#some people think a certain ending for Astarion is better than the others

[flashhwing]

I’m here to say that you may absolutely express negativity about veilguard to me as long as it’s not stupid. hate on it for real reasons, of which there are plenty, most of which I’m ignoring because of the hype but would be glad to discuss in a civilized manner. no forced positivity in this zone this is a safe space. unless your criticism is dumb as fuck then I will point and laugh

[kitabasis]

I will admit that Mystra’s design in BG3 is not…amazing. However, I LOVE the fact that it’s a bit uncanny valley. The idea that the gods just fundamentally are so removed from people that when they try to look like them, they inevitably fail because they can’t quite understand what or why tiny details are important to those little mortals, because they’re just so much bigger and they function in such a different way and on such a different scale is a *fascinating* one, especially with the game’s themes about the apathy and carelessness of gods towards humans, even “good” ones.

[ofstardustanddreaming]

curves

headcanon summary: gale dating a curvy reader

content warnings: some mentions of insecurity

fandom: baldur's gate 3

character: gale dekiros x reader

female reader

anon request (thanks for this request, i always love a good body positivity fic!)

gale loves any type of body, don't even try to change my mind around here. when you catch his eye, it feels like his breath has been taken away. he always tries to find the time to get to know you and try to get any indication across that he wants to date you. he always hangs around you and always tries to be your camp partner in various camp activities, or tries to partner with you in various fights across your journey.

he's captivated by your beauty and personality, and he earnestly tries to get your attention, hoping his looks and personality would catch your attention as well. he would always talk about interesting facts he's heard about, and it worries him that he's rambling to you and it's boring you, but when he catches you looking at him with genuine interest, he finds his breath catching in his throat.

both of you have your insecurities that prevent you from asking each other out, thinking the other person couldn't possibly want them. hearing so much about what people had to say about gale's rambling, he was worried that might deter you from his personality, and hearing what many had to say about your body, you were worried he be deterred from your looks.

and it's not to say you look bad! but unfortunately society likes to stick its claws into beauty standards, and it always made you worried about how you should present yourself around people. it made you worried about any lingering looks your way. which is why you were always conscious of yourself whenever gale looked your way for longer than a few seconds or whenever he looked so intently at you whenever you were speaking to each other.

yet, you both still got along very well and you knew that gale was a good friend. and you found yourself wanting more than a friendship after a while, and so did he. you were both just so insecure and caught up with yourselves, your nerves weren't allowing you guys to confess quite yet.

but it's okay, because many members had to witness the two of you dancing around your feelings, and were frankly getting sick of the dance after a while. wyll, karlach, and astarion were hatching their plan to push you together, with some encouragement from halsin, shadowheart, and lae'zel. the latter wanted you together, but knew the previous might be better for the planning and the execution.

but they had managed to concoct a plan to get you to confess to each other, and it was sweet. you both had a private moment in the woods, where gale was showing you a knew trick he was learning, and you finally confessed. "i like you a lot. i'd really like a relationship."

that's what you told him, intently looking at his trick still, to nervous to look at his reaction. but he turns you towards him, his hand drifting down towards your hip. "i like you too and that relationship sounds wonderful. i was certain there was no feelings from your end, i thought my rambling may have gotten to you." he sayid, shyly glancing down and then back at your face.

"oh, i love learning about anything you've learned about. if anything, i thought you may have not been attracted to my body. it's usually the first thing someone has to say in my experience." you feel like you're about to curl into yourself, worried he might agree with what those in the past have said.

"i really think you're one of the most attractive woman i've seen, truth be told. i've found you breath taking since the first time i've set my eyes on you. you've enchanted me, body and all." he says, grabbing you closer by the waist, and you both tentatively kiss each other, which turns into a passionate kiss in itself over the course of the next few minutes.

but yeah, gale is absolutely the kind of partner to listen to any insecurities you may have about being curvier/plus sized. but he will absolutely shut those insecurities down, ensuring that your body size is one of the first things he was enraptured by, to only be sealed by your personality, and he found love in you. which is one of the important things he values, and he assures you your body could not turn him away from finding what he loves. gale is a sweetheart when it comes to building confidence up in yourself. and i won't be hearing otherwise lol.

[istoleyoursk1n]

Hello, I saw your requests are open after I read some of your stuff and wanted to give an idea. One thing I don’t see too often in fantasy is anti-magic types so I’d like to request a Tav that is magically blank. What I mean by that is where everyone else either has magic or is effected by it, Tav can be neither of these. Try to hit them with a lightning bolt? Doesn’t work. Illusions? Doesn’t work. Enchantments? Nah. This makes them a terrifying mage hunter that can go toe to toe with many magic creatures and users. Of course they need to work around not being healed by magic as well. (Choose whoever for the characters!)

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

How would the boys react to a Tav who’s incapable of being harmed by or creating magic?

(If any of you won't see one for the girls, just ask <3)

.

.

: ̗̀➛ ASTARION

“I know I’ve already got the delightfully excellent privilege of looks to me, darling, but damn it all! You’d think those lazing Gods would grant me more than just a dashing face to get me through my troubles too!”

Immediately comes asking how the hell you gained such an ability and if so, how could he get some of that for himself.

He's envious of the fact that nearly all magic seems to have little to zero effects on you. He's far too consumed by the amount of advantages it gives you that he doesn't exactly see the downsides.

I mean, he’s seen you take a fireball to your face and shake it off as if it was nothing. However, the sight of you bleeding out as every magical healing potion and spell does absolutely nothing to aid you ends up being the very thing that makes him wonder if it would be worth it.

But hey! It's rather entertaining for him to watch every foe you encounter gasp in shock when they realize all the magic spells they throw at you do nothing to hinder your each attack.

The funniest thing he saw was someone trying to manipulate you with a charm spell only for you to humiliate them for their obvious attempt.

: ̗̀➛ WYLL

“By the hells, you’re immune to magic? That’s one darn good of an advantage to have, especially on a journey such as ours. Though, it's a shame that you’ll never get to see the delights that come with it, you would have loved it, I’m sure!”

He wasn't all too bothered by the fact you couldn't create magic. Some people lived all their lives without using them and they still made fine warriors, why should he judge you?

However, he was completely shocked when he first watched a lightning bolt strike your body only for you to shrug it off. You didn't even have the burn marks that would have came from it.

After figuring out your little situation, he was both deeply fascinated and impressed. There's no way anything is stopping either of you now, not when you are immune to nearly all types of magic.

Be prepared because this man does start to give you ridiculous titles over your unique ability. “The anti-magician”, “The impenetrable magic consumer”, it gets worse and worse but it's making you both laugh.

Yet, what he does find quite concerning is the number of times he's witnessed your other companions use you as a personal test dummy in terms of magic-based attacks. He’s always quick to grab you out of those situations even though you were mostly okay with it.

: ̗̀➛ GALE

“Immune to magic? Truly? Are you telling me a particularly powerful sorcerer could cast a tremendously potent necrotic spell on you and you’d just... Stand there… with not so much as a bruise? Are you certain you’re from this plane of existence-”

What in the fuck <— His initial reaction lmao

He’s never even seen anything that could resist most if not all magic, even worse that you can't even seem to make it yourslf.

He’s spent the majority of his life so heavily involved with magic and the weave that he could hardly see himself without it, better yet, he doesn't even understand how you live so mundanely.

Heck! Even lower-class citizens could learn magic if not already know how to cast a basic spell or two. Now he has a hundred different questions running through his head and you could probably only answer half of them.

Perhaps he even suspected that you may have just used a multitude of potions of resistance on yourself to turn out this way but if so, the effects should have worn off by now.

Either way, he’s bewildered by you. Intensely interested in how this situation of yours came to be and if there is truly a limit to what magic you can resist. Though, trust that he won't try to experiment on you for himself.

: ̗̀➛ HALSIN

“Ah, though I understand the loss of seizing the art of magic for oneself is rather unfortunate, this only means that perhaps a far more naturalistic path awaits you. One I hope brings nothing but joy and aid in our journey ahead.”

Pleasantly surprised but also curious about it all. When you say all magic do you truly mean all? And if he were to bring a magical flame near your skin, would you feel it's warmth?

Though, he doesn't press on the matter too much. However, there are occasions when he has forgotten about your immunity and ends up shielding you from a magical blast you could have easily taken yourself.

Reflexes perhaps. He’s fairly used to jumping in to protect those he cares for and he does get a tad bit embarrassed over the fact that your magic immunity slipped his mind once or twice due to his own impulses.

Though worry not if magical healing spells or potions don't work on you! He knows plenty of natural ways to heal your wounds. Though it will take significantly longer.

Regardless, he's happy to be of service to you, even teaching you some ways to use herbs and the fauna around you to make a quick remedy to all sorts of wounds so you won't have to ever struggle as much as you did before.

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

[loveofdetail]

three Gale Bad Romance endings that would have been better than "brb":

1. You do ascend together, the both of you! He returns to his beloved, crown in hand, waxing romantic about how it was always gonna be them versus the world, and side by side they go into Elysium... and in the process you lose yourself entirely. The narration compares it to a transformation on par, in terms of self-destruction, with becoming a mindflayer. This also is a dark parallel to Tav and Karlach going to Avernus together: one storyline places you among deities while the other places you among devils, but it's the Hell version where you still have some hope of eventual escape, and the Heaven version where your doom is utterly sealed and you did it to yourself.

2. Epic climactic cutscene of Gale crowning himself and dying in the attempt. Tav is forced to live with the fact that their own blind devotion and/or power hungriness got the love of their life killed with nothing to show for it. I suspect this would have been a VERY unpopular choice on Larian's part. However I am not a coward and I like tragedy. I would have eaten this up.

3. Gale ascends but it changes him and he reneges on his promise to take you with him. Both a parallel to the way Mystra treated him while he was her Chosen, and a parallel to the way ascended Astarion treats his lover. I think this is the ending that the game is trying to lightly imply but imo they did not sell it hard enough. I've seen people say that Gale's power obsession leads him to lose focus on his partner in act 3 but tbh I never got that vibe? Instead I got headlong toxic mutual devotion from beginning to end. So if this was the ending Larian wanted they should have actually shown it, and done a better job at showing Gale growing distant from you in the lead-up to the endgame. If they had done that it would have been a great ending!

And to top it off, what would have been REALLY juicy is:

You never waver in your support of his godhood plan -> you get Ending 1

You express a certain level of doubt in the plan but end up going along with it anyway -> you get Ending 3

[redlittlefoxari]

Astarion Epilogue: An Adventure in Making Life: Chapter Eight: In too Deep in Waterdeep

Relationship: Astarion x Tav

Warnings: NSFW18+, angst, smut, Pregnancy, Fluff.

*This chapter contains Smut*

Summary: Tav and the others finally make it to Waterdeep. Before the whole gang can get back together Tav and Astarion decide to do some shopping and take a bath to wash their travel-worn bodies.

Master List

People who want to be tagged: @lunaredgrave @ofmyth-andmagicart

Twelve weeks pregnant

The following two weeks went by without any incident. You did your best not to blow up at anyone, and the others did their best not to mention your “sickness,” deeming it a sensitive topic. You leaned into the idea more and more and let their imaginations fill in the blanks as to what they thought it was. You gave little details, only ones that would play in your favor, such as, despite being sick, you wished to celebrate your good friend’s accomplishment. You started taking the herbs in front of them to drive home further that you were doing something to “fix your sickness.”

In the last town you passed, you and Astarion bought you some new armor, this time with less padding and with a band around the waist that allowed it to be resized if need be. You had to sacrifice better armor, but that was the price you had to pay actually to have armor at all.

“How are you feeling today?” Wyll found you coming back from the dense bushes as you needed to make a stop.

“Better so far, I’ve been able to keep everything down.” So far today, you haven’t thrown up, but you did feel more exhausted.

“That’s good…. Do you think you’ll uhh….” Wyll fumbled with his words, trying to find a polite way to ask if you would get better or if this was something that would take you from this plane sooner than they all would have wished.

“I think I’ll live. Jaheira said it’s just a matter of time before I feel better. She said maybe by the end of the year.” The lies were coming easier.

“That’s fantastic. How did you even contract this sickness?” Wyll was treading a little too close and asking far too many questions, but with your second trimester only two weeks away, you felt that it was okay to give more information.

“Oh, you know…. On an adventure, Astarion and I had taken us a while to realize what was wrong with me, but we figured it out.” Wyll nodded at your response.

“I’m just glad to hear you will be okay… I don’t know what Astarion would do if he lost you.” Wyll looked to the Vampire who was talking to Karlach.

“Me either but that hopefully won’t happen for a long while I’m only a hundred and twenty.” Wyll laughed at your response.

“Only! You elves really are lucky.”

The two of you walked back to the others, changing the subject to something a little less dire. Both Astarion and Karlach stopped talking and turned towards their respective partners. Astarion kissed you on the top of your head, and you leaned into him as he asked you if you were okay.

“It’s a shame the two of you can’t have children. You would make great parents.” Karlach gave the two of you a broad smile that showed her teeth.

The two of you froze. You tried to keep a look of fear from showing on your face as the group's eyes bore into you two. Wyll elbowed Karlach in the ribs and muttered something under his breath.

“Oh fuck I should have kept that to myself. I’m sorry.” Karlach rubbed the back of her head and looked away, embarrassed and ashamed.

“Yes, we’ll…. We have each other, and that’s all that counts.” Astarion spoke for you.

“Yes, and it’s tough for elves to have children anyway. We only have a certain number of souls, so we have to wait to be reincarnated.” You shrugged. “And we live for so long, so you have to wait for a natural death or a planned one.”

You could cut the tension with a knife. “Let’s get going. we are almost to Waterdeep, and I would like to take a hot bath and lay down on a bed instead of the ground.” Astarion pulled you with him up the dirt road that led to Waterdeep.

The rest of the party followed behind, going the rest of the two-hour walk, giving you and Astarion the space they thought you needed after the conversation about children.

“I will feel way better after the ceremony, and we can tell them the truth.” You whispered so only Astarion could hear.

“I don’t know, I kind of like making everyone feel uncomfortable. It's a lot of fun for me.” Astarion returned the whisper but punctuated his sentence with a laugh.

“I don’t. I feel bad these are our friends. I will be happier not having to keep anything from them.” You let out a heavy sigh.

It didn’t take long, and you could see the city limits of Waterdeep. It was a bustling coastal city that showed like a diamond. The water was crystal blue and had a large port that was the heart of the city. You knew that once you were in the city limits, you should make up any excuse to branch off alone and buy some new clothes since the ones that you brought with you, mainly the pants, no longer fit over your belly. The leather is too tight to give you any leeway.

You and your party walked through the gates, and an apparition of Gale appeared blue in color and slightly translucent. “Greetings, friends! I have sent this apparition to escort you all to my tower, which you will be staying in. If you would be so kind, follow me this way.”

The apparition turned and started walking, which you thought was a little novel since it wasn’t the real Gale and could just float to the destination that it needed to go to next. You giggled slightly at the apparition and Gale for being so literal about everything.

“Umm, hold on a second…” You spoke, and the apparition turned to face you.

“Yes?” It spoke.

“Is the tower that big purple and gold building to the north of the docks?” You pointed to the building in question.

“Indeed it is. Why?” The Apperition’s face mirrored Gales when he was confused.

“Then I think I’ll meet you all there. I want to get a few things before I go to the tower.” The party looked at you quizzically. “It’s just that… this place is warmer than Baldur’s Gate…. The clothes I packed are going to make me overheat in this weather.”

“That makes sense,” Karlach spoke up in your defense. “It is hotter than the hells here, and I should know.”

You sent a silent prayer up to the gods. “Exsactly! So I’m going to take an hour and meet you all back at the tower.”

“I’ll go with you.” Astarion broke from the group. “Someone has to tell you that you look fabulous.”

The others said their goodbyes and promised to see you later at the tower for dinner. You watched as your friends left the two of you alone. Astarion took your hand in his, and you looked at him. The sea air was causing his curls to have more volume and curl more tightly together. He ran his free hand through them to break them apart.

“Let's go to a dress shop… I’m tired of pants.” You looked around and found an outdoor market that had many stalls containing what you were looking for.

“I couldn’t agree more, darling. Plus, you not wearing pants makes it easier to get to all my favorite parts.” He kissed your cheek as it turned red.

“We are not having sex in Gale’s tower. I feel like his creepy apparitions are going to watch.” You started to make your way to the market.

“What are you not into being an exhibitionist? It can be very erotic.”

“I will do just about anything else with you, but I draw the line at having Gale’s creepy walking self-portraits watch us.” You looked up at him.

“I’m going to put that to the test, Darling.” You audibly gulped at his words.

You approached the first stall that had dresses and found that they were all long, beautiful sun dresses that had enough fabric around where your stomach would be to hide the bump that was getting larger by the day. There seemed to be four different styles, and the colors ranged from primarily greens, blues, and purples, with some being just white from not being dyed just yet. You bought two of each dress style in varying colors and one in white. The White one you intended to wear to the ceremony and buy some gold accents that would compliment your slightly tanned skin.

While looking at the other stalls, a few other styles of dresses caught your eye that would do more to show off your bump when you were ready to announce to the world about your soon-to-be half-v vampire child that you would be bringing into this world. These were purple, light blue, red, dark green, and white so you decided to buy one of each color, bringing the total of dresses you bought up to fourteen. That would cover all of the days in Waterdeep, and you would be comfortable because pants would not be involved.

Astarion approved of your choices and not just because there was a slit up the sides of most of the dresses that reached mid-thigh but because he thought you would look good in a burlap sack. The two of you continued to walk through the market when Astarion told you to wait a moment while he went to look at something that caught his eye. You are waiting for him to return, taking the time to sit and rest your tired feet. You were going to take a good, long, hot soak before dinner tonight.

“Close your eyes, darling,” Astarion said as he walked back over to you.

“Why?” You asked, being suspicious of his intentions.

“Just close your eyes, or I’ll go return it.” You did as he asked. “Now give me your left hand.”

You extended your left hand to him and felt his palm touch yours. “What are you doing?”

You felt something cool slide on your left ring finger and opened your eyes to see a beautiful rose gold ring accented with purple stones and small diamonds weaving around it. Words caught in your throat as you looked from the ring to Astarion, who was standing before you.

“Well? What do you think? Do you want to make this official or not?” He turned away from you, and you saw that his cheeks were turning red, and a look of embarrassment laced his features.

“It took you long enough.” You shot up from the bench you had been sitting on and wrapped your arms around his neck, turning his face back towards yours and kissing him deeply.

The two of you started to draw the attention of others around you as your kiss lasted for several seconds. It wasn’t a kiss to burn a fire deep within your bellies and drive passion. It was a kiss that was laced with love, a promise of devotion, and so much more than that. When you finally broke apart to look into each other's eyes, neither one of you spoke; you just smiled like lunatics at each other.

“Let’s go tell our friends you finally asked me the question I have been waiting for these past fifty years.” You looked back at the ring.

“Technically, I never asked.”

“I’m counting this as you did.” You detangled yourself from him, and the two of you started to make your way toward Gale’s tower.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Do you think he’s compensating for something?” Astarion asked as you neared the tower.

“I’m starting to think so.” You answered him in a monotone voice.

The sizeable purple tower was anything but subtle. It overlooked the sea and, for lack of a better word, towered over all the other buildings even remotely around it. The outer walls had fifty windows, and there was one large oak door that was ornamented with gold that made it look like the weave itself was guided to the door.

Before you could knock on the door, an apparition of Gale appeared. “Ah, you finally made it! The door is unlocked to you and all of my guests no need to knock; just come in. Your room will be to the left of the stairs on the third floor of the tower.”

“Thank you… do you guys, umm… watch people in these rooms?” You hesitate to ask, but I'm not sure if it would be considered rude. Or if it was a dumb question.

Astarion laughed. “Yes, do you just pop into people’s rooms unannounced?”

“No, Astarion, I will not be watching the two of you. I'm not an exhibitionist.” Gale spoke through his apparition. “Will the two of you just come in and get ready? Everyone is waiting for you two so we can have dinner.”

“Of course! We wouldn’t want to keep everyone waiting.” Astarion walked through Gale’s apparition, and it vanished.

As he opened the door to the inside of the structure, your jaw dropped. The tower on the outside looked like a lighthouse—a decent size but not overly large. The inside told a completely different story. It was five times the size of what it was on the outside, and you noticed doors along the walls that shouldn’t lead anywhere, but you knew that they did. This whole tower was a paradox.

“He’s definitely overcompensating for something…” You said as you walked towards the stairs and started your accent to your rooms.

“When he brings women home, do you think he asks if they wanna see his purple tower, and they’re disappointed?”

“Astarion stops; he can probably hear you.” You were out of breath by the time you made it to your floor.

“He knows I’m only joking. He did manage to have sex with the goddess of magic… he has to be decent, at least.” He opened the door to your room. “He does have good taste.”

The room was immaculate. Again, you questioned how it was possible for this room to exist. It was an open layout, with the bedroom opening into a giant steaming pool that already had towels, soap, and other assorted perfume bottles.

“He wants us to smell pretty for dinner, it would seem.” Astarion placed your new dresses out on the bed.

You took a long sniff of yourself. “Do be fair…. We have smelled better.”

Astarion shrugged and began stripping off his clothes. “We haven’t had a proper bath in forty-five days.”

“I bathed in the river as often as I could.” You started to strip off your clothes as well.

“I don’t have that luxury. Can’t step foot in running water, so I had to make do with wet towels the whole time.” He stepped into the hot water and moaned.

That was one thing you couldn’t fix. Being able to walk in the sun was no problem, but short of finding a cure for his vampirism altogether, Astarion couldn’t step foot in running water.

“You make it sound like that water feels better than sex.” You finished pulling the rest of your clothes off and made your way towards the water.

“At this moment, yes, it is.” He sank under the water and came back out just enough so that his eyes, nose, and ears were peeking out of the water.

“Well then, good to know I can be outdone by a hot body of water.” You dipped your feet in the water. “I see what you mean. I would take this over you, too.”

“So we’re in agreement we are in a polygamous relationship with this pool of water.” Astarion came up and reached for the soap Gale or whoever managed his massive tower laid out for the two of you.

Astarion looked at your naked body as you stepped further into the pool, his eyes moving up and down your body, drinking you in like he was dying of thirst.

“What? You’ve seen me naked thousands of times.” You fully submerge yourself in the water.

“And every time I do, I’m reminded just how lucky I am.” He grabbed a hand towel, got it wet, and then added the soap to it.

He pressed the towel to his skin and began scrubbing the road from his skin, and you started to do the same. The soap felt like silk as you moved the towel over your skin. You took your time going over your swollen breasts, massaging them to ease the tension from being compressed behind a breastplate for twelve hours.

“I can do that for you.” Astarion came up behind you, his hot body pressed to your back as he grabbed the hand towel from you. “You deserve to be treated like a queen for what you’ve been through these past weeks.”

“When do I get my crown?” You leaned into his chest.

“As soon as I am able.” He caressed your tiny baby bump as he kissed the crook of your neck.

You moved your neck so he had better access to your neck. “You can bite me, you know.”

“I’m not biting you.” He placed another kiss on your neck.

“Why not? Does my blood taste funny now?”

“No, your blood is by far one of the best things I’ve ever tasted. I won’t drink from you because I don’t want to hurt you. Our child is already feeding off of you.” He let out a long sigh. “Even though I want nothing more than to taste your sweet blood on my tongue.”

You felt a pulse of arousal course through you. The thought of him feeding on you makes the coil in your stomach tighten. You missed the feeling of his teeth on your skin, the feel of them puncturing your neck, and the feel of ice in your veins as he sucked your lifeblood.

“Just for a second…. We are about to have dinner, so my body can afford to lose some of its blood.” You felt his whole body go still. The feel of his own arousal pressed against your back. “Please…”

At the sound of you begging, his fangs scraped against your skin but did not puncture your flesh. “You will tell me if it gets to be too much.”

“Yes.”

At your confirmation, his fangs broke through your sink, and you moaned, grinding your ass against his hard length. He sucked greedily for a few long seconds before removing his fangs and licking the holes he left behind. It wasn’t enough; you wanted him to feed for longer, take all he needed from you, and more.

“Fuck…” Astarion’s breath was hot against your neck. “I want more…”

He moved his that was on your stomach lower and placed the other on your shoulder, pushing your shoulders down and causing your body to form a ninety-degree angle. You held onto the side of the pool, arching your back to give him a better angle for what you knew he planned to do next.

Astarion grabbed his length and placed it at your hot center just outside the entrance. “How do you feel about having sex in Gale’s tower now?”

“I think if I can’t have your fangs in me, I want the next best thing.”

At your words, he slid inside you, filling you to the hilt. You cried out in pleasure as he pulled out almost completely only to slam back in and set a tempo that stroked and tightened the coil growing in your stomach. One of his hands found your breast, and you moaned as the mixture of his length filling you and the sensitivity from your breast played off of each other in perfect harmony.

It didn’t take long for you to hit peak pleasure, causing your climax to crash into you. Astarion felt you tighten around him and upped the tempo to help you ride out your climax and for him to follow soon after. You felt his hot release as it filled you completely. You stayed connected, your bodies not ready to be apart just yet.

When you were finally able to leave each other, Astarion turned you to face him. He kissed you with every ounce of passion he had left, swirling his tongue in your mouth so you could taste your blood.

“We really do need to get to dinner before they come up here looking for us,” Astarion said as he broke the kiss.

“You go ahead. I have to finish cleaning up. Tell them to start without me. I’m very filthy.” You accented the last word with your breath.

“ Oh, I know, darling.” He kissed you lightly on your lips. “I’m the one that defiled you.”

Astarion got out of the pool dripping wet and dried off, putting a clean pair of clothes on. You watched as he dried and styled his hair. He delicately made sure that every curl was perfect before leaving you to finish washing up.

After about ten minutes, you finally deemed yourself clean enough to see your friends and stepped from the pool to begin drying off. Before you could grab a towel, you heard someone approaching your room, and the door swung open abruptly.

“Come on, you’re taking fucking forever, and the food looks….” Karlach stood at the door and froze as she took in your naked form. Her eyes moved from your swollen breasts to the small swell of your belly. “Are you pregnant

[glitteryinknotes]

A little follow-up to my previous post.

[https://www.tumblr.com/glitteryinknotes/733101911814848512/there-is-a-level-of-deep-bitterly-poetic-and?source=share]

This one line is the perfect irony I was talking about. Astarion's most gentle and vulnerable side appears in that moment; clinging to the idea that there is good in the world and people who bring it exist, because that abused, terrified, helpless, poignant part of him wants to believe that, needs to believe that he's not alone and will not have to face his greatest terror alone, now that he knows all too well what it means to be an underdog, less than a person, dependant on somebody else's whim, someone who holds all the cards in the circumstances he's been forced into. Against Cazador, without Tav and the gang, he is as defenseless and vulnerable as the tiefling refugees he was so disgruntled by protecting and helping at the very beginning of the journey.

And we all know it is heartbreaking to hear him say that right after.

At the same time, those lines are quite unlike his usual self. The Astarion who doesn't care about anyone's business but his own, won't scoop down to help anyone in need unless convinced to or ordered to or lured in by the promise of entertainment, and only has a heart for you and maybe a few of his favourite companions. This line comes from the part of him that only developped after everything he's suffered and came to see that people who abuse power are genuinely loathsome and a plague on this world.

...wickedly ironic that he can say THAT in the very same conversation.

The parallels between both Ascended Astarion and Astarion The Magistrate, and Cazador are way too obvious. Again, delightfully ironic.

A little personal confession at this point: I was always obsessed with the idea of Tav finding out about Astarion's life from centuries ago, and confronting him about it in some way. It's not impossible, if he indeed was a magistrate, some records of his "ruling" must be kept in some form of city archives, and all it would take is a trip to the city to do a little digging in the library. I think it would be challenging, but in a rather healthy way for him to see clearly what kind of a person he was (especially after the events of the game, with Cazador dealt with); seeing the parallels between not just who he could have become had he chosen to go through with the ritual, but his "original" self and his abuser, and being forced to reflect on the kind of person he will be in the future; someone following in those footsteps, or someone, while retaining his mischievous, hedonistic, self - oriented instincts, choosing to be better. Different. More than that.

I believe that after everything that's happened to him, there is no separating Astarion's innate instincts of self - serving from his survival instincts of self - preservation. We can never know for certain where does one begin and the other ends, we can only hope to steer both in the "good" direction as a trusted, healthy influence, either as friend or partner. Preserve the goodness and kindness, the capability od which he has developped after being brutally and forcefully "humbled" for two centuries while still giving him space to be gleefully... Well, himself.

[prismatic-starstuff]

Today I am thinking very hard about the fact that Astarion, post-ascension, believes that MC will be degrading themself if they stay with him.

Generally I'm seeing a lot of people take it that he's looking at MC from a genuine place of superiority, but - at the risk of giving a scalding hot take - I... absolutely didn't read that line that way.

He thinks they'll be degrading themself forever if they stay with him. To reframe that sentence a bit: he thinks being with him is something inherently degrading.

But he knows that they 'want to be degraded.' Or in other words; he's certain in that moment that they want to be with him.

I'm not trying to say Astarion after the ascension did nothing wrong, and I'm not trying to make him sound better than he is; I've gone on record saying how I feel about this ending, and how I vastly prefer the other one because I want this character who I'm desperately in love with to get on the path to healing.

But... I was watching some scenes today, and this moment stuck out to me in a really big way. Astarion has always, all the way through the game, pretended to have more self-confidence than he actually has - it's not all an act, but a certain amount of it absolutely is - and I think this scene shows that beneath all the attitude... ascending hasn't actually changed this aspect of him as much as it seems at first.

[not-poignant]

Hey, hey! Random kind-of-writer here, who struggles to bring words on paper and looking for help/advice? I think I finally found my problem, which comes in the shape of 'my third person pov writing sounds like an ikea building instruction'. AKA: All that what the pov character perceives is there, things are happening/the plot is there but the writing kind of lacks thoughts/feeling/inner monolog? For years I've followed your stories and I look up to your writings skills. Especially you handling of pov and that gorgeous mixture of what the character perceives and what is happening in their head. Do you have maybe any tips/insight how do you find a balance?

Hi anon!

So firstly I'm going to point you to my dialogue research post that I put up recently, because dialogue research applies to a characters inner dialogue as well, and will kind of give you a guide as to how they're likely to be talking in their heads. (How I write as the narrator in A Stain that Won't Dissolve is actually somewhat similar to how Alex speaks, I even go out of my way not to use certain words if I don't think Alex would know what they mean).

Otherwise there's several approaches you can take.

You can imagine that the character is basically writing a journal entry or a diary entry. The narrator is, in a way, piggy backing off that. You're a fly on the wall of a character's brain. Sometimes they're going to have lots of thoughts, sometimes they're going to have none. Sometimes my characters are literally just narrating what's happening no thoughts attached, sometimes they're narrating with thoughts attached, and sometimes they're just thinking about stuff and missing what's going on in front of them.

Diary entries are like that too. They can vary from 'today I did this, did this, walked the dog, had this for dinner, and read some of this book' to 'oh my GOD I HATE this person sO MUCH and I really can't BELIEVE this is happening to me omg the DOG needs to be walked I keep FORGETTING.'

Somewhere in there, is your character.

Some characters are more - for lack of a better word - detached or utilitarian than others, some have their voices 'come to life' over the course of a story, because they're growing (Gwyn can be a bit like this).

Some characters are very observational, some are stuck in their heads. Some ground themselves through noticing their surroundings, others notice how other people are acting and behaving (especially true with trauma, Astarion notices setting way less than he notices how people are behaving around him).

It might help you to write down some little sentences like 'this character notices people a lot because people hurt them' or 'this character looks for nature because they like nature' or 'this character is very sensitive to smells so they constantly are aware of how things smell.'

From there, I am very sorry to say, it's just a matter of practice! This stuff becomes easier the more you do it. At first, it will be normal for the characters to feel a bit mechanical and not very natural, and that's because you're still building the skills you need to bring them to life from the ground up. Most writers don't have these skills even if they know what they're supposed to be learning, and they can only be learned through trying, making some mistakes, having some successes, and keeping on with the words.

How you write the first paragraph of a character this year, will be very different to next year, if you just keep writing.

Unfortunately, you can't skip past that part either. I can give you lots of tips, and you can do lots of research and guidance for yourself, but at the end of the day the best way to make it feel natural and have some depth, is to actually just keep writing characters and reflecting on what you've written, notice the paragraphs you like as well as the ones you don't, and building and building from there.

I wish you all the words, anon! It's normal to feel dissatisfied with your writing sometimes, that means you know you have room to grow - but the best thing is, you're already growing if you're noticing this stuff!!! That's actually a positive! You'll go through periods of feeling satisfied, and then dissatisfied, if you keep on keeping on, and looking at what the writers you love are doing, you'll eventually really just pick it up until it feels quite natural to you <3

[sincerelystesichorus]

astarion, anne carson, & autobiography of red - small character study blurb

In which I've written 40k words of Astarion character analysis fanfiction and I'm definitely still normal.

Astarion used to be blue, but ever since that night two centuries ago, he was reborn red. And he had spent at least the past century thinking that red was irreplaceable. It was – red, it was in his blood and the little blood Cazador would let him wring from rats, corroded and stained. His very life force. He was Cazador’s, his spawn, his jewel, his ruby. There was no cure for red. Not until you became the successful means to an end. He had been sure of it. Being red wasn’t good. It made everyone who wasn’t red, and that felt like most everyone, stare at you like you put off a certain aura… like they knew you were a monster that could only act off of instinct and emotion. And it was so frustrating, because parts of Astarion were blue still, knew what was better, but they were nothing in comparison to the suffocation of red. The emotions, and especially anger, fear, came on so strong. It was hard not to act on them, to test out what the boundaries of pure action were. Astarion knew the color and impulse all too well.

I expand way more on the idea of people as colors within my writing than Autobiography of Red does, where Geryon is the only one who is red. This further pushes Geryon's feelings of being separated from humanity in his narrative, but there's a lot of inherent evil and fucked up things within Faerun so I felt expanding on colors and specifically shades/hues was a better way to communicate this for Astarion.

Geryon's red is tied very instinctually to emotion though, and so representing red as a chaotic force of emotion in my fic didn't feel like too far a step. I took a lot of inspiration from Magic: the Gathering's color pie lol. While you never get an exact description of what's wrong with Geryon, you get a lot of the symptoms, reminiscent of some sort of innate childhood mental illness, on top of the obvious trauma present in his story.

Back to Astarion, though. I've just never not been able to code him with CPTSD, I think that's obvious, but I also know that poor bastard has a personality disorder skffkjdf. The game always hammers in he has no sense of self outside of his looks, which he can't even be sure of because he can't see himself. Astarion has to work his confidence and self-image off of memories of his body and face from two centuries ago, and from his master's word. Cazador has assigned him to this seduction role (or, I feel its at least implied that Astarion was ultimately forced into it because he was seen as the Szarr runt, he was pretty and easy to push around, and I'm also pretty sure Petras has a line about getting to eat dogs now and then?) and Astarion fulfills it because it's all he can do. All he feels good for. His actions aren't his own for two hundred years, and in a morbid way of coping with constant sexual trauma, he functions off of "Well, at least I'm pretty," but even that assumption comes from Cazador's rule.

Astarion had decided he was mostly pure red, splashes of black and blue coming in, bright and visible. The remnants of his past and an even deeper level of Cazador’s corruption, bruising his psyche.

Carson is again sparing with other color imagery as to fully emphasize Geryon feeling like this big red monster, but I love this little excerpt on fearful anger.

Black/shadow is already a strong force and theme within the game so it was easy to work with, acknowledging it as a sort of staining evil. Astrion has his later lines about how he never stopped viewing himself as Cazador's slave, and I think showing that corruption is obviously important. He's hurt but can still heal (as opposed to an ascended Astarion... who I have little if any hope for sdfkjdskf).

Cazador had spent the last two centuries branding it into his skin and mind, breaking his psyche to the point Astarion was worried there’d always be little cracks that remained. That he’d always be Cazador’s wilted poppy, ashamed and folding in on himself, his neck miserably drooped aside for the taking. 

Cazador is Astarion's Herakles, and I think that metaphor works even better considering that whole little side lore with Vellioth in the ruins. Herakles kills Geryon because he must, Geryon is a way for Herakles to ultimately reach a life free of consequence, but it's not like Herakles is innately malicious in the act. He is hardened after already facing so many labors and the trauma that was forced on him by Hera that induced his journey in the first place.

Cazador wants power, some part of him is probably truly convinced he's easier on his spawn than Vellioth was to him (a lot of insults to Astarion are about his feelings and "whining", Cazador feels vindicated in his trauma and is far gone), and sacrificing Astarion is simply a part of that journey. There is no world where their destinies do not intertwine. Geryon will always be pierced by Herakles, and Astarion wouldn't be the Astarion we know without being pierced by Cazador (and without his ultimate decision to finally separate himself from him, or to become him.) Astarion, understandably, will never not feel some sort of shame or agony over this moment, from natural emotions and I'm sure years of Cazador victim-blaming him. He consented to Cazador's help that night after all, didn't he? (And we simply won't acknowledge the coercion.)

Astarion’s attempts to prolong the inevitable were shattered by thick layers of stone suddenly slamming in front of his face, muffling sound and casting him into a void. He could hardly hear Cazador’s foul laugh as he departed. Astarion waited all night for Cazador to return. And then all of the next day, and the next one after that. Days became weeks. Weeks became months. Astarion started to agree that dying would have been easier. More peaceful. He had pondered hundreds of ways to attempt to kill himself while stuck in this abyss, the voices that had started developing only giving further inspiration, but it was impossible. He was sure.  All he could do was wait. Beat and claw at the stone around him. Curse. Repeat. Sometimes he'd wonder. If he'd ever get out of here. If Cazador would remember after forgetting. If this would be his forever. The voices began to recite to him again. Just how long eternity can be.

I think this is the greatest and most obvious similarity between these two, within Carson's retelling. Geryon feels somehow trapped and doomed by the narrative from his early childhood, and receives some blunt confirmation of it when he faces early sexual abuse. This affects his entire life, his early relationships. Geryon can't be older than ten in this excerpt, but knows the pain of isolation because of his trauma and for feeling different.

Astarion was plucked up by Cazador right out of law school. While for us it's not all that young, for elves he was fiercely immature, basically just starting to come into himself at his first big-boy job. Astarion was likely raised with a lot of privilege that also made him a bit more naive, his book smarts not meeting street smarts, which has him meet his end. In his undeath, that basically flips, Astarion plays his manipulation games and indulges in petty crime and seduction, unable to dedicate himself to studies. He reads and he's witty, but can you imagine the Astarion we know as a judge? It's giving Divorce Court. It's giving Judge Judy. (Honestly maybe that's what got him whacked in the first place.)

Astarion is already constrained to what Cazador lets him be as a slave. He's less than a person, and his own body is one of his greatest trauma sources.

All of this, to be punished so supremely when making an act of slight self-preservation. Astarion wanting to maintain some of his principles and let someone go. It becomes his greatest regret, his worst and most defining punishment. It's how Cazador breaks him.

I restructure some of the circumstances within my fic, as to better tie in the main romance, but it still functions as a punished act of self-preservation for Astarion. I'm also sure most people are familiar with the pain that solitary confinement can bring, but if not, it's genuinely inhumane and dehumanizing. Lack of stimulation is extremely damaging to the psyche, I wrote in Astarion breaking into psychotic episodes while enclosed, but even in game, he speaks about going catatonic. I'm sure minorly from exhaustion after fighting, but also from the isolation. His mind likely just drifted and dissociated beyond belief, and I can't imagine it. This is my favorite piece of Astarion's story we are given, it really is just so pivotal and heartbreaking, to be punished for having freewill in the most objectifying circumstances.

In summary to Astarion Ancunin I just sorta feel like this I guess...

ddfsdfdk but yeah just emo about my poor boy feeling so weird and disconnected yet so drowned in his own emotions you know...

[my homage to autobiography of red, fic series page, my ao3 page]

[loquaciousquark]

10, 11, 12, and 29!

10 was answered here and 11 and 12 here, so I'll jump to 13, 14, and 16! (15 here).

13. How does your Tav feel about the wilderness?

Hates it at first. It's full of swamps and bugs and bears and hags and none of her skills are useful and she keeps having to jump over deep chasms and carry all her stuff with her in a big pack.

In the Underdark things start to turn around - she thinks the mushrooms and torchstalk and all the glowing fungi are beautiful, and she's even overwhelmed by the lava rivers and the lava elemental. The mountain pass is likewise affecting for her, and even the Shadowlands have an alien aesthetic that she finds fascinating. The House of Hope opens her eyes to the possibility of planar travel, and by the end of the game her lust for travel is fully piqued. Astarion is more than happy to indulge, and they go off together for months at a time.

14. How does your Tav feel about the city?

It's a shithole, but it's her shithole. She'll complain about it in every breath but the moment someone else tries to take it from her, she'll get after them like a rabid dog. As eager as she is to get out for so long, whenever she thinks of home, she thinks of Baldur's Gate first. I think that actually drives her crazy.

16. How does your Tav feel about killing?

Ohhh, what a neat question that you didn't actually ask! She kills her aunt when she's fourteen, because the aunt (her mother's sister) is a violent drunk who didn't want to be saddled with her orphaned niece and uses her in her scams and cons in the city. The aunt comes after her in a drunken rage at some point and Tavish kills her in self-defense, and even through the horror I don't think she ever regrets it.

I'm fairly certain there are a few midnight murders as well. Also self-defense - she never puts her neck out for others until the events of the game - and she's a single woman who's not part of the Guild's protection. Someone follows her into an alley, sometimes, and they don't come out again. That sort of thing. Not often, though; she's on the smaller side, and it's better for her not to be in that kind of danger to begin with, so she learns very quickly what areas to avoid after sunset.

(I do think she has a few very tenuous ties she's maintained with a few people who got into the Guild when she didn't, but they're very tenuous, and she wouldn't want to owe them favors if she can help it.)

[chronoxtreme]

The Cage - Chapter 18 Author's Notes

First of all, here's a link to the chapter in question! CW: Discussions of a relationship with power imbalance, discrimination based on sexual anatomy So, fun fact - everything with Yurgir was not in the original, second or even 4th draft of this fic (and when I mean draft, I basically mean "attempt to think this monster's details out," not an actual draft). Chapters 17 and 18 were supposed to be one chapter, but migraine + insane wordcount + me getting a new position at work basically nuked that idea. So I split it in two, and honestly, I believe it's for the better in terms of pacing.

Nanne's whole "I don't like to use charm-like magic" comes from seeing Da use it on other people. Friends was that guy's favorite cantrip, and while it can get you what you want, it can also burn you. Nanne's much less risk adverse than Da, so they avoid it. Enhance Ability though is fair game because it just makes you better at certain things.

The "homicidal hat trick" line by Gale is a shout-out to Mistborn, one of my favorite book trilogies.

And then we get to the second "twist" of Nanne's backstory: Maria. This is a part that wasn't in my first stab at writing Nanne. Originally, they had no experience with sex or romance at all. However, I realized that them having some romantic history gave them a lot better motivation for their behavior around Astarion pre-seduction. At the same time (and this was unintentional) their experience with Maria became a foil for Astarion's sexual encounters with patriars.

I also put a lot of myself into that story. I'm transmasc nonbinary, and when I wrote that scene, I wasn't out to anyone, including my husband. Thankfully, he's been extremely supportive of me and my identity, but it took a lot of courage to talk about it with him. It's extremely difficult to come out to people who have a certain expectation of who you are. Writing about Maria's rejection was a weird sort of catharsis.

It was also a story where I wanted it to be messy, especially from Nanne's POV and how they describe it. Nanne had zero intentions of having a relationship with their employer, it kind of just... happened. And while it was doomed to failure from the start, Maria was attracted to them. There was a "chance" of it working out. That's what makes it really sting, in my mind. It was problematic at best, coercive at worst, and Nanne wasn't in the wrong - but for so long, they've lived with an emotionally immature parent constantly talking about how difficult it was to raise them, the sacrifices, the burdens, etc. and that gets to you. So naturally, if something goes wrong, it is their fault. Finally, the song! This section ended up being a lot shorter than I expected it to be, but honestly, that's another thing that I've been working on in the "this is for me first" category: not being afraid to release chapters with wildly differing lengths. Yes, it will happen again, that is a promise lmao.

Like the Dawn is one of my favorite songs on the planet, and when I listened to it after playing BG3, I realized that it perfectly described Nanne's thoughts about Astarion in the sunlight, and the rest was history. This is a moment that I could rewrite a thousand different ways and still never be satisfied because how in the world do you write about a person SINGING without it coming off awkward as hell? In the end, I think it worked out okay. I'm not satisfied, but I'm content.

Nanne's using Faerie Fire here, because if bards can use singing to do magic, why not do magic to enhance the singing performance? I've always loved fic/media that's used the world's magic system for stuff like special effects in performances and plays - it makes the world feel alive and Nanne is a bard first and foremost. The bigger the spectacle, the more coin they get. Is there a bit of illusion magic thrown in? Maybe. Hey those Weave lessons with Gale paid off!

Astarion running off was also not in the script but it turned out that way. I don't think it's a bad thing for him to keep feeling guilt. I do worry that it comes off as repetitive and cyclical, but in my experience that's how guilt works in real life. You feel good, you forget about it, and then someone says or does something, and it all comes crashing down. It's tough... and next chapter's gonna be even worse lmao.

[larkaloke]

Vethryn: BG3 Questions Answered (Dark Urge)

Again, doing this because I like talking about my characters, and I don't know many people so it's easier to just answer everything. But if you have a question for/about either Vethryn (here) or Yezka'al (previous post), feel free to ask it!

QUESTIONS ANSWERED

What circumstances led to your Dark Urge becoming their Class/Subclass? Vethryn idolized paladins and other heroes as a child, and was on the verge of going to Neverwinter to chase his dreams when the Urge struck the first time and he murdered his adoptive family.

Did your Dark Urge have any romantic and/or sexual relationships prior to their illithid adventure? If yes, who was it with and what was it like? If no, how did they feel about being single? He didn't. Vethryn picked up pretty quickly that he would end up killing everyone he cared about, and put up as many walls as possible between himself and others. He was desperately unhappy in general, and this probably contributed, but mostly he'd numbed himself to it pre-tadpole.

What would your Dark Urge consider to be their greatest skill? Is this accurate? Vethryn is painfully aware that his greatest and indeed only real skill is killing people.

What would your Dark Urge consider to be their greatest flaw? Is this accurate? He has a hard time with that, because Vethryn sees himself as almost nothing but flaws. He's slowly starting to see himself as something other than a hateful wretch, but it's an uphill battle. He might choose his lack of intelligence, although he suspects he didn't have this hard a time with the mental side of things before Orin stabbed him a lot in the head.

What opinion does your Dark Urge have about the Gods? Vethryn is conflicted on the subject. On the one hand, his main experience of the gods is how they manipulate and use their followers, but on the other, he still wants to believe some of them have the good of mortals at heart. Mostly he doesn't think about it. It hurts.

How does your Dark Urge react to waking up with memory loss? Confusion, trying to piece together the pieces. Helping people where he could because he was sure that must have been important to him, and he was dressed as a paladin, so maybe he was one? (Orin probably did this to mock him for his childhood wish, or at least that's my reasoning for it.) It concerned him less than the pain in his head and the whispers to kill.

Did your Dark Urge recall any childhood memories? If yes, how do they feel about the revelations? If no, was it by choice or lack of options? He remembered killing his adoptive family, which he feels terrible about. Looking back he can see he stood little chance against becoming what he was, but the guilt and questions are inescapable.

How does your Dark Urge feel about the wilderness? It's nice. Less people around mean less whispers to kill them. Even after the Urge is gone, he still feels more at peace out under the stars than in a city.

How does your Dark Urge feel about the city? It's dirty and mean and crawling with the worst people, of which he's very aware he was one. Almost nothing but bad memories. Too many people. Too much going on at once. Night is better. He understands the night, at least.

What motivates your Dark Urge to either embrace or resist the tadpole? The last thing Vethryn wanted was something else to contend with in his head, and he couldn't believe that consuming more tadpoles wouldn't make it harder for him to be himself. He tried a couple of them, because he trusted the Emperor probably more than he should have, but that was it.

What motivates your Dark Urge to either embrace or resist the Urge? The more Vethryn remembered about his old life the more certain he was that he'd always wanted to get away, he'd just given up hope of ever being able to. He was determined to use his new chance via tadpoling to defy Bhaal. His companions helped him have the strength to see it through, especially Astarion and Jaheira.

How does your Dark Urge feel about being a bhaalspawn? He's come to accept that, more or less. Hearing about how it was possible to resist helped him with that, and generally the support of his companions (particularly on this score Jaheira and Minsc). He still has a lot to work through with regards to Bhaal, but he's not going to hide from it. He has started to wonder whether the whole 'carved from Bhaal's dead flesh' thing is true or something that Sceleritas Fel and Sarevok always told him to make him feel more powerless, but he's not interested in any way he could find that out for sure at this point.

How does your Dark Urge feel about killing? He loves it. Even without the Urge, he still finds that he revels in death to a certain extent. He sometimes hates himself for that, but he focuses on channeling himself into killing people who need killing.

How good of a liar is your Dark Urge? How do they feel about lying? Vethryn is actually a shockingly good liar, but he mostly feels bad about lying, so he only does it for a purpose (such as talking the orthon into killing itself).

What is your Dark Urge’s greatest fear? Losing himself. Becoming the monster that he could be. He knows there will always be a darkness within himself as a bhaalspawn, even now, and he's sometimes terrified that somehow Bhaal will get control of him back. That last part will fade with time.

What is your Dark Urge’s greatest desire? Vethryn wants to be the hero some people have now seen him as, and do what he can to even the score against all the wrongs he did as Bhaal's Chosen.

What is your Dark Urge’s greatest regret? He has... a lot. But he still doesn't remember his past with great clarity, so the more recent ones tend to come to the forefront, and offing Mizora without remembering what would happen to Wyll has to be up there.

How does your Dark Urge feel about love? Love can save people. It saved him; he doesn't want to think too closely about what might have happened to him if he'd woken up on the nautiloid and not found the people he found. Would he have slipped right back into who he was?

Has your Dark Urge become particularly close to anyone romantically and/or platonically in their journey? If so, who, and what is the relationship like? If no, why not? Vethryn fell in love with Astarion, although that started mostly as confiding in the one person who seemed like he was safe to confide in about his little problem. They helped each other confront their pasts and become better people, and Vethryn is devoted to Astarion. He was also very close to Karlach and Jaheira; Karlach is his best friend, which he doesn't see any reason to change even with her current tentacled state (after all, he also sees the Emperor as a friend), and Jaheira he looks up to as an aunt or adoptive mother. He generally sees the party as his new family, people he cares about deeply and who care about him.

Is your Dark Urge open about their Urge or do they try to hide it? Why? Vethryn never tried to hide it from the party, because he thought they had a right to know that he might be a danger to them. Most of them didn't believe him until the Alfira incident, of course, but he tried. He also generally tends to be too honest, and ended up telling a lot of random people about it, and about being a bhaalspawn later. He figured if people knew, they could at least try to defend themselves if he lost control.

What are 2-3 songs that your Dark Urge would relate to? Hmm. Twisted Mind - Avantasia; Sins of the Father - Black Sabbath; Fever Dreams - Dio. (I could come up with a lot more but I'm leaving it there. My music list is a lot more suited to Vethryn than Yezka'al, which probably says something about me.)

What first impression does your Dark Urge give off to strangers? The average impression is similar to a fluffy feral cat with a wild stare that probably just killed something. He's a little off, his expressions are all too intense, but it's also compelling when it's not disturbing.

How does your Dark Urge feel about what others think of them? Vethryn cares more about having a good impact on other people than having them think well of him per say, but he's always a bit uncomfortable when he realizes someone thinks well of him. They shouldn't, after all. They probably wouldn't if they knew who he was.

Does your Dark Urge have a treasured item with them? If yes, what is it and why is it special? If no, how do they feel about item sentimentality in general? Vethryn is given to carrying sentimental items, although they tend to be on the disturbing side for most people. The party once had to stage an intervention because he was carrying nearly 35 pounds of skulls, brains-in-vats, and some other bones. He whittled that collection down to just one or two comfort skulls. But he also has less off-putting items; he found an owlbear plush in a ruin that he sleeps with (he's trying to get away from keeping the skulls by the bed), and he did carry Gortash's hand with him for the rest of the game, because he figured he owed the man who was probably sort of his friend once something.

How does your Dark Urge feel about Sceleritas Fel? While he was initially disgusted by Sceleritas, both initially and post-tadpole, Vethryn saw Sceleritas as his only real friend and almost a father figure instead of Bhaal when he was a child at the temple. Helping the Butler with his chores a la the list in the urn was probably not at all uncommon for Vethryn. He felt a bit upset about Sceleritas' death and wasn't sure why.

How does your Dark Urge feel about Bhaal? He hates Bhaal. He always has, even when he was also desperate to be loved by Bhaal. If he ever sees the opportunity to kill him, he will take it. Even though he's mostly come to terms with being a bhaalspawn, Vethryn still feels that Bhaal - and the temple - stole his life from him and turned him into a twisted monster, and that's a difficult thing to forgive. Not that he's trying. He wants vengeance.

How does your Dark Urge feel about giving and receiving orders? Vethryn is more comfortable taking orders than giving them. He prefers to avoid situations where orders are necessary. He doesn't know why people look to him to direct them; he's probably a terrible person to take orders from. But he will do it if he knows what needs to be done.

How well does your Dark Urge function under pressure? Surprisingly well, but he's basically been under pressure his whole life. He found it easier to ignore the whispers when focused wholly on something, so it was actually moments where he was the least under pressure otherwise that he was most concerned about slipping. That caused him to seek out high-pressure situations. He's trying to de-tune from that a bit now that the Urge is no longer a problem.

What advice would you give to your Dark Urge? I mean he probably needs therapy and a really long vacation instead of immediately choosing another Thing He Needs To Fix, so that. It's okay to chill a bit. He's got time. Probably forever.

What are your Dark Urge’s intentions/goals after the end of the game? Vethryn was going to stay with Astarion no matter what, and he doesn't see any reason why they can't find a way for Astarion to walk under the sun again. After all, they killed Raphael, he defied Bhaal, how would this be harder? He also plans to roam around doing whatever heroic things need doing. He would on some level like to settle down for a while, but he doesn't even know what that would look like, so he's putting it off. If Jergal has anything that needs doing, Vethryn would feel he has to do it (and probably would actually have to), but other than that it's free-form heroics. Preferably away from Baldur's Gate, because he's still not wanting to confront a lot of his memories there. Maybe someday.

[missizzy]

A Game Novice's Baldur's Gate Log, 50 1/2 Hours In: Now With Accompanying Fanfic!

Masterpost

(Note: this will definitely contain spoilers for all I've played through, and probably quite of a bit of the later stuff I've also seen.)

So among the things I ended up playing through this week was a certain camp scene involving Lae'zel and Shadowheart. I'd already had an idea of writing something Lae'zel-related, and then Astarion, being Astarion, butted in where he hadn't been called for, and this resulted. It takes place in the universe of this playthrough, and it won't be the last thing I write that does. I've already got another Lae'zel-related idea, but it will have to wait until I play through a few more things. And yes, there will be fic about my Sara Tully and Gale, when I get to that part of the game.

At the end of last week, I was trying to get to the Myconids, and was convinced the way there was through the cave of explosive mushrooms, and was trying to figure out how to get the dwarf out without setting them off. My first attempt failed, and also caused my game to crash, although thankfully that didn't happen again. I also found myself regretting that I'd sent the spell slot-drained Gale back to camp, since I found myself thinking his frost rays could come in handy. So I went and got him back, actually zapped some isolated mushrooms, tried to bring out his mage hand, and found that made the mushrooms explode, too.

I'd neglected to save, and didn't feel like going back to get him again, so I went back to where I'd saved before sending him there, tried to take the route I'd first taken to the cave from there, didn't quite, got caught up in a very unexpected fight, decided the long rest before going any further, barely kept Shadowheart from killing Lae'zel, eventually got back to cave via a longer route that allowed me to loot a scroll of Misty Step-and was suddenly provided with the option of throwing it to the dwarf, which I gratefully took. With everyone clear, I then had Gale explode most of the mushrooms, went forward after that, looted a chest-and then discovered the cave was enclosed and was not the way to anywhere. I was very put out.

I ended up looking up a map of the Underdark, then slowly walking my party along the barriers I'd run into to find the way through, eventually discovering the big mushroom stalk I could climb up to get to the Myconid village. And once again I must give high praise to the gamemakers for the beautiful, creepy, and very alien place they gave us to find there. We sci-fi/fantasy geeks may have run into the concept of hive mind societies before, but their work can give us the same awe and uneasiness as I instantly knew filled Sara, whom I'm sure never imagined such a thing, when she tried to talk to one of the guards in the front and was answered by Sovereign Spaw, it using this other being as nothing more than a mouthpiece. She felt a bit better when Blurg later claimed to her the Myconids are nonetheless each their own unique selves.

So when she met with the Sovereign, she was happy to tell it that we'd killed the Duergar slave-catchers, and happier to take the D6 boon that truly ended up coming in very handy the rest of the day. But when it requested she then kill Nere, she wasn't so sure she wanted to just agree to do so. On the other hand, after finding and healing Thulla, she had no hesitation about agreeing to rescue the other gnomes.

When we then met Sovereign Glut, and it also asked us about killing the slave-catchers, it likewise seemed no harm to take it to see the corpses. Until it demanded we kill Shaw. Sara wasn't without sympathy, when she heard Shaw had left Glut's circle to their fate, but she was aware she didn't really know or understand these people, and did not want to take sides in their internal political disputes. Except, of course, it then wouldn't take no for an answer, and forced us to kill it instead. Still, thanks to its allegations against Shaw, she was even more hesitant about killing someone it wanted dead.

But, of course, she did want to rescue the gnomes, so we headed to Grymforge anyway. Posing as a True Soul of the Absolute could not have been easy for Sara, but she's now very aware she's probably going to have to do it at Moonrise Towers, so this was good practice, at least. At least she's able to use intimidation as well as deception checks to get past cultists while doing so; she's way better at the former. Also, it seems the cultist NPCs don't necessarily have very good hearing. I'd actually seen one streamer reach the enslaved gnomes working on the cave-in, and note how she seemed able to talk to them freely with the overseers right there, which at least meant I wasn't caught out by that.

Had it just been Nere caught in that cave-in, Sara probably would've just turned on the overseers. But of course some of the gnomes were trapped as well, giving the player more motivation to go find the rune-powder to blow it open. En route, Sara found herself kneeling over the bodies of the dead gnomes being thrown into the water, and at that point her character demanded I have her promise to killed their enslavers. Yet even so, when we got back with the runepowder and set it off, I genuinely didn't know whether we were going to kill Nere or not.

All such vague doubts, however, were quickly wiped away by the cut scene. His brutal treatment of the gnomes was enough for Sara to immediately drop the cold and loyal True Soul act and decry him for his cruelty. His promptly ordering the Duergar to kill her only sealed what probably would've been his fate anyway.

Or at least it did so the second time I played through that scene. The battle proved another one where I first went in without any real preparation or strategy, and things went rather badly as a result. I hadn't even remembered that I'd given Shadowheart Spirit Guardians when we'd leveled up, that first time around. The second time on the other hand, she cast that in the knot our foes formed around us and held concentration on it long enough for it to very much be the MVP spell, making what had been a hard and painful struggle way easier. Although I fear at some point Gale cast something that accidentally hit one of the gnomes, since they suddenly gained all -5 in attitude towards him at the battle's end.

That was part of the reason I lingered only long enough to cut off Nere's head, since we might as well hand that in to Shaw, and be confronted by his parasite. That the gamemakers made sure to give us both virtuous and mercenary reasons to cut off that head makes me think getting that parasite was pretty important. Except that while Sara is no longer ruling out using the Ilithid powers, this time, she had to figure there's be more True Souls to kill down the line, if she wants to make that choice then, so she didn't have to make it now.

I came back after long resting with Gale discreetly swapped out for Astarion, to finish talking with the gnomes and agree to rescue Wulbren. It was a smart party member swap to make anyway, as we've since been further exploring the Grymforge, with plenty of chests and doors for him to lockpick. I am now trying to gather up further XP, and we've had a couple of fights against mimics and similar, but now we're getting close to the elevator that would take us to Act II, which we are definitely not taking just yet, if we do at all.

[alpaca-clouds]

NaNoWriMo Day 2

Alright, did not get around to writing so much today, because I spend 5 hours in the hospital. Not because I am sick (I mean, I got a cold, but nothing major), but because I am finally getting testosterone! Well, not quite yet. I had the preliminary examinations on it today and will get my stuff later this month.

So, only two chapters for me. Including one of the completely nightmare scenarios of having a dialogue scene with twelve characters. Damn my silly bard Tav and his tendency to make friends.

Wordcount: 13 073 / 50 000 (+4023)

Chapters: 6 / 21

Favorite Bits

Speaking (or rather thinking) of the proverbial devil… The door to the basement rooms was opened and Astarion recognized the pattern of the steps. Just that it was not only Tav. There was another set of rather heavy boots accompanying him. “Ouch,” someone said, following by Tav’s laughter. “Careful.” “These rooms are not made for people like me,” the person complained. “Now, where is my little buddy?” Astarion groaned, because he knew what would follow – and how outright impossible it was to escape it. He had not known that their former comrades were back in the city. It was good, because if he was honest: He missed them. It was just that he did not miss certain things. He got up, opening the door to the sitting room, being greeted with a wide grin and open arms. “Buddy!” And before he could escape it, he was pulled in a very strong and very warm hug. “Good afternoon to you, too,” he muttered against her muscular chest. “How are you doing?” she asked, taking him by the shoulders to look at him. “You still look awfully pale, you know?” Then she laughed. “I am afraid that is not about to change,” he muttered, looking over to Tav. “Where did you find her?”

[And yeah, I keep Karlach around, because fuck her canonical endings]

“Are you sure you wanna go down there alone?” Tav asked. “I could buy a potion and come with you.” They were on their way home now. Home. What a strange concept. But Astarion guessed it was home. He looked at the man’s hand inside his own, sighing. “Tav, my sweet, I am very humbled by your concern, but I am going to do fine. As I said, I have done this for literal centuries. And other than you, darling, I know how to stay out of trouble.” “I am better in staying out of trouble than you give me credit for.” “Sure you are, my sweet. Only that everyone who knows you tells me different.” “They are merely exaggerating.” “I travelled with you for about thirteen weeks. During which you got involved in approximately every bit of trouble we came across. So, excuse me for rather believing your dear friends.” Astarion smiled, though. He stopped for once, looking at the bard. “Say, we find some drow slaves down there. What are you going to do? Are you just going to leave them there? Or will you instantly try to free them, rather than getting backup before?” Now it was Tav, who pouted, just like Lakrissa has done before. He would not admit it. “You know I am right,” Astarion purred, getting for once the annoyed groan that Tav would usually earn from him. “Fine, you are right. I would help them. Because it would be the right thing to do.”

[loviatars]

Moon Cradle

pairing: astarion x gender neutral main character (reader) warnings: vague ptsd and trauma references rating: teen for the above reasons! word count: 957 notes: a slightly longer baby fanfic surrounding my personal vampire headcanon that they’re only as cold as what’s touching them!!

He’s a corpse, of course. It’s why a look of bemused discomfort crosses your face when you touch him, pressing cold skin against yours. His palm is icy by comparison, frigid in the night air with late-autumn coming on fast.

Perhaps Astarion is used to the sharpness of people’s tongues, even of their touches-- but he has no idea what to do when confronted with something sofer. You feel almost feverish next to him, and you wrap up his lithe hand in two of your warm hands.

“Can’t be very comfortable, eh? Being cold all the time,” you begin. He gives a half-hearted shrug. Forming words is a challenge, they’ve gotten all jumbled in his throat.

“I-- I hadn’t given it much thought, really,” he lies. He has. When living, breathing people recoil in fear (when they touch him at all) it gives him plenty to think about. But you breeze past that out of courtesy.

“I’m sure you’ll warm up just fine,” you say. He nods, the gesture stiff and awkward. “And if we move closer to the fire, it’ll be even quicker.”

You guide him away from the tree he’s leaning on, leading by the hand you’ve got hold of. Astarion sighs, seeing that you’re on a mission (for better or worse). He could argue, part of him wants to, or you could hold part of him a little longer.

Really, who could fault him for following?

Your bedroll is only a bit softer than the ground. But its choice proximity to the fire means your goosebumps fade.

He looks handsome in the half-light, you note, the shadows setting the hollows of his eyes in shadow. Astarion doesn’t look ravenous any more, at least. Now that he knows he’s among friends, he’s slinked away from camp every night without bothering to tell lies.

“Better?” you ask. And though he would argue things were never dire in the first place, he gives an errant nod.

Touch is supposed to hurt. But you squeeze his hands like you’re afraid they’ll splinter. He imagines you picking shards of him from your palms, and can’t bring himself to squeeze back. Not yet. So his fingers hang limp, but they slowly begin to feel less frigid.

Very little is said, which would normally only serve to put him even more on edge. But you have a quiet sort of calm this evening, and you tilt your chin up to look at the stars. Having another set of expectant eyes on him removed helps his shoulders to go slack.

Astarion looks, too.

“It’s no wonder you like them so much,” you say, “you have ‘star’ in your name.”

“That’s hardly the only reason,” he replies. His eyes momentarily flit down to yours, but yours are still facing up.

“Of course it isn’t, silly,” you seem to notice him looking. Your glittering smile turns back to him and the sharp genuineness of it makes the stolen blood in his veins freeze. “But it’s pretty. A little serendipitous, wouldn’t you say?”

To think that you mean every word, what is he supposed to do with that? Astarion stands on the edge of a precipice, and tumbling over it is a very real possibility. His face drops to your hands, still wounded around his. It’s an oddly comforting sensation to know that you’re holding on.

All this freedom could make him tip over, and fall up into the sky that feels so big. But then you’re speaking again and his glassy eyes have to focus.

“Give me your other hand, dear,” you gesture, seeking out some other part of him to keep warm. Every inch of him is freezing, he doesn’t know why you bother.

But he gives you his other hand, he has no other choice. It’s either that or falling, and he doesn’t want to fall. Your fingers squeeze around his, your thumb dragging over the bumps in his knuckles.

“We’ll need a bit of luck, but I think we can outrun winter,” you say.

“I doubt I’ll notice,” he replies. “I don’t really feel temperatures the way I once did. It’s only variations on the similar, now.”

“Oh,” you say, looking down at his hands held in your lap. Maybe the pointlessness of the gesture dawns on you the way it did minutes ago for him. “Is this a good variation?”

You have that tone in your voice, the one that makes him feel so safe. A secret bubbles up in his throat, thick as blood but bitter instead of sweet. The answer isn’t what you want, it really isn’t any different, but the truth runs deeper than the clinical response.

“I think it matters very little, whether I am warm or not,” he admits. But before your face can fall, as he knows it will, he adds, “But I happen to be enjoying myself regardless.”

You brighten, and he feels a cleaving in his chest. Like you’ve taken his dagger and attempted to split the right side of his ribs to the left, it hurts. Do you mean to get at his heart? It’s difficult to say for certain any more.

“Then that is all that matters,” you exclaim. You beam, content with his honesty. If only he were.

Your joy gives him the urge to pull away, to end it and wish you’d never spoken to him like. To wish he’d never said a word. And yet even as Astarion grapples with his confession, he wishes you’d ask something else. He’s never met another soul interested, let alone willing to stomach it.

He’d tell you it all, he thinks. Right this moment under the stars, he’d say every awful and beautiful thing that he feels. But you stay silent.