obediently tilt your head to the side to expose more of your neck to him. With a quiet groan, he sinks his teeth into your tender flesh and begins to suck, earning a steady stream of crimson. You grasp onto the soft sheets beneath you, pain like shards of glass making you tense until the familiar numbness sets in. You go limp. Gale watches closely, taking advantage of your boneless state to swipe his fingers through your slick folds. You react quickly, hips bucking forward at the new sensation. Astarion pulls away to lick the remnants of your blood from his lips. He grins.

Your legs tremble with excitement and you wiggle your hips, silently begging to be touched again. Gale grants you temporary relief with another swipe, this time lower. He collects your slick on the tip of his finger and spreads it around your clit, rubbing agonizingly slow circles. You mewl in response to the gentle friction, rolling your hips upwards to push against his fingers. He backs off, shaking his head at you and you whine.

"Patience, my love."

"Yes, patience, pet."

Astarion smirks and licks a long stripe up the side of your neck, sliding a hand up into the back of your hair and giving your head a forceful tug back. You yelp in pain, gritting your teeth. The low growl that rumbles in Astarion's chest makes your hips buck upwards and Gale chuckles, fingers meeting your core once more. He circles his fingers around the outside of your clit, dipping down to collect more of the slick that's pooling beneath you now, a puddle forming on the sheets.

"Hm.. So messy. Just for us, Astarion."

Gale groans, sliding a finger into your aching cunt and you cry out into the night air, Astarion leaning in close to your ear to coach you through the sensations. He whispers softly, making your cheeks and chest flush deep red.

"That's it.. So good. So good."

You spread your legs wider for Gale, writhing in Astarion's tight grip. He hushes you, fingers tightening around your tangled locks. He pushes your head forward, forcing you to watch as Gale inserts another finger, pumping in and out slowly, not giving you any time to adjust to being filled by his thick digits. Gale grinds his hips into the mattress and moans at the small amounts of friction his leathers provide. Astarion watches intensely, eyes flicking from you, to Gale, and back again, his own erection straining painfully against his leathers. He reaches a free hand down and palms at his bulge. Gale curves his fingers upwards inside of you, your walls fluttering at the change of position and you melt into Astarion's lap now, moans silencing to strained gasps. Your mouth hangs open. Gods, he's torturing you. The pale vampling behind you releases his grip on your hair, smoothing the tousled locks back into place, his eyes fixed on Gale's hand now, digits pumping furiously in and out of your cunt. That knot tightens in your belly, threatening to snap at any moment. You grind your hips up against Gale's palm and whine his name loudly, hands now resting on Astarion's thighs and you use them as leverage to push yourself up further towards Gale.

Astarion leans back on his hands, perfectly content with watching the show. It's no secret that Astarion finds so much pleasure in watching you be pleasured. Whether it be by him, yourself, or someone else. The sight and sounds alone are enough to completely unravel him. You learned this during your encounter in the Underdark and you think about it often. The way he's comfortable just sitting back and watching Gale touch you. Gale has learned the same habit in the couple of weeks the three of you have lived together before the wedding. A few nights were spent with Astarion between your legs and Gale just watching. Enjoying. Savoring the moment. You always offered to reciprocate, and they both often refuse. This moment is no different.

"G-Gale, I'm so close.."

Gale leans in quickly, the flat of his tongue pressing firmly to your clit, rubbing back and forth against the swollen nub while his fingers continue to pump into your cunt, arousal coating his hand. Your hips find a steady rhythm and you grind upwards, pleasure bubbling, bubbling, bubbling, BURSTING inside of your gut. You gasp loudly, clinging to Astarion's legs on either side of you, riding the tidal wave of your orgasm as Gale continues to lick at you furiously. His fingers slow their motion and he carefully slides them out, your jaw falling open again at the sudden emptiness. Your walls flutter around nothing, swollen clit pulsating. You bring your knees to your chest, curling up into Astarion's abdomen, wanting nothing more than to be simply absorbed by him. He chuckles at the closeness and lies down on his side, tugging your back to his torso. He snakes his arms sleepily around you, Gale following suit to snuggle up to the front of you. Both men hold you and each other tightly, exchanging sleepy kisses and rubbing noses with one another. Your eyes meet Gale's and you mumble softly.

"Is there anything.. I can do? For you?"

Gale shakes his head, hand lifting to cup your still flushed cheeks and he strokes your high cheekbone with his rough thumb.

"Nothing at all."

He smiles down at you and you offer the same question to Astarion. He ponders for a moment, unsure of how to answer. He's never been asked what he wants. Not in situations like this, anyway. He contemplates his options. He could obviously ask you to pleasure him. Get on your knees and let him rut into your mouth, let him use your holes like any other woman that's ever lusted after him. He shakes his head and grins, pressing a loving kiss to the top of your head.

"You've given me the one thing that no one else ever has, my love."

You quirk an eyebrow in confusion, turning your head to face him. Gale yawns, crawling out of bed to quickly check all of the curtains in the room, pressing any two together that he thinks might let in a little too much sunlight in the morning. He smiles to himself once each window is sufficiently covered and climbs back into bed, pulling a blanket up over the three of you. You watch Astarion for a moment before quietly asking.

"And what is that?"

He sighs happily, nuzzling his face into your warm neck, pressing you impossibly close to him. A quiet yawn escapes him and his lids flutter closed.

"A choice."