#poor Wyll lol
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Wylls face in this absolutely sent me I had to add little subtitles lol
#when the devil you're hunting is right down the road#but these two weird elves won't stop kissing#Also the noises Astarion makes#daddy chill#poor Wyll lol#baldur's gate 3#bg3#bg3 astarion#baldurs gate 3#astarion ancunin#tavstarion#bg3 wyll
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someone wanted to know what the menzoberranzan love trick was andā¦. wellā¦.
(reblog ok & appreciated!!!)
#rink plays baldur's gate#rink draws things#bg3 fanart#bg3 tav#bg3 gale#bg3 astarion#bg3 shadowheart#bg3 halsin#bg3 wyll#bg3 karlach#bg3 lae'zel#bg3#baldur's gate 3#baldurs gate 3#sketch#doodles#draw the squad#poor halsin lol
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Learning to trust people is hard but at least tiddy is soft
#minthara#bg3#nightwarden minthara#baldurs gate 3#nothing could have prepared me for the experience that is minthara I love her so much š#also my durge was doing her fucking best to be good at the beginning#wyll was really turning out to be a good influence on her#and thenā¦there was minthara lol#poor thing didnāt stand a chance#but jaheiras kind of helping to curb both of their murderous tendencies#my art
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Stumbled upon a comic about a couple in a band about to go on stage for a concert. One of them sees the other getting ready backstage and gets so flustered by their beauty they both pause to have a quickie then and there - youāll never guess who it made me think of lol
š very consonance coded!!! I love it omg
The possibilities? Endless.
Jen doing her own makeup and catching Serenaās gaze in the mirror when she comes to get her? Or Jen doing Serenaās makeup and staring at her lips for just a little too long? Applying lipstick for Serena and slowly dragging her thumb against her lower lip??? š„µ The show starts late that night!!!
Serena being nervous for her first couple of shows and Jen pulling her away into a dressing room and dropping to her knees in front of her? She forgets sheās even in a band š
Wyll and Karlach learning not to freak out when Jen/Tav disappear 30 mins before go-time and *especially* not to approach Jenās dressing room during said time š
learned through experience, unfortunately. But Jen always gives the best performances afterwards
Serena surprising Jen with flowers (orchids, perhaps??) backstage before an important show or award show?? All proud and maybe still a tiny bit star struck?? The way Jen would clear her table in front of the vanity and simply shove Serena onto it before devouring her supportive and loving gf??? Stumbling out together all disheveled and breathless, covered in lipstick???
I digress
#sorry this was long lol#Poor Wyll and Karlach tbh#touring with them would be so annoying š
#consonance fic#ask#knightdelt
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As far as Orpheus is concerned, you are already illithid, the Emperor says. Just like me.
Rakha flinches involuntarily, feeling the worm squirm again eagerly in her skull.
This is all too much to take in, too much to process at once.
She has trusted the guardian, all this time - just as much as she has trusted Wyll and Lae'zel. More, at times, for the guardian has brought her moments of serenity, and it was at the guardian's urging that she absorbed the power of further parasites and convinced Wyll and Lae'zel of the necessity.
But it was never to become illithid, never to allow the brain to consume and transform her. It was to escape that fate, to remain in control of herself, to find freedom and vengeance...
"I'm no illithid," she says, her voice suddenly sharp. "And I never will be."
The Emperor shakes its head slightly. "You are already more illithid than you realize," it says calmly. "It has improved you. You seek to reverse an inevitable process - a process of evolution. When I first escaped from the elder brain, I too railed against the change. But the longer I have inhabited this form, the more it has grown on me."
Again it drifts a step closer. "Even if my original body remained intact after I transformed, I would not return to it. Doing so would only impose limitations. As an illithid, I have far surpassed who i ever was before. You, too, should embrace this change."
Rakha shifts uncertainly. Again that strange feeling of conflicted emotion. She trusted the guardian, the woman who guided her from the nautiloid, who brought her this far. This illithid is not who she thought - but it is still that same voice, in the end, that she has trusted.
(She has learned so much in the time that she has traveled with Wyll, with Lae'zel and the others. She has worked so hard to internalize the things they have taught her, to articulate them to herself when the beast tries to drown them out.
"Attack with purpose and savor your kills." There is no purpose to killing the Emperor. Not if it is free of the elder brain's influence. Not if it protects them. Not if it has something to offer them.
The Emperor seeks Gortash's destruction, and the elder brain's destruction, just as Rakha does. It is not her enemy, in the same way that her companions were not her enemies when they first met - because they shared the same struggle.
She has learned all this, has worked so terribly hard to learn to discern between friend and enemy, between those who should and should not be killed.
It is more than her simple desperation for the peace the guardian provided. This is how Wyll would want her to think. How Lae'zel would want her to think.
Isn't it?)
But she doesn't understand what it wants from her now. "I'm trying to avoid becoming a mind flayer," she says curtly. "I thought you agreed to protect me."
"I believe we'll have a better chance of defeating the elder brain if you embrace your latent illithid potential," the Emperor answers.
It knows her very well, this illithid. It knows her practicality and her hunger for facts, for the true nature of the situation. It knows she does not shy from the truth when it is given to her.
"I've been studying you for a while now," it goes on. "I believe I can trigger the next stage of your tadpole's life cycle while continuing to preserve your independence. You have seen what I can do. Imagine yourself with the same strength, the same intelligence. The same devastating beauty."
Another foot forward, drifting almost into arm's reach now. "If you let me... I can evolve you."
Another flicker of hesitation. She does not think this creature lies to her, whatever its other motivations. It has not, so far. And if this too is true - that this is necessary in their victory over those who have hurt them, that it is an advantage she can gain without losing control of herself... perhaps it is worth considering.
"What would that entail?" she asks slowly.
"You would be able to do things you never thought were possible," the illithid answers. "There will be... physical alterations of course. But only partial. You will retain most of your current form." Again that slight cock of the head, watching Rakha's expression carefully. "And you will soon see that the benefits outweigh any perceived loss."
Again she hesitates. "If you can evolve me," she asks, "why can't you stop ceremorphosis altogether?"
"The answer is twofold," it says placidly. "One - I can, but it would kill you, as I told you before. Two... why would I? You have done well with the limited form you have, but you would do far better as an illithid. So... do you wish to evolve or not?"
The question put to her so directly that she cannot evade it any longer. Do you wish to evolve or not?
Does she wish to? No. She wants nothing to do with the illithid worm in her head or the power the Emperor describes. She wants freedom and vengeance, nothing more. But if the Emperor is right - and she believes it, because it has helped her - this is the only way to secure both those things.
"Do it," she says, far more steadily than she feels. "I'd like to evolve."
(A/N: I'm quite mad here actually because I looked at the dialogue files for this conversation, and there's a possibility for Wyll to chime in here. And if you've already previously convinced him that taking the worms was a good idea, he supports you in this choice, which is fascinating to me. "Well chosen," he says. "An accursed advantage, but an advantage all the same."
I actually reloaded a few times to try and get this line to pop up, but it went Lae'zel every time, so either the dialogue is bugged or she gets priority when she's in the party, which I guess makes a certain amount of sense but is still annoying. >.<
I mention this mostly to contextualize my writing decisions in the next two paragraphs and further enforce Rakha's ill-advised decisions. XD )
"Tsk'va!" Lae'zel snaps. "Whatever this ghaik offers you is no gift to you."
Rakha flinches uncertainly, just for a moment, turns her head towards Lae'zel and sees the disapproval in her eyes. But past Lae'zel is Wyll, and he looks terribly troubled, but he meets her eyes steadily - and nods.
It's enough.
"You continue to surprise me," the Emperor says thoughtfully. She looks back and finds that it is studying her with a new light in its eyes that might be respect. "Your mind is truly something special."
For the last time it drifts forward, within her arm's reach. She can smell the strange alien scent of its rubbery skin. "Now - hold out your hand."
Do as it says.
She extends her hand as it instructed, and it mimics the gesture, passing across to her a small, green-tinted tadpole. It is not like the others she has encountered; she can see the power in it, a small glimmer around its body connecting it to the heavy Astral Weave. It hovers just above her palm and squirms expectantly.
But it is not so different, either, from everything else she has already consumed, on the guardian's advice. Just another conduit of ability, and her choice as to which direction it will be turned...
"It wants to evolve," the Emperor says softly. "But it cannot do so alone. It must commune with another."
She looks down at the worm. She feels it tug at the presence already in her mind. The beast in her head struggles to rouse from its sleep, to command her to squeeze the worm into paste in her hand, and then destroy the Emperor as well.
But she has made her decision. She will trust the guardian - the Emperor - again. She will take its guidance, and its power, and she will use it to destroy the people that threaten her and her companions. She will attack with purpose...
Open your mind to the tadpole.
Narrator: A coldness seeps through your veins as the tadpole awakens, its yearning almost unbearable. Your mind is a veritable feast.
Narrator: The tadpole's essence cources through you. Where it touches, your flesh, glands, organs contract and flood with pure thought.
Narrator: You feel... different. Your body has never felt more connected. Your mind present in every flex of a joint or muscle.
She staggers dizzily, her head spinning and throbbing with the change. No, this is not like the other tadpoles at all. Those remained only in her mind, but this... this touches every part of her. For a moment she feels disconnected entirely from herself, and the feeling is terrifying.
Then it steadies. And yes... yes... she can feel the difference.
She is in control. Her body is hers. The beast is quiet - for now at least. Perhaps when they leave the Astral it will begin its battle with her again... but for a moment, this is beyond peace. This is certainty.
She does not like that it comes from the worm. But... she has never felt this way before.
She draws a slow breath in, lets it out through her teeth. Her face feels slightly cold, strange as she presses her fingertips along her cheek. Her vision feels off-kilter and strange too - until she realizes that it is because she can see out of both eyes again for the first time in months.
The Emperor has been watching her with that same, steady, placid intensity. It tips its head forward slightly as she meets its eyes. "You... are... exquisite," it murmurs. "When your allies see what you can do... I hope you'll encourage them to try it for themselves."
It turns away abruptly, moves to the edge of Orpheus's prison and stares into the flickering light of the shield. "But we mustn't lose focus. We need to resume our journey," it says, suddenly businesslike. "You heard the Chosen. The brain has gone to the city, and the army marches to follow. We must not let them reach it. We must find the brain and bring it under our control."
#bjk plays bg3 durge#rakha the dark urge#WELLP THERE IT IS#zenjestrr this one's for you lol#i really do hope this doesn't feel too out of left field#but i've gotten more and more enamored with the idea#that rakha's interactions with the guardian/emperor have all been leading up to this very specific bad decision XD#and then the fact that Wyll ENDORSES IT (in the dialogue files at least)#whoof#interesting setup for act 3 that's for sure#my poor girl looks tore up from the floor up though#eesh
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Honestly, the most evil thing I've done in my DJ Shart origin run is make Wyll kill Karlach and am now dragging him along as he gets to watch all his friends make the worst decisions of their lives.
Like sure, murderhoboing is fun, but can it really compare to making one of the good moral compasses of the game question everything about themselves and what they have stood by and let happen?
#i'm romancing wyll on a nice co-op resist Durge run to make up for this run lol#poor dude#wyll ravengard#Shadowheart#Shadowheart origin#bg3#dj shadowheart#di shart
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Certain story moments in act 3 be like (if this is a fight I'm really not looking forward to figuring out how warlocks work at level freaking 10)
#poor wyll at level 1 with his level 10 friends#astarion is level 2 lol#halsin is level 6#jaheira died at moonrise#bg3#baldur's gate 3
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So. I'm gf and I's first playthrough of BG3 we do not get to know wyll bc unfortunately we got a little kill the fascist hungry at the tiefling camp and didn't realize the other druids were up there slaughtering people while we were killing Kagha's ass. Oops
#Wyll died lol#His corpse was outside when we left Kagha's chambers#I felt so fucking bad though#I just. Didn't think that other things could happen outside while we were fighting her I guess??#I have been loving learning about the tieflings and then walking out and seeing them all massacred.#I was so upset#Especially after I nearly killed my whole party just to save 1 tiefling kid#I almost begged gf to let me roll it back but she really didn't want to lol#Also I'M PLAYING AS A TIEFLING and let me tell you#Poor Tristan will never be okay again after that
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ok anyway i fucking hate mizora lol. i hate how she talks to wyll she is so awful and gross i want to throw up :( all i ask for is a "hunt mizora down in avernus" dlc lol
#chelle.txt#dark urge: agarwaen#we just finished her favor in act 2 iykyk#bg3 spoilers#(in the next tags)#i brought wyll and we popped her out of her pod#and he was like 'ugh another 6 more months...'#and i chose the dialogue option that was like '6 months is a long time... she might find a way to weasel out of letting u go'#and he just looks at my character in surprise and is like 'nah no way the contract binds her. anyway i have you by my side! :)'#CRIES..........#the metagaming / foreshadowing im going to cry this poor man#hes only 24 ššš#thats like my age ššššš#he usually looks older bc of his scars and furrowed brow#and then he gets lines like these and his face lights up and its like šššššš hes so young!!!#ššššš#im throwing up#i need to murder mizora LOL. š
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would love it if my sinuses stopped trying to kill me but anyway today i swear i am going to finally clean up this tavstarion fic with my githyanki wizard šŖš½šŖš½šŖš½
#i like the second half (the smut lol) but the first half is so slow and awkward i hate it!#also want to work on this wyll/durge fic... i finally figured out how i'm going to write the politics more compellingly#and make things even worse for poor wyll š
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And that's another chapter done. My writing beta, aka my nana, is going to read it tomorrow.
This next chapter got some more Astarion and Karlach friendship since I can't just not write more of the two of them.
One friendship that I haven't gotten to yet in the story that I'm excited to explore is that I picture Nulihn in the game is good friends with Wyll. My plan had been to have the fourth party spot be a spot for Wyll and Gale to share, especially since when I beat the game on the same subclass, I just had Gale pretty much the whole time, especially since Rowan ended up becoming good friends with him. (Which I had not been expecting since my first character, who I've neglected since I prefer Durge over Tav, didn't really like Gale much.) Nulihn, however, hasn't had Gale in the party much. I keep just not switching out Wyll lol. I do kind of picture that out of the two, Nulihn would be closer to him. But yeah, so far in the story, Nulihn has only met Wyll, and the situation overshadowed the possibility of making new friends. Also, Wyll doesn't like Astarion for reasons that Astarion doesn't know yet, so I'm planning on having Wyll make an appearance in a few chapters again soon.
#I fear that Gale won't get to shine in Nulihn's playthrough until certain points in Act 3#poor Gale#though tbf my other character that I've been playing is good friends with him and usually has him in the party#the nerds have to stick together for that playthrough lol#but yeah I want to write more Wyll#and like not from Astarion's pov since they have a history of not getting along#for now at least lol#des says stuff
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GINAAA MY GIRL!
Sending you a dadstarion prompt because you already know I LOVEEE your dadstarion content.
How did Tav find out she was pregnant with baby Gale? And how did Astarion react to the news?! Inquiring minds want to know.
To have and to hold.
Such a lovely prompt, my friend! Hope you like it!
Summary: Astarion turned mortal a few months ago, and this is his first-time experiencing illness of any kind. Unfortunately, as soon as he recovers, you start to show signs of sickness as well. Your condition is a bit different from his, though. (For more of this series check out the āDadstarionā section of my master list.)
Tags/Warnings: Dadstarion, domestic af, fluff, talk of illness, talk of vomiting, the mildest of angst with the mostest of comfort, pregnancy, etc.
A/N: I work in healthcare, not law, so I canāt guarantee the legalese is accurate lol.
Word count: 2.3K
-----
āDonāt come closer, darling, Iām disgusting.ā Astarion groans from where you find him one morning, curled up on the bathroom floor.
It had been a few months since Gale of Waterdeep cast Wish, and from that moment until now the retired rogue had been a happy, healthy mortal. There were so many benefits to curing his vampirism that the elf never fully considered one of the major downsidesā¦ illness.
Heād never experienced a malady like this in his life. At least not in the one he could remember.
Itās horrible.
How had his little love or any of his friends endured this, more than once, in the past ten years?
Astarion is quite certain he contracted food poisoning from that questionable slab of salmon he ate at the Blushing Mermaid yesterday evening. He never did understand why you liked eating at that lowbrow tavern in the first place.
You crouch to examine your husband, pressing a soothing hand onto his forehead before running it down to cup his cheek.
āAstarion, my love, you have a fever.ā You murmur, frowning with concern as you push sweaty curls from his face.
āPlease make more obvious observations, dear,ā Astarion gripes as he forces himself to sit up, still clutching his stomach. Gods, the vile churning in his gut is incessant.
Heās about to continue on with his quip, but the sudden urge to be sick forces the elf to shut up and scramble to the toilet. You hear the sounds of violent retching moments later.
āWe are never going back to the Blushing Mermaid,ā Astarion grumbles once the wave of illness subsides. His face is pressed against the toilet; all sense of decorum is gone. The rotten fish poisoning his insides won over any bits of pride he might have been clinging to.
You move to grab a wash rag, dampening it under the tap before kneeling back down by your husband.
āPoor thing,ā You coo, folding the cloth in half before dabbing it against the back of Astarionās neck, hoping to ease the fever.
The elfās eyes flutter closed as he allows you to fawn over him for a moment. And then he groans and flicks his hand, palm faced downward, as if trying to shoo you away. His voice is hoarse when he says, āJust leave me here and go get ready for your meeting, darling. Iāll be fine.ā
āIn sickness and in health, remember?ā You ask, running the cool cloth over Astarionās face, causing him to sigh thankfully at the slight relief, āIāll send word to the other Counsellors to inform them that I wonāt be attending. Youāve never been ill before; I donāt want to leave you like this. Wyll can fill me in later.ā
āYes, āin sickness and in healthā and all that, darling, but those vows also included āuntil death do us partā and I was an immortal vampire when we made them. So you were technically entering that verbal contract under false pretenses, which one could argue means itās null and void. Go to the meeting, itāsāā
Astarion almost manages to finish his rambling legalese before more putrid liquid spews out of his mouth. When heās finished vomiting, he whines again, any bit of stubborn resilience and feeble attempts at selflessness abandoned.
āOn second thought, maybe you should stay here,ā He says, his chest heaving with exertion as he clenches his eyes shut, āPlease tell me you have a spell for this.ā
āUnfortunately not, my love. I only have a spell for curses. Best I can do is half a bottle of Elixir of Health, some ginger-peppermint tea, and a bath.ā You sigh, already crossing the bathroom on your way to the tub. You fiddle with the taps for a moment to start the bath and then begin to pour oils into the flowing water.
āDeal,ā Your husband mutters, peeling off his sweat-soaked night shirt, āBut none of that vile honey you got at the market here in town for my tea; I want the one Shadowheart and Laeāzel sent from Neverwinter.ā
āAnything you say, Lord Ancunin.ā You joke, rolling your eyes at your husbandās fussiness. Heād barely regained his sense of taste a few months ago and already favored upscale ingredients and meals, as if mortal food hadnāt been but ash in his mouth for two hundred years.
The elf glares at your insolence but doesnāt retort; heās too busy trying to keep himself from vomiting again.
*
The following morning, Astarion wakes feeling much better. Practically brand new, in fact. It seems the potion and your strange flower child medicine must have done the trick. He sighs a breath of relief and then rolls to snuggle against you for a few more precious moments. He reaches his arms out and grasps at nothing but air.
The silver-haired elf immediately frowns and sits up. Thatās exceptionally odd. You were not a morning person; you never had been in the ten years heād known you. You always slept in longer than him, even in the wilds. On more than one occasion heād had to lure you out of your nearly comatose slumber with the tempting smells of coffee and breakfast.
Astarion hears you gagging in the bathroom and goes to investigate. He soon finds you clinging to the toilet, practically mirroring how he looked the day prior.
āOh no, little love, do you think you have food poisoning, too?ā He questions, frowning slightly before kneeling down to press his hand against your forehead just like youād done to him, āNo fever, though.ā
You whine, leaning into your husbandās hand before grumbling, āDamn the Blushing Mermaid straight to Stygia! Why do I even like that place, again?ā
Astarion laughs, āIāve been wondering the same thing for years, dear. I hope now youāll finally reconsider. Do you want some tea and a bath?ā
āPlease,ā You say, just before another wave of nausea hits you, forcing you to throw your head into the toilet and gag. Frustratingly, not much actually comes out despite the waves of sickness coursing through your body.
Gods, you wish you could simply vomit and feel relief.
Astarion begins to prepare the appropriate remedies, much like youād done for him the day before. Thankfully, you seem to recover much faster than he did, and by midday you look and feel completely normal.
Good thing, too. You two were out of any elixirs that may have helped you had your ailment been as severe as Astarion's.
āPerhaps Iām just a better healer than you, darling.ā The silver-haired elf teases as the two of you take afternoon tea in the sunroom.
āPerhaps Iām just stronger and more resilient than you, my love.ā You retort, wrinkling your nose in jest at your husband.
He chuckles softly and then presses a kiss to your nose, āAgree to disagree.ā
*
Astarion thinks the two of you are past this bit of bad luck, but when he wakes the following morning, he hears you retching once again.
When the elf finds you in the bathroom, appearing as almost an exact repeat of yesterday, though perhaps a bit worse, his brow furrows.
āDarling, I'm worried now. You look more ill than before. Perhaps we should take a trip to Jaheira? I can head to the apothecary for another Elixir of Health while she looks you over.ā He murmurs gently, extending his hands to pull you to your feet.
You simply nod in agreement, too nauseated to do more than follow your husbandās lead as he slips you into a set of robes and ushers you into the carriage.
*
When Astarion returns to Jaheiraās after dashing out to the apothecary, he finds you sitting at the druidās dining table. The two of you stop whatever hushed conversation youād been having and turn to look at him in unison.
āFeeling any better, Tav?ā He asks, coming to stand by your side before placing a worried hand upon your shoulder. You simply cover your hand with his and nod in response.
āMuch better,ā You say, flashing your husband a small smile. Something about your expression looks hazed, as if youāre stuck in a daydream. Poor thing, you're probably exhausted and experiencing brain fog.
āIām sure youāll be just fine with the teas and medicinals Iāve given you,ā Jaheira assures, her eyes flickering between the two of you. She grins for the briefest moment before falling back into her typical, more serious demeanor.
Astarion swears he feels like something is off, but when he turns to give you a questioning look, youāre the picture of happiness as you sip from your tea cup, finishing it off.
Well, at least youāre doing what Jaheira has prescribed.
āWhat about the Elixir of Health Iāve just purchased?ā Your husband asks, lifting the bag in his hand, āWill that help?ā
āOh, I recommend you keep it for something else. I donāt think Tav needs it for this,ā The druid responds before standing, signaling itās the end of the visit. She was always quite straight forward and lacking in certain genteel social graces, in Astarionās opinion.
āNow if youāll excuse me, I have a meeting with the Harpers.ā
You quickly bid your goodbyes and Astarion helps you back into the carriage, eager to get you back to bed so that you can sleep off the rest of this sickness.
*
Astarion notices youāre uncharacteristically quiet on the carriage ride home. He typically doesnāt mind when youāre in one of your pensive, stoic moods. But this illness of yours had him more anxious than usual and he had to know more about Jaheiraās examination results, if only to ease his own worries.
āDarling,ā He starts, taking your hand in his. But you donāt seem to hear him; youāre still lost in your own little world.
āMy love,ā He says, this time a bit more urgently, squeezing your hand just enough to pull your attention to him, āWhat did Jaheira say, exactly? Did she mention how long this illness will last?ā
āOh, the nausea will probably go on for a few weeks,ā You reply, a goofy, lopsided smile breaking across your face. You cannot stifle your grin at the little secret you know youāll be unable to keep for more than a few moments longer.
āWeeks?ā Astarion questions, his voice pitching up with worry and brows stitching together in concern.
Why in the hells are you smiling? What druid bullshit was in the tea Jaheira gave you?
He folds his arms across his chest, not at all pleased by the lack of seriousness you seem to display. The idea of you being sick for weeks makes his heart hurt and his stomach churn as if heās still sick. He could never stand to see you uncomfortable.
āTav, are you drugged? This is serious. I fail to see what there is to be smiling about right now. Youāre going to be nauseous for weeks and you canāt use an Elixir of Health? Are you absolutely sure Jaheira even knows what sheāsāā
āIām pregnant, Astarion,ā You interrupt, and you cannot help but to laugh at your husband as his mouth hangs open mid-sentence, frozen in shock.
He blinks for a moment or two, otherwise completely still as his brain rushes to process the new information.
When the elf finally regains his composure and finds his ability to speak, he shoots out a flustered, rambled, āDarling, Iā Iām sorry, can you repeat that? Iām not certain I heard you correctly. The road is quite bumpy and the wheels of the carriage are loudā I think they need oilā and the horsesāā
You laugh and firmly grasp your husbandās hand, wholly capturing his attention before murmuring, āYou ridiculous elf. You heard me the first time. Iām pregnant, Astarion.ā
You donāt think youāve ever seen a bigger grin cross your husbandās face.
āTav, darling, Iā gods, just come here to me.ā
Astarionās lips crash into yours, and heās smiling into the kiss as he threads a hand through your hair, intent on pressing you closer into him. A tiny, delighted hum escapes your husband as he uses the kiss to express all the feelings he cannot yet put into words.
When he finally pulls away, he cups your face with his hands and peppers a few more kisses upon your lips.
āIs this your way of telling me youāre happy about this, Astarion?ā You ask, grinning at your husband as he gazes upon you with the most besotted eyes youāve ever seen.
āThrilled, my love,ā He whispers, before pressing forward to kiss you again, trying to convey the depth of his excitement with his affections. He doesnāt let go of you the rest of the way home, almost desperate to cover you in worshipful kisses, each one a little vow of love to you.
You notice he's unusually quiet, but then, heās far too busy smiling and smooching to do much talking.
*
Later that evening, you move to get out of bed and head toward the bedchamber door.
āAh, ah, ah. Where do you think youāre going, little love?ā Astarion calls, already tossing his book aside to follow after you, āWhat do you need? Let me bring it to you.ā
āI just wanted a cup of water, Astarion. I can go getāā You start, but he quickly presses a kiss to your lips, effectively quieting you.
āHush, my love. Youāre still nauseated and youāre carrying very precious cargo.ā He gently chastises as he turns you by your shoulders and steers you back toward the bed.
āYouāre being dramatic,ā You grumble, sitting back down in the bed and wrinkling your nose at your husband.
āPerhaps,ā He agrees, grinning down at you as he gently folds the blankets back around your legs, āBut you knew exactly the type of theatrics you signed up for when you married me, darling. 'To have and to hold, to love and to cherish' and all that, hm?ā
And in that moment, Astarion was certain heād never love and cherish anything more than you.
Nine months later, the little silver-haired newborn he held in his arms would prove him wrong.
#astarion fanfic#astarion x tav#astarion x reader#astarion x you#dadstarion fic#dadstarion#papastarion#astarion x f!reader#astarion x female reader#astarion reader insert#astarion fluff#domestic astarion#soft astarion#sweet astarion#comfort fic#bg3 fanfic#bg3 fanfiction#astarion fanfiction#astarion/you#astarion/reader
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Hi!!! Would it be okay if I requested a worried head cannon for Astarion(Or Wyll or Halsin, Iām fine with any of them) where they lost track of Tav while on a scouting/stealth mission or on the battlefield? Thank you!
A/N: I went with losing track of their Tav on a stealth mission because that seemed the most anxiety-inducingā¦ lol. Poor boys. Sorry, itās not my best, I was rushing :(Ā
ā§ Losing Track of Their Tav on A Stealth Mission ā§
Astarion:Ā
The most likely to panic, even though he swears heād be the last to do so.Ā
Heās running all the worst-case scenarios through his head: youāve been killed, youāve been captured, youāre being enslaved just like he isā¦
Immediately jumps to the worry that Cazador or someone working for him has realized the two of you are together and plans to get to him through you.
He considers getting one of his companionās attention but ultimately decides to continue sneaking in alone. Heās pretty good at sneaking, and the others could screw it up. He canāt leave your fate in the hands of someone klutzy like Gale accidentally casting fireball and alerting everyone to their presence.Ā
If he wasnāt intent on killing anyone in his way, he is now. They mean nothing to him. You mean everything to him. Do the math. You > Them.Ā
Definitely ends up compromising the mission, by either getting seen and alerting everyone or by causing enough chaos and death that people begin to notice. But none of that matters anymore to Astarion, whose only goal is finding you. Of course, if anyone else was to make that mistake, heād chew them out for it. But he canāt see how hypocritical heās being: all he can think about is your safety.Ā
When he finds you, he masks his fear with anger. He calls you an idiot, a fool- every name in the book. He doesnāt intend to hurt your feelings, he just doesnāt like how his affection for you puts him in a vulnerable place. He was terrified of losing you. The fear of that greatly outweighs the fear of the tadpole.Ā
Heāll get you away from there, away from everyone else. He canāt trust the strangers of Baldurās Gate, and he doesnāt want his companions to see him this emotional.Ā
After the two of you are back to safety, and after he finishes berating you, he yanks you into a tight hug, refusing to let go.Ā
You tell him youāre sorry, and that itās over now and you inform him itās okay to let it out. Be prepared for the shoulder of your top to become soaked in tears. Heāll cry into you, telling you in between sobs how you were the first person in forever to see him as an equal. He needs you. You are the only one who sees him. He canāt lose you.Ā
After heās calmed down, heāll try to lighten the mood with a joke. Something about also being afraid to lose his very own privately stocked food source. Of course, you see right through the facade. You let him feed after that comment anyway, softly petting his hair as he does so.Ā
And even though normally while feeding, heād be comforting you, telling you itās alright, that itās almost over- you end up comforting him, shushing him, and telling him the two of you will be okay- youāre not going anywhere.Ā
Wyll:Ā
Probably the most level-headed in his reaction, even if his thoughts are racing like mad. As the Blade of Frontiers, heās learned how to think strategically in most situations. Of course, thatās easier said than done when someone you know and love is personally on the line.Ā
Heās figuring out all the possibilities, working out how likely each one is, in order to figure out which avenues to first explore.Ā
He continues on his own before remembering heās not acting solo anymore. Heāll round back to where the others are stationed, and give them the news. He tells them the missionās priorities have changed, and the goal for now is to find you.Ā
He doesnāt plan on completely abandoning the original job of course. He intends to get right back to business. He can keep both ideas in his head
Tries his best not to blow the original mission while looking for you. Of course, when push comes to shove, heās going to choose you. The mission can be tried again at a later time: he canāt lose you. Heās lost too much in this life to accept having to part with another.Ā
If he has no leads and it's been a while, and heās growing increasingly nervous, he might consider calling Mizora and asking for her help, even though he knows itās going to cost him more years of servitude. Having to work for a devil is much more bearable when thereās someone you love. Heād make a thousand deals if it meant youād stay safe.Ā
Once he finds you, heāll quickly ask if youāre alright, before ushering everyone out. He wants nothing more than to speak to you freely, but he knows right then isn't the time to do it.Ā
After you are safely far enough away, either back at camp, or somewhere secluded, heāll firmly but kindly demand to know what the hell you were thinking, sneaking off like that?! He wants you to know he was worried, dammit! He loves you! Canāt you see how much losing you would hurt him?Ā
Heāll take you into his arms and place a soft kiss on your forehead. You are so precious to him. Please, please, he asks, be more careful.Ā
He vows to be at your side for any future stealth missions. He loves how brave you are, and how much you want to protect him. Just let him protect you in return.Ā
Halsin:Ā
Halsin probably reacts the least because he has the most faith that youāll be okay. He sees you as his savior- a savior of his people, of the grove, of the tieflings- you are the most incredible person to him.Ā
That being said, heās not going to simply do nothing if he thinks youāve run into trouble. You mean so much to him, of course heās going to change courses and instead go search for you!Ā
Heās also going to rope the others into helping him. I mean, heās not forcing them or anything, but he does regroup and tell the others of his concerns. Heās very calm and level-headed, but also quite determined, so the others have few qualms about switching gears and following him.Ā
Heās also the most adept at staying hidden while looking for you, being able to wild shape into an inconspicuous animal like a cat or a rat or a bird. He uses his druid abilities to his advantage, steering clear of confrontation as he makes a beeline to where your scent takes him.Ā
Once he finds you, if you yourself haven't been discovered and taken, heāll stay in animal form, and carefully guide you to a reliable exit. However, if youāve already been caught, be prepared for things to get hairy. (Get it? Hairy?)Ā
He will not hesitate to shift into a big-ass bear and rip peopleās throats out as he carries you on his back to safety. Even though this makes him a much more large and obvious target, heāll do it, if it means keeping you protected. Any hits or damage he can take, he can heal from, all the less pain you have to endure.Ā
He absolutely brings you somewhere outside of the city. He feels safest in nature, and in order to calm down, he needs free-flowing nature, which is hard to come by in Baldurās Gate.
Heās going to squish you- even if youāre bigger than him. Heāll lay you down gently, before resting on top of you, keeping balanced so that you donāt have to support all of his weight. He needs to be close to you, preferably with skin-to-skin contact. He needs your warmth, your smell, the softness of your skinā¦ It centers him and brings him back down to earth.Ā
Heāll voice his worries while simultaneously complimenting your skill. He doesn't want you to feel incapable, but he must let you know how he felt in that moment when he feared you were hurt or worse.Ā
You are his light, you brought him out of the shadows. And he canāt bear to lose you. Please, donāt fade away. Donāt leave him in darkness once more.Ā
...
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#astarion imagine#astarion x reader#wyll x reader#wyll imagine#halsin x reader#halsin imagine#bg3 x tav#bg3 x reader#bg3#hc#hcs
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Something I think taken for granted for "good and heroic" characters like wyll is
How hard it is to be a hero in settings like this in gen. especially a solo hero.
And then u look at will especially at 17, especially after just losing half of your vision, and now being obligated to hunt devils for mizora, and not being able to tell people who you are or why you have magical powers
Wylls life has been extremely difficult.
Hes not "some rich boy." In fact, he tells you himself, he never really was. His father became grand Duke when he was 17. His father was a Duke before that, but his father was born to a poor blacksmith father and he was the youngest of six, so he worked his way up the ranks. Even as son of a Duke and grandduke---ulder was champion of the poorer "mythical middle class" lower city. All nobles and patriars are from the upper city. There's no way wyll wasn't looked down on by the upper city and then held to a certain untouchable standard as the flaming fist brat by the lower city/outer city people
And yet even at being some "rich boy" he excelled thru hard work and dedication, making things into a competition if nothing else, in which despite his Father's unsurpance to power, he still had PROOF he was the most charming, after all, he held the record for most sarabandes danced in a single evening, much to the exhaustion to the good lords and ladies of the courts.
But even so, with this "cushy life" (where he would get into trouble, mind you! Where his father would encourage him to get into fights, who would train him with a rapier, where he would drink in taverns in the lower city at 14 despite being "a noble rich boy" and hand deliver letters from his father to sharess's caress before he ever knew what went on with the pretty men and handsome ladies behind closed doors.)
Have you ever been camping, like experienced the holy shit, Outside of it all? I dont even like leaving the house without my phone. Wyll, 17, traveled all over the sword coast, with one eye, who knows how many supplies.
While wyll laughs off the trauma of it, losing an eye is a real ass disability that affects your motor skills. It can be difficult to do things like cut food at first, and it can take like 6 months WITH THERAPY for everything to feel "normal" again. Now imagine fending off goblins, and minotaurs, with no therapy, no physical therapy, no doctor. Having to navigate the cold of winter, cursed lands, mountains, all by yourself.
Having to learn to use you sword again, this time without your father. Remembering him every time you pick it up. Remembering the way he looked at you every time you face down a "devil." Spitting the words he would later say to you at them. They stink of avernus, they have brought ruin
Wyll dedicated his life to laboring for the people of the Sword Coast. It's not easy. He makes it look fun, because he's so proud of himself and happy to be helping people
But its actually hard and lonely. And it doesn't come easy, even to Wyll, I think. He had to train himself, it probably took him a long time to figure out what he was doing
I dont think wyll is really as inexperienced and naive as people think. Hes been to avernus, he's fought dragons and minotaurs. He's seen terrible things, he's STOPPED terrible things, and he's going to continue doing so, and choosing to do so, with the full knowledge of what that decision means, and the hard work and sacrifice it requires.
he's fully aware of who he is and what he's capable of, and he's extremely brave and strong and competent
Its good to be good for the sake of being good! And wyll does believe in fairy tales. But his dedication to the blade doesn't come because he's misinformed. Is he as experienced and powerful as he thinks he is? No, he's 24 LOL. But he's still done a lot! Has YOUR muse hunted devils thru avernus? Has ur muse even BEEN to avernus?
Wyll ravengard genuinely is improvising half the time---but more important than simply "being" good and wanting to do good----Wyll has the experience, practice and competence in serving a community to actually BETTER and protect communities.
In fandom spaces we often talk about how certain characters are "just so good" but we like. We forget about the effort it takes to actually commit to acts of doing good, the practice and perservance it takes to competently serve the community.
You can give the people the shirt off ur back but u run out of shirts eventually. Wyll has made himself an important resource on the Sword Coast for its safety. And I think we take that for granted bc its a genre staple, but like. He worked really hard. He dedicated himself to this.
He sold his soul, and he kept living and doing good anyway
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bit of thinking outloud but for my current tactician run im doing a special wyll origins playthrough im calling the Evil Wyll Run & itās given me a lot of food for thought about his character (or at least the freedom of psychological movement + exploration afforded to an origin run!)
wyll spoilers abound weāre entering the wyllenium here
wyll always felt a bit underwritten to me - i know thatās partially because there was that big kerfuffle in the 11th hour with changing his whole story and personality on top of having to recast his VA, and frankly hats off to both original VA lanre malaolu & new VA theo solomon for their hard work - both brought tremendous performances, & i sincerely hope mr malaolu was paid well for his work & time even if his voice wasnāt used in the final cut (i would also say warlock as a class itself felt a bit underdeveloped but im 100% OK with chalking that up to me the player not understanding how to play warlock effectively yet lol im more of a fighter barbarian Hit Stuff guy)
but honestly this feeling of being āunderwrittenā combined with a character with a long history of heroism in his pocket made wyll really interesting to me even in my tav playthrough. for all his accomplishments he still feels like a blank everyman, or like heās someone who fully believes heās the main character who doesnāt āneedā to do any extra work on himself - and honestly he feels Very much like he could be The Main Character. once his backstory of the son of the duke was revealed too i immediately got the sense of like, rich boy trying to prove his worth beyond his wealth and status by striking out & becoming that hero, or that Prince Charming. basically that perfect happily ever after somebody. and im of the opinion that you donāt get mixed up with a cambion in the first place unless youāre either the kind of naĆÆve āeverything will just work outā immature that tends to comes with his status as the son of a noble, or youāre hungering for power. depending on playstyle heās very easily both of these things
on the naĆÆve front (ie a good wyll playthrough) if anything he feels very believably immature, & from that perspective the events of the game feel as though theyāre the prequel to the actual start of wyll's story where he finally finds himself & learns what kind of man he really is. we just dont get to see it alas, but i really enjoyed the thought exercise of somebody still grappling with overcoming his own immaturity. he feels like someone who can still grow and that his tale is just beginning
Evil Wyll (meaning any time mizora shows up he drops everything to enact her instruction & hasnt once tried to find a loophole out of his contract) which ive come to be far more fascinated by is someone clearly vying for power, which is interesting because his noble status wouldāve given him all the power he wants had he Played Nice. to me it speaks of someone who wants to be able to take what he wants from life without it being handed to him, which contrasts in a really fascinating way with entering into a warlock pact at all. maybe he thought it was better that it be a decision he made as opposed to nobility given to him by his family ties, maybe thereās still that pollyanna sentiment of āitāll just work out & ill live happily ever after.ā again maybe both. maybe in a sense the fiend, as he calls himself, is a good excuse to shuck off any poor decision he makes or any genuinely heinous thing he does under mizoraās instruction - an identity he uses as power fantasy (and very much in tandem/interchangeable with the blade of frontiers power fantasy) until it means taking ownership for any of his misdeeds, and then a scapegoat.
may be a bit incoherent but im only now hitting act 3 in my origin run & im Really enjoying this difficult characterization ive cooked up for myself lol
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I want to get more used to writing low stakes lil blurbs so please enjoy this, also posted on ao3 under my pseud brewstersbru :) hopefully being able to post it here will bring the perfectionism anxiety down lol
***
Astarion is perhaps the one of the most interesting, irritating, but somehow undoubtedly kind people Halsin has ever observed. Though heād flay anyone who had the audacity to tell him it.
The duties of an Arch-Druid are many, and often arduous in nature, but nonetheless rewarding. And it all boils down to watching, observing, noticing little idiosyncrasies in the people he leads. The people who trust him with their lives and wellbeing. Halsin has become well-accustomed to watching, as any good leader must and it is no surprise that the skill has followed him to where he is now, camping with a menagerie of illithid-infected souls, searching for a cure.
Though, with this aforementioned observational skill, Halsin has gotten the distinct impression that many of them seek quite a bit more than a simple cure. Absolution, freedom, a clearer path forward. It is so often in the words they donāt say, rather than those they choose to reveal. For example, Gale never talks of an āafterā, a concept all of the others seem so enamored with, save Astarion, of course. He simply hums and offers a small melancholy smile when conversation turns to the topic of everyoneās plans after they find a cure. It wasnāt difficult to figure him out, not when Halsin had been paying attention. Gale is convinced that dying is the only way to atone for his sins. To be forgiven.
Halsinās heart aches at the thought; poor child, it is not a sin to wish to be loved. But he digresses.
Astarion, curiosity that he is, had immediately captured Halsinās attention when heād joined camp. On the surface he seemed shallow, and ill-tempered, but Halsin has not gotten this far in life by making quick judgements on a personās first actions after heās met them. Sure enough, heād caught a glimpse of the real Astarion not even two days later.
It had been a long day, brimming with long, arduous battles after which they had all come out exhausted and bloodied. Wyll, with his lionās heart, had fought especially ferociously. Perhaps too much so. His robe was torn horribly across the front and heād had to be propped up as they trudged back to camp, unfortunately neither Halsin nor Shadowheart had maintained enough energy to heal anyone.
Astarion had almost immediately wedged himself under Wyllās arm, curling an arm around his waist while also berating him as they walked. āWhat in the hells were you thinking jumping out like that! Youāre weak, leave the feats of strength to Karlach you dolt!ā And on and on. The words were cutting, and not entirely fair, but still, his hands remained gentle against his friends skin and he walked slowly so as not to jostle his injuries.
Shadowheart- exhausted herself, likely with a beast of a headache after all of the concentration spells sheād been slinging- had told Astarion to shut it, only hearing the words and not the worry behind them. He had obliged- another kindness-as his eyes darted around the scrunched pain painted over her expression and his own expression set in resolve. Still, he performed a pout, and everyone took it for what it was- or rather, what heād wanted them to take it for: Astarion being his usual surly self.
Halsin took it for what it truly was, a man doing his best to aid his friends and keep their spirits high after such a grueling encounter. Heād thought they needed someone to direct their exhausted irritation at, lest they start picking themselves apart instead (something Halsin had noticed, but was unaware Astarion knew of) and offered himself like it was as natural as breathing.
The kindnesses didnāt stop there, either. When they made it to camp heād taken Wyll to his bedroll as the others collapsed onto their own. Rummaged through the camp supplies until he found a potion of greater healing, then did not feed it to Wyll until he was half asleep and delirious.
āMmhā¦ Dad?ā Wyll had murmured, eyes squinted closed as he moved his head around. Astarion had simply hummed and continued feeding him the potion.
For the rest of the night he prepped ingredients with practiced efficiency and left them next to the communal cooking pot for when the rest of the party woke for breakfast. Halsin had needed to trance for a few hours, loathe as he was to turn away from the scene, and when he returned Wyllās robe had been mended, folded and placed aside his head. Astarion was nowhere to be seen. Halsin hoped heād found his way to his own tent for a short trance.
Elves do not need to sleep, this much is true, but even a short trance would have done wonders to refresh and replenish his energy. Astarion had to know that.
Halsin is still unsure what the other elf had done for the rest of that night, but heād emerged from his tent with just as much practiced, haughty vigor as heād always had halfway through breakfast the next morning.
āAstarion! Good morning! Thank you for aiding me in our trek back yesterday.ā Wyll had smiled at him, something warm and molten in his eyes. Astarion simply huffed and waved it off, āWell, dear, someone needed to lecture you about the dangers of heroism. None of these dimwits were going to do it.ā Wyll smiled and the others gave halfhearted protests from where theyād been digging into the breakfast Gale had prepared from the ingredients Astarion had left out for him. There was a sparkle in his eye as he caught sight of them eating it, something almost like pride, if Halsin had to name it.
The others had been dumbfounded, asking around the campfire about who had done it. When no one came forward theyād simply shrugged and taken it to mean that the culprit was too humble to take credit. Besides, who were they to question a miracle such as this. No one asked the vampire if heād done the deed, why would he have? He doesnāt eat food anymore and he doesnāt even really like them.
Itās exactly what he wants them to think. Halsin has to give him points for his dedication to maintaining pretense. Wyll doesnāt mention his robe, but his eyes dart from hand to hand trying to scrutinize any bandages or pricks that might indicate a late-night sewing session. Itās a smart move on his part but Astarion, it seems, is a masterful tailor. His fingers are unbandaged and unbloodied.
Everything carefully thought out and executed. Every kindness meticulously planned and hidden. He truly is an enigma. He would rather his friends believe him selfish and cruel, than see him for the gentle, caring man he truly is.
The kindnesses continue, always carefully implemented so as to erase any and all suspicion that Astarion may have had any part in it. He continues to be outwardly difficult and mean so as to cover his tracks. Halsin can do little but watch, as he always has, that is, until Astarionās little kindnesses eventually and inevitably extend to him, too.
He is not so easily fooled, has seen past the performance that the other man puts on for some reason that he is still trying to parse.
Itās a quiet evening, the battles of the day had been hard, but nothing they were ill-equipped to handle. The shadow curse has been getting to Halsin, though. Seeing his greatest failure in all of itās unbearable misery has been weighing on him. And he knows his struggle is not invisible to his fellow party members. They seem unsure what to do about it, though, seeing as he is a centuries old former Arch-Druid with life experience they could hardly fathom. He enjoys his time at camp but cannot say with certainty that he is truly close to anyone there. Though he wishes to be, he is afraid theyāve placed him on somewhat of a pedestal after his actions in the grove, forgetting that he is fallible and full of emotion, same as them.
He very nearly misses it, when it happens, too caught up in his thoughts to hear the slight shuffling near the entrance to his tent. Thankfully, he doesnāt, and emerges with a small smile.
Astarion freezes at the sound of his emergence, crouched over something small and wooden at his feet. Then, almost as if possessed, his shoulders relax and he looks up with a devilish grin. āHalsin! My dear, I was just looking for you. Some wretched little thing of a child has gifted me with perhaps the ugliest wooden duck Iāve ever had the misfortune of laying my eyes on. And these things are in no way ābeautifulā on a good day. I cannot have something soā¦ distasteful loitering around my tent. You mentioned you liked ducks so I thought it would be of better use here. Otherwise Iām throwing it in the river.ā Itās a lot of words, more than the vampire generally tends to use in casual conversation, as much as he pretends heās an insufferable chatterbox. Thatās the second clue Halsin gets that perhaps thereās more to this than Astarion is telling him. The first being the way he froze, as if he hadnāt been expecting Halsin to be there. āLooking for youā, rightā¦
Astarion stands and nods at the duck on the ground. Itās small, a little misshapen, but itās got hearts carved where itās eyes should be and for some reason Halsin finds that hopelessly endearing. He kneels and cradles the thing gently in his cupped palms.
When he looks up Astarion is grinning at him, still in that sneering performative way he likes to, but in his eyes that shine of pride makes itself known. Halsin likes the duck, itās obvious. And Astarion is proud of himself, but heāll never tell. Heāll never let anyone else be.
The third clue is dripping sluggishly down Astarionās finger, stark and red against his deathly pale skin. Halsin remembers the first time heād whittled. His hands had looked much of the same. He smiles.
āThank you, Astarion. This is very good. Would you like some salve for your hand?ā
Astarionās eyes widen, only fractionally, but noticeable if youād been looking in his eyes. And Halsin had been. Still, his expression shutters and he pastes another smirk on before turning his nose up at the duck.
āThank the Gods, that ugly thing is your problem now. And Iāve no idea what you mean dear, my hand is perfectly serviceable.ā He rushes away with a perfunctory wave, likely to rob Halsin of the opportunity to call him out on his bullshit. Halsin only smiles and cradles the duck. Heād bloodied his hands for this, for him. The surge of affection that washes through him is entirely involuntary but wholly welcome.
Astarion wakes from his trance the next morning to a gift settled gently at the entrance of his tent. Itās a wooden cat, masterfully carved from a dark oak and undeniably beautiful. Perfectly fitting the vampireās tastes and sensibilities.
A note lies beside it in what he recognizes to be Halsinās messy scrawl.
Thank you, Astarion, again for the duck. It thrills and delights me to know that you care. It did make me feel better, you know, and I still have that salve if you need. All you have to do is ask. I thought Iād return the favor, seeing as you do so much for the camp but refuse to let anyone see it, or thank you.
I see you. I thank you.
Yours,
Halsin
#bg3#astarion#halsin#bloodbear#halsin x astarion#halstarion#gale being a wet cat#wyll being dashing and heroic#can you tell im swooning#i care him sm#you guys dont get it like i do#covert kindnesses#astarion is kind of like those cats that look away as they slide food towards you#like āgods ur pathetic but /here/ i guessā#brublurbs
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