#this is partly about astarion

[dillpickledipp2]

If a vampire is a druid, and they transform, does their animal form also burn in daylight? I assume yes, but I've never seen anything explicitly say so

[messiahzzz]

it’s been almost a year now… is the bg3 fandom finally ready to talk about how gale’s “hubris” is the sole product of actively feeding his insecurities further and straight up denying him help & guidance when he was at his lowest and needed it most. it’s not one of his core traits and never was. he isn’t some closeted power hungry monster that is just waiting to be enabled. what he wants is admiration, recognition and acceptance. which is also what he sought from mystra before the orb disaster happened. he had no desire whatsoever to become a god himself or challenge her rule, he simply wanted to be seen as sufficient in her eyes (“to serve her better”). to be as equal as he could possibly be in a relationship with a literal deity. he has a deep passion for magic and knowledge that affects almost all areas of his life and enjoys the display thereof. he wants to be the smartest person in the room and enjoys when his work is recognized. he may be perceived as arrogant when it comes to his skill, but he IS NOT hubristic. it truly takes so little for him to be wholly content.

[pennamepersona]

the thing that finally let me understand wyll was seeing a couple posts about how he's like. unfazed in the beginning. this is normal to him

very "the day you were taken by the nautiloid was the worst day of your life. for the blade of frontiers, it was tuesday"

[wetcatspellcaster]

You've talked a bit about the Ascendant's motivations, but I have a question about Rosalie's. We know that she was trying to find ways to "fix her mistake", so to say, in not objecting to the ritual and letting Astarion ascend. True resurrection, Wish, etc. Obviously none of them were panning out until she met Hemlock and potentially has a lead for deciphering Wish.

Assuming he never did anything to lure her in, would she have kept looking for a solution for the rest of her life? Or would she have eventually given up and just kept in hiding forever so he couldn't find her? 10 years of looking for a solution to a seemingly impossible problem sound draining even without having to magically hide from your crazy ex and never being able to have another long term partner due to fears of what said crazy ex would do.

hahahaahahahaahahahahahahaha! this question! this question hurts me! in the best way!

so. um. here's the funny thing about your first Tav being defined by her break up with an ex that triggered her agoraphobia/anxiety/severe depression that then defined the next several years of her life and leaves her feeling like she'll never escape the shadow of her ex UNTIL she gets medicated by a tadpole and meets a new group of friends and then the new partner she's convinced she's unworthy of-

um-

yeah. so. I don't think. Rosalie. is very good at moving on.

Her break-up with Threnn was messy (I do stand by my argument made in Party Favours about it not being *about* Threnn, but about Rose's own mental health decline, and how trapped she becomes in one version of herself. my own understanding of my own depression means that the events that can lead people into their worst state often becomes decontextualised from the events that lead up to it, etc. Rose doesn't mourn Threnn, she mourns the person she was before Threnn, and feels trapped in the place she has reached, entirely separately of Threnn). But all that being said, the break up with Threnn did not have a body count. this one has a bodycount.

I genuinely do not think, given the steps she has taken to isolate herself and thus prevent herself from forming new, meaningful connections, Pieces Rosalie would never have stopped looking for a cure. it is extremely unhealthy, and it is extremely draining. Both parties in Pieces are very fucked up, it's just that Rosalie is quiet and self-destructive about it, and it's easier to stealth being fucked up when your ex is over there doing... whatever the fuck that is.

She would've continued to have a life that, from the outside, looks like it's successful and independent of Astarion and Ascendency, and is, at it's core.... completely defined by Astarion and Ascendency. She would have been very sad, and very lonely. I imagine she'd looked for cures so that her loneliness had a projected end-date, more for herself than anybody else.

Both of them become the worst and saddest versions of themselves in that timeline, the end. :(((((((

[nyx-allyster]

I've had some thoughts for an Astarion/Tav fanfiction for a while... I started writing it at work to kill time. Don't know what direction it will go as it's been a decade since I've written anything of the sort.

If anyone wants to help me overlook drafts, please send me a message! I'd love some constructive criticism before I do make a post!

[kittyplayz1cantmsg4somereason]

I wish there was a dialogue option to tell that Drow in Moonrise that doesn’t seem to take no for an answer about Astarion biting her that you have a different suggestion for how she could experience the sensation she described imagining experiencing from a vampire bite and basically threaten to slit her throat because that’s what I wanted to do in that moment

[karliahs]

i love all fic comments but the ones that get me most are the ones where people suggest something i wrote like. changed something for them or helped them understand or realise something

someone recently commented that a fic i wrote (one i do not even really remember writing or thinking was very good) helped them articulate the kinds of supportive things they want to express to their partner with chronic pain. several people have said fics I wrote about not being obligated to forgive people have helped them reinforce to themselves that they don't need to do that. someone being like the panic attack you wrote with somewhat atypical symptoms is exactly how I have them and I've never seen that reflected before

Idk this doesn't have a point except I love everyone who has ever read my things and maybe I should write again and take my own writing with the seriousness that people receive it even if that feels scary and embarrassing

[invinciblerodent]

with all the ""breeding"" oriented confessions and posts popping up on my dash [because that's apparently what you freaks (affectionate) are into], it doesn't escape my notice that out of literally ALL the character combos I've dreamed up in the past ten years, only like two are actually, physically capable of any form of reproduction, and there's only one (Harwen and Josephine) that I hc has, reproduced, once. They have one daughter, and that's it.

There's only one couple like that in this game, and that's a pair of idiots I honestly cannot picture ever actually wanting/having kids.

Going down the list and ruling out all the obvious plumbing issues (and vampirism) literally only leaves me with Petyr and Shadowheart, which..... my cringefail son should not be anyone's dad. That's the kind of emotional trauma that makes future DnD characters.

I mean, parents of the year right there: the reclusive woodsman who voluntarily exiled himself to the forest for being such a bitch, and the woman raised in an abusive cult with zero idea of what a parent-child relationship is even like. Oh, and their sometimes-boyfriend, the one sorta halfway mentally stable adult in the whole equation... whose entire presence in their life is that he just occasionally drops by for a threesome and breakfast, maybe a few days up to a tenday, and then dips out for another few months. (Yeah, here comes your Uncle Halsin, he's come to teach you about the forest and to fuck your dad while your mom watches. Just the thought has me snort-laughing.)

Dungeons and Dragons? Naaaah. It's Damage and Daddy Issues.

[sky-scribbles]

Something I love about confronting Cazador is how he obviously never processes that Astarion has friends until it's too late.

Petras and Dalyria must have mentioned that Astarion wasn't alone when they met him, but when you read Cazador's journal? He's 100% fixated on Astarion. How Astarion stood in the sun, how Astarion was willing and able to disobey him. And when Astarion shows up, Cazador barely acknowledges the party at all - and sure, that's partly because this is Astarion's moment in the narrative, but Cazador doesn't so much as ask why these random strangers are there! They're not part of his plans, so they don't exist.

And then they immediately save his errant spawn from the ritual and start beating his ass.

Just. What must have been going through Cazador's head when that fight starting turning against him? 'Is that... the Blade of Frontiers? Why is a monster hunter - and is that a cleric? - helping a vampire spawn? An undead? Ah, but they must be treating it as a necessary evil to have a chance to slay me, of course - hold on, why is the cleric healing Astarion? Why does that wizard keep Counterspelling everything I'm casting at Astarion, why waste the spells when I'm not even targeting him? Did... did that druid just cast Daylight on Astarion's weapons? And that brute of a tiefling - that's not just disgust in her eye when she looks at me, it's fury - and she keeps putting herself in front of Astarion, why in the hells would she - she's running right at me- '

I hope that one of the last things Cazador ever knew was the choking realisation that Astarion didn't just come back strong, or free. Astarion came back loved.

[dngrs-untld-hrshps-unnmbrd]

Mating Season

Halsin x Female Reader | sexual frustration | sexual tension | growly bear halsin | totally adoring halsin | horny bear mating instincts | semi-shifted sex | fluff | smut | nsfw

How Halsin’s romance might have played out if we could have had his kisses, adoration, and been totally railed senseless by Oak Daddy from the end of Act I. An ode to Halsin’s hairy chest, big arms, and the vein that I know stands out so thickly on his *muffled horny noises*

After a long and tiring day of fighting off goblins as you search for the Githyanki Crèche, you groan in relief as you sink into the cool waters of the river. Everyone else is back at camp and you’re able to enjoy the currents swirling around your naked body. 

You float in the water, thinking about how much your party has grown in the past few weeks. First Shadowheart, Gale, and Astarion, then Lae’zel, Wyll, and Karlach, and finally Halsin, the wildshape druid you rescued from the goblins. He’s a focused member of the group, a valuable healer, and an unstoppable force in battle. You occasionally feel things turning against you in a fight, and then Halsin is there, supporting the group and laying down swathes of flame, lightning and ice. His bear shape never fails to strike fear into the hearts of your enemies. 

Around the fire at night, he talks openly about his quest to free the Shadow-Cursed lands, his admiration for the party, and his praise for your leadership. His gentle words about you have your body prickling with awareness of his. 

That warm smile of his. His large and clever hands. His deep, gentle voice. Everything about this man makes you tingle all the way down to your toes. Whenever you think his gaze is lingering on your mouth, he murmurs goodnight to you and leaves your side. You watch him go, wishing that instead he would reach out and touch you.

An angry, snarling sound fills the air and you sit up in the water. Not far from you, an enormous bear, grunting and breathing hard, walks heavily down the riverbank. It’s huge, and its muscular body blocking out the setting sun, and from the noises it's making and its attitude, it’s a hair's-breadth from lashing out at anything that moves. 

You freeze, not daring even to breathe, hoping with everything you have that the animal will turn around and head back the other way. Instead, it launches itself into the water with an almighty splash. 

As it disappears beneath the surface, you notice a faint scar over the bear’s right eye, as if it’s been clawed. You recognize that scar. 

Wait, is this--

Golden light flashes. The water seethes. A man stands up where there was a bear just moments ago, water cascading from his body. Halsin, and he must have stripped before he changed into wildshape for now he’s completely naked, standing hip-deep in the water. 

He’s partly turned away from you but you can tell his manner is no less worked up than it was in bear form. He swipes his hands angrily through his dripping hair and breathes hard, the muscles of his shoulders and arms clenched in frustration. 

Halsin is one of the gentlest-natured men you’ve ever met, most of the time. Like nature, he too can be wild, his eyes flashing and his voice breaking like thunder over you when he’s frustrated or disappointed, such as when he was remonstrating Kagha for the Rite of Thorns. How magnificent he was that day. 

But what is he restless for now? He stands in the water, looking around at the forest, gripped with frustration, and when he turns a little more your way you can see that the root of his cock is thickened in a tell-tale manner. 

Ah. 

That kind of frustration. 

You quietly make your way to the edge of the river where a willow tree is trailing in the water, moving as carefully and as quietly as you can. This feels like a private moment you’re intruding on. Even though you don’t mean to spy, it feels like you are. The fronds of the willow provide a little cover for you, and hopefully Halsin will cool off and leave the way he came. 

The dice do not roll your way this evening as he approaches you, seeking deeper water. A moment later, your gazes lock, and his eyes widen in surprise.

‘What are you doing there?’

‘I wasn’t spying on you,’ you tell him quickly. ‘I thought you needed some peace, so I was waiting here quietly.’

His eyes run over you, your back pressed against the river bank and cowering amid the willow leaves. 

Halsin heaves a regretful sigh. ‘I frightened you, didn’t I? I am sorry. It’s all right, I am myself again.’ 

He smiles and holds out his hand. It’s a tight smile, like he’s forcing it for you, but you’re no longer worried a bear is about to disembowel you.  

You place your cool fingers into his large, hot ones and let him draw you slowly out of your hiding place. The water is deep enough here that your nakedness is covered, and so is his.

You relax as you gaze up at him, enjoying the sensation of Halsin holding your hand. Quietly enjoying the sight of his bare chest and handsome face. You hope he might walk you into the shallows so you can be naked together, but he remains in deep water, sunk in thought.

‘The river is yours. I’ll leave you to enjoy it,’ you murmur, and glance to where you left your clothes. 

Halsin’s fingers are still tightly twined through yours beneath the water. He seems to be in a world of his own as he gazes at your mouth, your throat, the droplets of water sliding through your wet hair and down your shoulders. A world that includes you. A world where you’re touching one another. 

‘Halsin?’ you ask tentatively. Hopefully. If he wants to move closer and kiss you, that’s more than okay with you. After a long and dusty day, there’s nothing you’d like more than exploring his body in the cool water. That hairy chest of his. His hard muscles. You long to run your tongue over him. Flex your fingers on his biceps. Trace the red tattoo on his cheek.

Halsin comes back into himself with a deep inhale, and he lets go of your hand. ‘Then I’ll see you back at camp.’ He moves away from you through the currents. 

As you push the water from your body and dress in your clothes, you search for Halsin in the river, but he’s disappeared around a bend. 

***

Later around the campfire, you’re hyper aware of Halsin as you talk with Gale about his home in Baldur’s Gate. Halsin is silent, the campfire flickering over his handsome face. You try not to pay him any more attention than you do the others, but your interest in him has spilled over into blazing attraction.

Your gazes lock and Halsin’s brows are drawn tightly together. 

Is he glaring at you? 

A moment later he gets to his feet and, unnoticed by the others, slips away into the darkness. Something’s eating at that man and you wish you knew what.

A short time later, you take a bottle down to the river to refill it with water before turning and heading for your bed. As you round the corner of the ruin where you’ve made your camp, you run straight into Halsin. 

His eyes widen and they flare with heat and surprise, and then he quickly looks away and moves past you.

‘Have I done something to make you angry with me?’ you call after him. 

Halsin stops dead. He stares straight ahead for a moment, and then slowly turns to you, shaking his head. ‘Far from it. I am worked up and frustrated, but not with anger.’

Maybe his frustrations are because of you, and that’s a thought you don’t know what to do with when he keeps avoiding you. 

Not knowing what else to say, you tell him, ‘We will free the Shadow-Cursed lands soon. I know we will.’

He breathes out heavily, his expression troubled. ‘I’m not thinking of the Shadow-Curse right now, even though I should be. It is more important than anything I...’ He trails off, but his gaze lingers on your mouth. ‘...want.’

Halsin steps closer, and you feel the heat blazing off his chest. His warmth and bulk are so welcoming and you crave to reach out and touch him. The backs of his fingers caress your hair. The lightest of touches. Then he takes a handful of your hair and dips his head, bringing the strands to his nose. 

‘You smell wonderful.’ He heaves a deep sigh, and whispers, ‘Can I hold you for a moment?’

That sounds lovely to you, and you nod. 

Halsin wraps an arm around your waist, scoops you against him, and buries his face in your neck. ‘By Silvanus, your scent is sweet,’ he groans. ‘I caught it when we first met, in that foul goblin nest. How it pleased me. Getting to know you these past few weeks has been even sweeter.’

Your hands are plastered against his chest and so is your body. He’s saying everything you hoped to hear. More than you hoped to hear. He has such a beautiful way with words. You turn your head so he can kiss you, but he still refrains. 

Taking a ragged breath, he releases you and steps back. ‘I’m sorry. It’s always difficult this time of year.’

You miss his warmth so much that you shiver. ‘What time of year?’

He gazes at you for a long time. ‘You may laugh, but I’ll tell you. It’s bear mating season.’

You don’t laugh, but your eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

‘I know--I’m no bear,’ Halsin says with a laugh of his own, ‘but I spend so much time in wildshape that bear instincts tug on my heart and...other parts of me. I return to my own form and unfortunately the needs do not dissipate. In fact, they worsen, because it is not a bear I want. When she comes close to me smelling like spring and honey and warm sunshine I can’t help but crave her.’ A smile glimmers on his lips.

Enough being vague. You want to hear him say it. You step closer and put a hand against his chest. ‘A general someone, or anyone in particular?’

He groans softly and captures your face in his hands. He drinks you in and swipes his thumb across your lips. The gesture is soft, and full of the promise of his kiss.

‘You are someone I admire and I think I could grow to care deeply about,’ he murmurs. ‘I care about you so much already. Any little scratch you receive I want to push Shadowheart out of the way and tend to you myself.’

Your heart soars.

‘But this isn’t how or when I wanted to begin anything with you. I have to walk away.’

Disappointment plummets through you. 

He’s still holding your face and his expression is conflicted. It seems he wants to put an end to this for now but can’t bring himself to do it. 

‘I can walk away, if that helps?’

His eyes fill with gratitude and longing. ‘Please. That would be a mercy. Know that when the time comes, I will come to you with more than lust in my heart.’

You nod, trailing your fingers down his chest as you step back, but you fail to see what’s wrong with him desiring you. ‘Whatever you need. Of course.’

‘I hope I haven’t offended you.’

You smile gently at him. ‘Your desire is so far from offensive. Please know that I don’t demand more of your attention than you’re willing to give. The Shadow Cursed lands are your priority and I’m...’ How to put this delicately? I’m here for you and you can rail me senseless in between your duties whenever you want to let off steam. That’s what you want to say, but you’re too shy to say it. ‘...Here. Your friend. Always.’

Halsin seems to catch your meaning anyway as his jaw flexes and he nods slowly. 

You promised him you would walk away, and you do, and though you give him ample time to allow him to pull you back, the next sound you hear is a clash and a growl, and a flare of golden light. When you glance over your shoulder, a bear is thundering into the woods on all fours. 

***

A few days later, you’re returning to camp feeling like you’ve been put through a meat grinder, and your companions haven’t fared much better. Gale is unusually silent and covered in blood. Shadowheart is exhausted and dragging her feet. You’re trying not to limp because she and Halsin have already cast so much healing magic. Something’s wrong with your leg, but you’ll see to it yourself when you’re alone. 

The others bid you tired farewells as they head for their tents, but someone catches your arm and holds you back.

‘Oak Father, you’re bleeding. Why didn’t you say anything?’ 

Halsin is staring at your legs, and you stare with him. Blood is pooling around your foot. Oh, that’s not good. 

‘I can tend to it myself after I’ve had some rest--’

Your words are cut off as the massive druid picks you up in his arms and carries you into a crumbling barn. Automatically, you wrap your arms around his neck and lean against the solid bulk of his chest. Halsin lays you down on a pallet and helps you remove your armour, revealing a ragged gash on the top of your thigh. Your clothes have to be cut away until your legs are bare.

Halsin looks exhausted and has dark circles under his eyes. It seems he’s been taking little rest as he roams the forests nightly as a bear. When he reaches for you to lay healing hands on your wound, you place a hand on his wrist.

‘You don’t have to do this right now. I’ll bandage myself up and someone can heal me after they’ve rested.’

Halsin raises challenging eyebrows at you. ‘You believe I don’t have the strength to heal you myself? That I’ll walk away from the most important person in my life and leave her bleeding?’

You moisten your lips, trying not to show how much his words have affected you. The most important person in his life? Suddenly you don’t feel injured at all, and he hasn’t even healed you yet.

‘I have more than enough magic left for this. Now, lay back and let me do my work, and then you can get back to yours.’

You settle back on the pallet and gaze at the cobwebby rafters. Halsin’s hands hover over your thigh, and a warm, delicious feeling spreads through your leg, and then up between your thighs. Your head falls back in relief and pleasure. 

Even Halsin makes a surprised noise. ‘That felt...’ He rubs your now-healed high, massaging the last of the tension and pain from your muscles. ‘That felt different. How’s your thigh now?’ 

You can’t help but moan and arch your back a little at his touch. ‘Good.’ Your voice comes out in a breathy whisper.

‘Just good?’ He strokes his palm over where there was a cut just moments ago. 

‘Halsin, please, you make me feel heavenly,’ you whimper. The words pass your lips without thinking. You reach up to take hold of his shoulders so you can pull him down to kiss you, but pull back before you can touch him. 

This isn’t what he wants. Your hands clench on the pallet, feeling your core ache with need. As soon as he leaves, you can get yourself off thinking about him. 

‘Would you like me to go?’ he asks softly. 

‘I never want you to go.’

His hand rests lightly on your leg. 

You open your eyes and gaze up at him, and he’s sitting so close to you. ‘But if you stay, you’re going to see me touching myself.’ Then you smile at him, remembering your last conversation. ‘I would love for you to see that. As a friend.’

You want him to see you. You want him to participate.

He smiles and leans down to you, and runs the blade of his nose up your cheek. ‘I can’t think of anything more wonderful after a long, hard day, my dear friend.’

Halsin lays down beside you and props his head against his fist. With gentle fingers, he helps you to drag your underwear down your legs and cast them aside. As your teeth sink into your lower lip, you gently touch yourself, your eyes on his handsome face. Halsin strokes your thighs, your stomach, finds the fastenings on your clothes and loosens them. As he pulls back your bodice, revealing your breasts, he lowers his head to take one of your nipples in his mouth. 

You cry out and flex up into him. Heat is gathering within you. You suck on your lower lip and release it. ‘Please--your fingers--I need--’ you manage between pants. You can barely get the words out, but he understands. Halsin drags two fingers through your sex, making them slippery, and then sinks them inside you. 

Another loud cry from you. Gods, he feels perfect.

Halsin groans and kisses your throat, murmuring, ‘You’re so tight around me. Have you been as frustrated as I am?’ He pumps his thick fingers in and out of you, slowly at first, and then faster.

Yes you have, the godsdamned stubborn bear of man. He should have pulled you into his arms that day in the river and let you suck all the frustration from his body out through his cock. 

‘So frustrated,’ you whimper. ‘Please, that feels so good. Don’t stop, please don’t stop.’ 

He brushes his lips over yours. ‘I won’t stop. You’re always so beautiful, but like this, all of nature pales in comparison.’

You reach down and lay your hand over his wrist, adoring the tension and flex of his muscles in his arm as he moves inside you. Your fingers keep moving on your clit as you moan and cry out his name, and when you come you dig your nails into his flesh, and press your feet into the ground so he can fuck you even harder with his fingers.

When you fall back exhausted, Halsin sits up and spreads your thighs open, trailing his fingers over your sex and drinking in the sight of you as you catch your breath. ‘Your body is wondrous.’ He leans over and kisses you, his tongue caressing yours. ‘Will you rest well tonight?’ 

You nod, feeling drunk from his kiss and your climax. 

He smiles. ‘Then I’ll rest well too, knowing that you’re sleeping soundly. Thank you for sharing this beautiful moment with me.’

As he sits up, you notice that he’s hard inside his tight pants. Excessively hard. Huge in fact. He shouldn’t be leaving, he should be pulling off his clothes and pounding the living daylights out of you until he also gets the release he needs. 

But he’s gone before you can call him back to you. That’s not why he just blew your mind, was it? He healed you, and now he wants you to get some rest. Druid’s orders, apparently. 

You smile and roll over, and fall into a doze. 

***

The next morning, before anyone has arisen, Halsin finds you coming back from the river. You smile at him, thinking he looks so handsome in the morning light, and you expect him to keep moving past you. Instead, he stops and smiles at you, as if basking in the sight of you is all he wants right now. 

‘May I have a kiss?’ you ask hopefully. Perhaps he’s decided not to want anything for himself right now, but he still wants to make you happy. 

Without needing to be asked twice, Halsin grasps you around the waist with his large hands and walks you back against the wall, kissing you enthusiastically. ‘I can still smell you on my fingers this morning. I could smell you all night. You are a delight.’

Your lips part for his so he can kiss you even deeper. With your arms around his neck, you revel in the sensation of his mouth on yours. 

‘I find you irresistible.’ Another kiss. ‘But we have much to do today.’ Another kiss. 

‘We do,’ you say, smiling as he kisses you again. 

He gazes down at you for a moment, a slight frown between his brows. ‘If you need more, know that I won’t be offended if you take another lover. Nature intends for us to roam and be free.’

You have considered that, if not someone at camp, then a handsome stranger at a tavern, but you’d only be thinking about Halsin the whole time. ‘And if I don’t want to?’

‘You must do as pleases you,’ he replies, and kisses you again.

You guess that he didn’t tell you this for idle reasons, but to let you know about his own preferences. You reach up and stroke your fingers through his russet hair. ‘I have always wanted my own person, but to roam with them. Share everything with them. I would miss you too much if I was to roam without you.’

He smiles down at you. ‘Us, with others? I would like that, in time. You’re more than enough for me, but I wouldn’t wish for you to be denied anything. Seeing you with another lover, and participating as well...it sounds wonderful.’ Then he steps away from you. ‘But we are getting ahead of ourselves. My thoughts turn to other things for now. But they will turn back to you.’

With a final warm squeeze of your hand, he leaves you, but your heart is lighter than it’s been in a long time. 

***

Two nights later, you’re awoken by snarling and roaring in the distance, and you sit bolt upright. It sounds like two large animals are fighting in the woods. 

Only Astarion is awake. ‘What a ridiculous racket,’ he mutters with a scowl, before licking his thumb and turning the page of the book he’s reading. 

You look over at Halsin’s pallet, knowing it’s going to be empty before you lay eyes on it, but your stomach drops just the same when you see that it is. You scramble to your feet and set off at a run into the darkness. 

You follow the roaring and snarling and it doesn’t take long to find two bears fighting with teeth bared and swipes of their claws. You recognise Halsin from the scars over his eye.

What can you do to help him? A spell? A cantrip?  

Before you can decide, Halsin swipes the other bear so hard across the snout that it reels back, and then turns and runs away into the woods. 

Halsin paces up and down for a moment, and then golden light ripples, nearly blinding you, and when you open your eyes again, he’s striding toward you. His chest is heaving and blood is pouring from scratches and bites across his shoulders and throat. Nothing life threatening, but he’d be in pain if he wasn’t so angry.

‘That bear was looking for a mate, and I wasn’t having it prowling around her when I haven’t even tasted her myself.’

Halsin when he’s feeling himself wouldn’t say something so uncharacteristically possessive. It must be the mating season instincts overriding his natural feelings. ‘That bear wouldn’t have been interested in me.’ Also, you could have tasted me by now if you’d wanted to.

He doesn’t seem to have heard you as he glares into the darkness. Suddenly, he rounds on you. ‘It’s dangerous out here. You shouldn’t have come. Go back to bed.’

You fold your arms and stay where you are. The big alpha bear can throw his weight around, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to jump to obey his commands. ‘Shouldn’t have come? Would you have ignored me if I was being attacked in the woods?’

Halsin takes a deep breath and some of the anger melts from his face. He pushes his hands through his hair and shakes his head. ‘Of course not, I would never abandon you like that. Thank you for coming out here to help me. I promise I’m not ungrateful. I’m all out of sorts because...’ He gestures vaguely at himself and the woods around you both. 

You smile at him. ‘I know. It’s mating season.’

You help him pick dirt and gravel out of his cuts before he casts healing magic on himself, but you’re not ready to leave him and go to bed. The river is close by and you take his hand and lead him to the water. 

‘Let’s wash the blood and dirt off you.’

At the riverbank, hesitantly you reach for his clothes. He says nothing but he’s watching you with such intensity, and so you find the fastenings and help him out of them. With gentle fingers, he does the same for you. The night air is warm and still. Crickets are chirping and the river makes gentle rushing noises. The two of you are standing so close that you’re breathing each other’s breaths. His massive chest lifts and falls. Your nipples tighten with awareness of him. You don’t want to stare but you can’t help but look at this beautiful man as you undress him. 

Halsin helps you out of your underwear, and his cock bumps against your thigh. He’s so hard that he’s standing to attention, his foreskin drawn back, a drop of pre-cum at the tip. Your mouth waters, and you want to run your tongue along the thick vein that stands out on his shaft.

‘Sorry. Ignore me,’ he mutters. 

You don’t want to ignore the most beautiful cock you’ve ever seen, but you keep your hands to yourself and look up at him. ‘I want to feel flattered. Should I feel flattered?’

‘You know I think you’re wonderful,’ he breathes, caressing your face. 

Oh, by all the gods, then fuck me, please. 

‘Would you want me even if it wasn’t mating season?’

‘Of course I would, though I’d probably be better at keeping that to myself. You wouldn’t awaken to hear me fighting other bears in the woods, or see me staring at you with longing across the campfire. I’d still feel the same way, but I wouldn’t be so obvious about it. Probably.’

‘Do you mind that mating season makes you feel and act this way?’

He smiles and shakes his head. ‘It is who I am, and another connection I have to nature.’

‘Halsin. For a wildshape druid who believes in going with what’s natural, you’re very stubborn about resisting what your body is telling you it wants.’

A smile curves his lips. ‘You may be right. I’ve told myself that focusing on the Shadow Curse is the right and only thing to do, but...’

Halsin ducks his head and slants his mouth over yours. The kiss is so fierce and sudden, and pleasure takes a swan dive through your body. He wraps his arms around you and gathers you to him.

‘This isn’t how I imagined things between us,’ he murmurs. ‘I intended to come to you after the curse is lifted and declare my feelings for you, and tell you that my unburdened heart is yours.’ 

‘Please still do that,’ you breathe, planting soft kisses again and again on his mouth. ‘I would love that. But don’t walk away from me now.’ 

‘You want me, even though my mind is often on things other than you?’

What a romantic Halsin is, wanting to give you his whole heart at once, or nothing at all. ‘Of course I do,’ you tell him, your fingers stroking his bare back. You don’t need that declaration yet. You just need him. 

Halsin lifts you in his arms and carries you into the water, gazing into your eyes. The water flows around your bodies as he kisses you and places you on your feet.

He nods at something over your shoulder. ‘I have to taste you. Turn around and put your hands on that rock.’

You do as he asks, standing thighs-deep in the water and bent over with your hands braced against the river bank. Halsin kneels down in the water and cups your ass. 

‘So beautiful...’ You feel his tongue run up your sex, and you moan and close your eyes. He’s slow and languorous about it. Not trying to make you come, just tasting you thoroughly and enjoying the sensation of you against his tongue. 

Halsin stands up and when you glance over your shoulder you see him gazing at your sex as he strokes you with his fingers and fists his cock slowly up and down. 

‘Can I have you, sweet one?’ he asks huskily. 

‘Please, gods, yes .’ You’ll go crazy if he holds back a moment longer.

You feel him step closer, and the blunt head of his cock slides against your slippery entrance. He feels alarmingly thick and you take a deep breath and try to relax. 

With a muttered oath, he sinks into you. As much of him as he can, anyway. Gods, he’s a lot . You walk your feet apart, trying to accommodate more of him. 

‘Too much?’ he asks, hesitating. 

You shake your head desperately. ‘Not too much. More, please.’

He fucks you slowly, working himself deeper by delicious increments, while your cries fill the night air along with his ragged breathing. His blunt nails scratch your flesh. He roughly squeezes handfuls of your ass. 

You reach down between your legs and touch yourself, and you grow wetter and wetter, allowing him to fuck you in long, smooth strokes. Every single one makes your insides light up. Your orgasm is barrelling down on you surprisingly fast. 

‘Please, fuck me hard, I’m going to come,’ you beg him. 

Halsin groans and takes your hips in a secure grip and slams into you, over and over, hard, brutal and heavenly thrusts. You push against the rock to hold you steady as a wild, untamable sensation crashes over you, and you cry out loud enough for the whole forest to hear you. 

Your head is hanging low and you’re panting as you feel Halsin draw out of you.

‘But you haven’t come,’ you protest, straightening up and turning around. It’s what you want, to see and feel this beautiful man let go. 

He takes your hand and helps you out of the river. ‘I’m not done with you yet.’

He lays back on the grass and pulls you astride him so your thighs are straddling him. ‘I want to see you like this as well.’

Hungry for more, you grasp his cock and sink down his length. Halsin groans and his head tips back, and he squeezes both your breasts in his large hands. His throat is so beautiful, and so is his chest. You draw patterns in his chest hair as you move up and down his length. 

Weeks of frustration and wanting him haven’t been fulfilled by one climax, and soon you feel another one gathering within you. He watches you with a smile as you desperately moan and pant his name. As your cries reach a crescendo, Halsin plants his feet securely against the ground and pushes sharply up into you, over and over, making you shatter around him even harder than before.

You collapse forward on his chest, weakened and helpless, his cock still lodged deep inside you. 

‘That was wonderful,’ you moan, your cheek plastered against his chest. ‘Give me a moment and we can change positions. I’m not stopping until you come.’

He rubs circles on your back. ‘I think I might shift into wildshape if we keep going. I can feel the need getting stronger and stronger.’ 

‘I don’t mind. Your bear form is pretty sexy.’

He laughs softly, a surprised sound. ‘Really? I’m pleased you think so.’

Even sexier is the way he looks while he’s changing, his body even bulkier and hair sprouting everywhere. ‘Can you change part ways?’

His hand stops moving on your back as he considers this. ‘I can. I think it might be easier for me to maintain that, rather than one or the other.’

Halsin rolls you both over until you’re on your back in the grass and pinned beneath him. With a heavy hand on your inner thigh, he pushes your knees up to your chest and thrusts deeper, and then again. 

‘By Silvanus, you feel wonderful,’ he pants.

A ripple goes through his body. His eyes turn fiercely golden. The hair thickens across his chest and spreads over his shoulders and down his arms. His top lip pulls back from his teeth, revealing thick incisors. His cock swells to what feels like twice its size inside you. You gaze at him in wonder. He looks incredible like this. 

As he continues to pump his cock into you, you press your hands against his muscular, hairy stomach, struggling to accommodate all of him. 

‘I’m hurting you,’ he realises, his voice more growl than words. ‘I can change back.’

‘No, don’t stop. Just slow down for a moment. It’s a good problem to have.’ You reach down to the place where you’re joined and wrap your fingers around his slippery thickness. Gods, that’s wonderful. So is his bulk looming over you and the rich, animal scent of his body. He thrusts carefully, watching you closely, his golden gaze roaming over you. 

‘So beautiful, sweet one,’ he rumbles. ‘Are you sure you like me like this?’

‘Yes, oh gods, yes.’

With every thrust, it’s getting easier for him to slide his whole length deep inside you, and pleasure stabs through you every time he bottoms out. 

You reach up and cup his furred cheek. ‘I didn’t think it was possible, but you’re even sexier like this. How does it feel for you?’

He groans and seems to take courage from your words. ‘Like I’m finally free. No longer fighting what I crave.’ The speed of his thrusts pick up, and he devours you hungrily. ‘You’re so good to me.’  

His breathing becomes a throaty snarl. His claws dig lovingly into your thigh. His hips move in a relentless rhythm, long thrusts, and then shorter, urgent ones, and you can tell he’s nearing his peak. You hold onto his shoulders for dear life as his body stiffens and his climax breaks through him, and he throws his head back.

With a groan, he sinks down onto his elbow and buries his face in your throat. As you hold him tight, you feel him shift back to his human form, his skin smooth and damp with perspiration. 

Halsin lifts his head and kisses you. ‘I’ve never done anything like that before. Was it all right? I didn’t hurt you, did I?’

You hasten to assure him that he didn’t and it was everything you wanted.

He smiles. ‘How wonderful you are.’

You stroke his sweaty hair back. Neither have I. You’re so beautiful always, and especially seeing you like that, through wildshape eyes.’

He rolls onto his side in the grass and wraps both his arms around you, keeping you tight against his chest. ‘I shouldn’t have been so stubborn. The world feels so much better now I have you in my arms.’

‘How long does mating season last?’ you ask. You hope it’s a long time, and he needs you often. 

He laughs, a deep sound reverberating through his chest. ‘It’s every moment I lay eyes on you, sweet one.’

‘I hope that I haven’t distracted you from your duties.’

He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. ‘I’m more motivated than ever.’

You lay like that together in the grass until Halsin feels your cooling body shiver. 

He helps you to your feet and draws you into his arms for one last, tender kiss. Cradling your face in his hands, he murmurs, ‘You are the person I admire most in the world. I feel honoured by every moment I spend by your side.’ He kisses you again. ‘Know that I can’t wait until I’m able to tell you that my whole heart is yours.’

Thank you so much for reading. Please leave me a comment and let me know what you think! Or tell me how the Halsin brainrot is affecting you while playing BG3. I have just about no braincells left by now. Only Daddy Bear remains. 

[lassieposting]

Been thinking a lot lately about romanced Astarion post-spawn ending.

Because like. The Funnest™ thing about cptsd is how much of it gets delayed. When you're trapped in a lengthy, ongoing traumatic situation, you do not have the ability to process and start healing your mental wounds. Your brain and body go into survival mode, and all that matters in the moment is that you somehow cope with the horrors. He wouldn't have been able to even begin dealing with the physical, mental and emotional toll of two hundred years of torture, brutalization and dehumanization while he was under Cazador's control; he is in constant danger, surrounded by sharks in the water, and survival means not letting them smell blood. He can't afford to fall apart, to show weakness. He is shockingly functional and competent in-game, partly because he has to be to work as a game character, but also partly because...it do be like that, to some degree. When death, for whatever reason, is not an option, you just have to shut down and keep going. People adapt in order to survive, and when we learn that showing an "injury" (physical or psychological) only gets us punished, we learn to hide it.

Early-game Astarion is terrified - of Cazador, of Godey, of being hunted down by his siblings, of being staked or sold off at the first opportunity by Tav and the other companions, of turning into a mindflayer, of another painful transformation, of losing himself when he's only just regained his autonomy after two centuries, of what Cazador will do to him if he ever finds him - the man is overwhelmed by fear. He's on thin ice as a vampire, and he's not going to give them any more reason to want him gone. Survival instinct is still in control, and in this new situation, crafting some fragile safety for himself means not only selling his body for protection, but also being useful. Clear-headed. Good in a fight.

Endgame Astarion finds himself in a completely different situation. The time-sensitive overarching threats - Cazador and impending ceremorphosis - have been dealt with. He has a loving, supportive partner he's really starting to feel safe with - Tav/Durge has proved that they're on his side, that their affection is genuine, that they don't just want him for the one thing he's been told he's good for. They've told him they're going to help him find a workaround for his sun allergy. He's getting fed regularly. He has time to stop, and breathe, and just. Recuperate.

For the first time in 200 years, he is safe.

And it will probably take a while to catch up, during which time he will seem to be coping really well, but at some point, his brain is going to realise that he's safe, and it's going to finally start processing the sheer fucking horror he's been through. Since I haven't seen anyone talking about this particular fun aspect of cptsd, allow me to offer u some thoughts on issues Astarion and Tav might end up dealing with in the months/years postgame, during the

✨ Delayed Trauma Response ✨

Memory Gaps: Astarion realising, as he opens up to Tav, that there are entire years or decades of his life from which he has only a handful of memories. Great big blank stretches where he has no idea where he was, who he was with, what was happening to him. Some of the gaps cover years at a time where he was so dissociated and shut down that he just didn't retain any memories of what was going on around him. Some are shorter periods of particularly horrific torture that his brain has deliberately blocked out to protect him.

Recovered Memories: At some point, years into the future when he's done A Lot of healing, he might find that every now and then, a fragment of those lost memories will unexpectedly come back to him. He'll catch a particular scent on the breeze, or overhear a specific phrase in the street, or cross paths with someone whose face is oddly familiar, and he'll get a glimpse of an acute horror he'd filed neatly away where it couldn't hurt him anymore. He very rarely remembers all the context to those flashes of his past. He might recall that he was punished, but not what he was punished for, or he might remember words spoken by a greedy conquest, but be unable to recall the man's face.

Dissociation: Tav knows going into this relationship that Astarion has basically made an art out of dissociating during sex. They also know, from their shared encounter with the drow twins, that he's not great at enforcing his own boundaries - he'll always say he'll speak up and back out if he stops having fun, but in practice he rarely does; he's not used to having the option of saying no to his partner, and being punished if he tries. So they know there's going to be some practice and experimentation and negotiation necessary there, to figure out the rough limits of his comfort zone. But once he starts really processing, there may be days where he just checks out completely. Tav will touch his shoulder, and he'll startle and apologise - "Terribly sorry, darling, I was miles away for a moment there." And Tav will gently point out that he's been sat in the same spot vacantly staring into the middle distance for hours. They've been checking in on him occasionally and this is the first time he's responded. It's unsettling, to say the least.

Lost Time: Astarion was very young when he was turned, physically mature but emotionally juvenile. He was basically an overgrown teenager, in the phase of life where elves are just starting to learn who they are and what they want, and figure out their place in the world. But he never got to do that, because he spent his formative young adult years in a world where everyone became an abuser, where his only means of surviving was to smile and charm and obey while even his basic human dignity was stripped away. He learned that communication is based on manipulation. He learned that the powerful can do whatever they like to the weak. He learned an incredibly toxic, abusive way of life, and that was his family dynamic, his everyday life, for as long as he can remember. Now that he's free and safe, he's realising that the world doesn't actually work that way and that he's now far behind even shorter-lived races in social/emotional development. He's grieving for the person he could've been. He's grieving for the life he could've lived. He's grieving for all the years he already lost, and the ones he'll lose in the future as he flounders to catch up. A decent chunk of his life was stolen from him, and that's time he will never get back.

Flashbacks & Night Terrors: Specifically the kind where your brain convinces you that an injury you had a long time ago is actually an injury you have (or are receiving) right now. There are nights where he'll wake Tav in a panic, because his back feels like it's on fire, he can feel every freshly-carved wound dripping blood and he's in so much pain he doesn't know what else to do. If Tav looks, they see nothing out of the ordinary - old, long-healed scars, same as always. But the pain and the fear and the distress are all very real to him, and all they can do is try to comfort him, cover his back with cool damp cloths or healing salves, remind him he's safe now and they're not leaving him.

Boundary Shifting: Sometimes, Tav can come up and hug him from behind, and he'll melt into them a little bit and go all soft and happy. Other times, he might flinch away or go rigid at the same gesture. A lot of the time, it really depends on how he's feeling on the day, but at least a little bit of it is deliberate - he's pushing to find the limit of just how much autonomy Tav is willing to give him. He wants to know at what point they'll stop respecting his "no". Will they accept it if he doesn't want a hug? If he wants to sleep in his own room tonight? At what point will understanding turn to anger at being rejected? From the drow twins four/fivesome, we also know he's got a tendency to push his own boundaries, and jump into things he's actually not ready for, and Tav would be the one holding his hand through the fallout as he tries to figure out what his own boundaries even are.

Frustration! So, so much frustration. He wants to be Over It already. He wants to move past everything that ever happened to him and never think about it again. He hates that Cazador still has a grip on him, even in death - he doesn't want to give the bastard the satisfaction of dwelling on all his punishments, his cruelties. Sometimes, that frustration is going to explode outwards at Tav - he'll get angry at them for coddling him, or find something small to start a fight over, or he'll set an unreasonable boundary and try to defend it because he's still learning what healthy boundaries look like. Sometimes, it will implode inwards, and that won't be about Tav at all, but they'll get the brunt of it all the same - it might come out as self-loathing or self-punishment, and he'll react by doing something stupid, like trying to drive them away, because having a secure, relatively healthy relationship is terrifying and the instinct is to destroy it before Tav can. There will be yelling and angry tears and deeply unhealthy coping mechanisms, and they'd have to work through that. Trauma is ugly, and Astarion is right at the beginning of a very long journey towards healing.

Abandonment Issues: Astarion wants the relationship to be one between equals, but he's kind of got Tav on a pedestal all the same. They saved him. They helped him get rid of Cazador for good. They chose him and love him despite a wealth of better (in his eyes) options, and all his baggage. They stayed with him even when he has very little to offer them. We know his vanity and obnoxious self-absorption is a fragile attempt to obscure the fact that his self-esteem is in the dirt and he has virtually no self-worth, and there are a couple of occasions in-game where it becomes clear that he's afraid of losing the one person who somehow considers him lovable. After seeing Sebastian and all the other conquests, he begs Tav not to hate him, saying that he did what he had to. If he has a rival for Tav's affections, and Tav informs him that they broke up with the rival to be with Astarion, he's shocked and the first thing out of his mouth is, "You ended things with them for me? Why?" And if Durge tries to break up with him for his own safety, his facade drops and he immediately asks if he did something wrong. So while he's not afraid to argue with Tav, if something happens - like an angry outburst - that upsets or angers them, and he thinks he's at risk of losing that one steady, stable person in his life, he might well cling and overcompensate to try and repair what he thinks is a fracture in their relationship. He'll fawn or beg or crawl into Tav's bed to "apologise" and "make it up to them" because, well, very occasionally it worked on Cazador. With patience and good communication and lots of repeatedly driving the lesson home to overcome 200 years of education to the contrary, he will eventually start to believe that "I'm really pissed off at you right now," does not equate to, "You are the worst mistake I've ever made and I am leaving you."

Panic Attacks: I feel like honestly he'd get some symptoms of these on a fairly regular basis, but he's never been given any option other than just trying to power through them. He's used to realising he's shaking, he's used to feeling like he's watching himself from outside his body, or like he can't breathe even though he doesn't need to. He's very familiar with the sickening fear in his gut, so intense it makes his head spin. He's not used to being comforted or reassured about them - he thinks they're normal. Tav disagrees.

Anyway, cptsd is messy and complicated and often looks very different from person to person so these will not represent everyone's but these are just some ideas for what the ongoing recovery process might make them work through, based on the aspects I'm most familiar with.

Projecting? Who's projecting? I'm not projecting. Shut up.

[y-rhywbeth2]

Actually, forget smashing the furniture, I just remembered that I can eat the servants.

Letting the Legend of Zelda instincts to smash pots and vases take over is somewhat funnier in Cazador's house for some reason. The servants keep telling me to stop, but they can't make me stop.

Servants: 'Everything must be clean! Everything must be perfect!'

Good luck with that!

[bhaalble]

I like that Last Unicorn quote as much as the next guy but I do always wind up feeling a little detached from analysis that paints Astarion's disapproval as purely envy. Partly because. No one's doing this for Lae'zel for instance even though she has similar disapproval and similar trauma (all she can remember is a hostile physically and emotionally exploitative environment which expected perfect strength and obedience from her or else she would be punished or killed). But also partly because it feels pretty detached from everything he actually has to say about it.

The thing about Astarion is he loathes weakness. He loathes sentiment and he loathes dependence. You can see this when he actually opens his mouth up about the people he disapproves of saving, but also incredibly loudly when he talks about the other companions, as well as his fellow spawn. If Lae'zel submits to Vlaakith he talks scornfully about how some people just come to love their chains. He's confused and put off if Wyll submits to Mizora to save his father. In every conversation with his fellow spawn (at least when hes not actively manipulating them) he's dismissive and harsh, and clearly he's perfectly willing to sacrifice them for the sake of himself.

There's an obvious origin point of those feelings, of course. Cazador's abuse is designed to actively kill off empathy in his spawn, both towards each other and towards victims. The last time Astarion prioritized someone over his own skin he got locked in a tomb for a year. We can see glimpses of it with the other spawn too, how his siblings are (apparently uncompelled at first) willing to drag Astarion back to their master for their freedom, how Petras' first dream of freedom is getting to drain another person dry. Astarion certainly doesn't seem to feel any real sense of solidarity with them, likely because Cazador understands that them building a community is a threat to his authority the way it was to his own master.

I'd also argue its Astarion projecting his own self-loathing outwards. So much of his quest is about his desperate attempt to escape from who he was. He's been given a chance to slip free of the limitations of being a spawn. He clings to that because of course he would. He also instinctively begins to run over everything in his path, because if there's anything he has learned over the past 200 years its that good things can always be taken away unless you make sure to remove any and all possible threats to that scrap of well-being. He's disdainful of people in need of help because they represent who he fears to go back to being! He calls his siblings "poor fools" while refusing to confront the fact that had it not been for the tadpole he would be in exactly their position, forced to cling to the hope that Cazador is telling the truth for once because escape isn't an option either way. He becomes irritated when Tav slows down to help the unfortunate because they represent roadblocks on his own path to safety.

There's an idea in mental health stolen from airplane safety: that you shouldn't help anyone else until your own mask is secure. What they don't tell you, speaking from personal experience at least, is that PTSD, especially for long term trauma, has a way of making you feel like your own mask will never be secure. And while that's scary, and it sucks, and there should be the utmost patience for it: no one is going to realize that mask is secure for you. Eventually you are going to have to accept the fact that you are breathing just fine. Eventually you are also going to have to accept that people asking something of you isn't them endangering you, even if it can sometimes (often) feel like it. It doesn't make you obligated to help them. But it does mean you have to stop reacting to them like a threat, because not 5 minutes ago that was you.

I think the idea that he's only mad because he's jealous is a gratifying fantasy. He didnt feel safe before, but now through your PC and the power of love he'll feel warm and cozy enough to forgive you for not being there to begin with. But I also think Astarion cannot live in a reality where he's never pushed back on. His instinctive self-protective movements are a coping mechanism, yes, but coping mechanisms developed under survival conditions can also be a way of keeping you frozen in your trauma. Outside of the environment they were necessary for, they can even hinder you from growing in the ways you need to grow to move past what happened to you. Sometimes, you need to stop a baby tiefling from getting crazy murdered by a snake because it turns out. That can happen to anybody not just people who are weak and stupid and deserve to die anyways not like me I'm normal-

[funniestbitchinfaerun]

Bg3 companions and what vintage fashion era I think they belong in based on vibes only

this post brought to you by my degree in costume design

Gale: with that hair he can only be from the 80s. Remember that Miami Vice guy with the white suits and pastel shirts? Gale would think he looked so cool in that fit but would be an obvious nerd anyway.

Shadowheart: 90s-early 2000s goth. she would wear those spaghetti-strap velvet dresses and chunky black platform boots. she was Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way before Ebony was.

Lae'zel: 1940s. Partly because of the militaristic nature of githyanki culture and partially because i think she would look so gorgeous in one of those Women's Army Corps uniforms with the little hats. Give Bae'zel a little hat.

Astarion: 1930s but specifically in the way of those British guys from Noel Coward plays who hang out in velvet smoking jackets all day.

Wyll: 1920s. I'm talking three-piece suits, Gatsby style. Long cigarette holder. Wingtip shoes. Doing the Lindy Hop all night. I'm swooning just thinking about it.

Karlach: Gives me serious late-70s punk energy. She needs a beat-up leather jacket with Ramones and Blondie pins and the ripped-est jeans ever. Hair can stay exactly the same.

Halsin: This one's easy. Late 60s hippie. Homemade tie-dye, flower crowns, Birkenstock sandals. Possibly one of those suede fringed jackets.

Minthara: Also 1930s in that slinky Joan Crawford femme fatale way. She'd rock those bias-cut evening dresses and fur coats. Don't worry about how she got those diamonds during the Great Depression.

Jaheira: 80s mom vibes. Her high-waisted jeans and shoulder-padded blazers conceal her superspy badassery.

Minsc: 1950s greaser in the wholesomest way imaginable. Don't fight me on this. Boo has a tiny leather jacket of his own.

[justporo]

Rooted within each other

The two of you shared tender glances, loving touches and slight laughs as you imagined what it could be like: to truly be with each other. All the while though neither of you dared to speak what was on both of your minds.

This pleasant back and forth went on for seemingly an eternity until both of your bodies were covered in a sheen of sweat, hair dripping and messily falling into your faces, skin glowing feverhot.

MASTERLIST | AO3 | PART 3

Author's Note: It's time for dessert and thereby the hopefully sweet and overly emotional conclusion to this smut fic. Partly inspired by this post here by @brain-rot-central and another by @davenswitcher

Gif by @cheekylittlepupp (pls follow them!)

Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav (You) Warnings: explicit sexual content, porn with feelings, vaginal sex, creampie, slight religious imagery, aftercare, Astarion speaking Elvish, lol Wordcount: 3,1k

Astarion’s words gently waved the oncoming dreams and rest away. You slowly blinked your eyes open laying on his chest and cuddled up even closer to him. There was no way you could tell when you had last felt this at peace.

“What?” you asked sheepishly as you had to fight to keep your eyes open. Post-orgasm haze and the way Astarion’s hand on your back had slowly caressed you close to slumber were making it difficult for you to grasp onto his meaning.

“Let me take care of you, darling,” Astarion muttered again. The words tumbled out of his mouth a little too quick - as if they had to be pushed out before they got lost elsewhere.

“Please,” he added. Which made you frown even more than the way he had spoken before.

Your arms still felt wobbly from the sex before but you pushed up with a bit of struggle to be able to look into the vampire’s eyes.

His hand on your back dropped slightly but stayed there a bit helplessly as you observed Astarion with some concern on your face. Red eyes were already wide and surprisingly vulnerable but while you just looked at him for several heartbeats they began flitting around nervously, tongue darting out to wet his lips and he cleared his throat as if the words had left an unpleasant, dry feeling behind.

Suddenly the fact that you were both completely naked and had just been deeply entwined felt like nothing anymore. In an instance Astarion second-guessed everything. Despite the physical closeness he suddenly feared you being far away. Just like it had been with so many others. Nothing but a transaction at best.

Astarion almost wished he could take back his words as you kept staring at him without saying anything. He’d been pushing his luck already he felt like. You had already been so generous with him.

That was exactly it though: he felt like he owed you. But not in the way he thought before, in that way he had dealt with way too often over the past couple of centuries. He had meant his words: he wanted to take care of you in turn after you had given him so much: blood, safety - and now so much tender and honest affection, he could feel his undead heart in his chest clench just looking at you. He hadn’t felt like this in centuries. Maybe he had never quite felt like this before.

And he just wanted to give you something in return. Not with an ulterior motive behind it. Solely because he wanted to see you smile at him. So you would laugh at one of his stupid jokes again, so you would whisper his name again when you came shivering in his arms and there was nothing and no one else on your mind.

Solely because Astarion  found - he liked you; in lack of better words (or lack of courage to use them, yet).

But the longer the silence drew out between you, insecurity took the better of him. He should have just kept quiet and enjoyed the serene silence with you in his arms.

Astarion was just about to wave off his request when you finally spoke.

“You know, Astarion,” you began and the vampire’s chest clenched, anxious for your next words “you don’t owe me anything in return.”

You cocked your head to one side, strands of your hair falling over your shoulder. Your fingers wandered lightly over Astarion’s chest.

He was immediately lost for words.

Out of everything that was not the reaction he would have anticipated. Immediately this felt wrong. There always was a price to be paid, a debt to be claimed some time - right?

You saw his sceptic thoughts on his face almost as clearly as if he had spoken them aloud. The time, and especially the nights spent together, when Astarion had sometimes allowed you to take a peek behind his tightly worn armour, had made you good at reading him.

And you knew that he wouldn’t deal well with a rejection - even if it was entirely out of pure motives. Not right now. So you opted for something that you thought might be even better - for both of you.

“How about-,” you started and placed your hand on Astarion’s chest firmly - right over where his heart must be. He immediately covered it with his own as he cautiously waited for your reply.

The way his crimson gaze glinted despite there being barely any light made you almost forget what you were trying to say. Three little words once more almost pushed themselves to the front, almost tumbling from your mouth.

Whatever this was that had seemingly manifested between the two of you this night, you hoped it wasn’t only a temporary spell. You hoped it would stay. Because the way Astarion stared up at you, eyes so open and his thumb tenderly brushing over your hand on his chest gave you a whole new desire to overcome all of these hardships that had been thrown your way. For him. And for you. Maybe even together.

“How about we take care of each other? Make it equal,” you proposed and immediately bit your lip after the words had left your tongue.

Astarion’s eyebrows lifted as your words surprised him once more. But a genuine, happy smile spread over his face rather quickly.

“I think I would like that, my dear,” Astarion replied and you felt how his remaining hand on your back slid over it as he nudged you to lean down to him.

He didn’t want to waste another precious moment with words if his lips could be otherwise occupied with kissing you. You leaned into him with a huge grin at how eager the rogue had suddenly become.

But when your open mouth met his and he kissed you like a starving man while your arms wrapped around his neck you quickly got lost in the moment. Never had he kissed you like this: his tongue slipped into your mouth, toyed with yours while his head turned to get more of this, of you. His free hand lifted to the nape of your neck, gently pulling you in closer while he dragged you right on top of him.

You sighed into his mouth as your body squished against his, your heart beginning to beat faster again as your naked body slid along his. Your softer curves fit perfectly with the harder lines of his body as you melted together - made for each other.

Astarion’s kiss was so greedy and hungry and giving and offering at the same time. Your hands wandered to his face, cupping it, thumbs wandering over his cheekbones, the line of his jaw, trying to really feel him. So you would remember this forever.

He moaned so softly it was barely perceptible when your fingers touched his sensitive elven ears. Your hands dug into his lush, white curls, fingertips dragging along Astarion’s scalp.

Simultaneously, the urge to feel you, everywhere and all around him became almost unbearable for Astarion.

Desire for each other grew quickly within you, generously laced with feelings reaching much deeper. Depths the two of you had barely scratched the surface off.

With roguish quickness Astarion grabbed you and flipped you over, immediately climbing on top of you, leaning on his elbows above you, holding himself there for a moment to take in the sight of you.

You gasped at the sudden change of position. Without hesitation you moved your hand to his face again as you drank him in much the same: a few curls were falling into his face in some disarray, lips parted and swollen from kissing, red eyes molten.

You were awestruck.

And much the same was true for Astarion. The way you stared up at him, one arm stretched out to him lovingly, your eyes so wide and yearning and full with nothing but love and wonder and that delightful full body flush turning your cheeks the most pleasant shade of pink.

He almost made confessions of love right then and there as he kept gazing upon you and knew he was a changed man. But before he felt he said something foolish that might ruin it all he busied his mouth again by pressing it to your neck.

The vampire held your head up much more tenderly than in the beginning of the night. Again feeling your quickening pulse under his lips and his fangs only an inch away from where they had been buried in your neck not so long ago, right when this night and everything had started.

He breathed in your intoxicating scent and kept kissing and caressing your delicate skin, leaving a wet, sloppy trail where he pressed his lips and tongue to you. Occasionally he suckled at your skin, leaving slight marks.

He just wanted to make you his, if only temporarily so.

You felt your own lust rear its head again inside of you as Astarion kept mouthing down your throat and his hands were once more roaming your body: cupping your breasts, redrawing the lines of your ribs, squeezing your butt as you wrapped your legs around his slender hips and arched towards his body.

Gasps from each of you filled the night air but neither of you spoke as your hands explored his body as well. Your hands wandered over his shoulders, his arms, felt the muscles tense up under your touch.

You didn’t even stop at the gruesome ridges on his back. With flat hands you stroked over them at an even pace while Astarion slightly shivered under your touch but didn’t withdraw. He just kept seeking the comfort in your touch and your body as you held him in your embrace.

Neither of you had any intention of stopping anytime soon as you kept exploring each other’s bodies unlike you had done before. You simply wanted to truly see and feel each other - not a layer between you.

In between Astarion lifted his head up again, locked eyes up with you while your touch wandered over his tortured back. You didn’t stop. He didn’t want you to you realised as you locked eyes with him.

You saw him, accepted him with everything that came along with him.

And Astarion felt seen, truly, maybe for the first time in his life.

What followed then was messy and sloppy as your limbs tangled even more, hands, mouths and eyes solely focused on each other. It wasn't practised or neat, not an act. It was raw and tender and loving and passionate. And more than anything: it was honest and real.

You dragged your bodies along each other as you felt your core throbbing with lust and Astarion’s hardened length kept rubbing against your heated skin.

The two of you kept writhing against each other, desire rising agonisingly slow as you took your time. The flames had been high all night but now they lazily rose higher until the embers were glowing white and hot beneath.

For all you cared, this could well go on forever. You wouldn't have minded staying in this limbo of lust and love - maybe forever.

Lazily you went through all sorts of different caresses and new positions to press yourself against each other: you on top, dragging your core along his cock, Astarion diving between your legs to pleasure you with his mouth until you almost already fell for him again, kneeling in front of each other as your hands each stroked each other's most sensitive parts, rolling around in the small space of Astarion's tent until you had gotten lost even in the tiny bit of room you had there.

You drew out this small piece of heaven for each other for as long as you could while keeping the other just right off that edge so you could let yourself fall down together when you chose to do so later on.

The two of you shared tender glances, loving touches and slight laughs as you imagined what it could be like: to truly be with each other. All the while though neither of you dared to speak what was on both of your minds.

This pleasant back and forth went on for seemingly an eternity until both of your bodies were covered in a sheen of sweat, hair dripping and messily falling into your faces, skin glowing feverhot.

You were sitting on his lap, Astarion kneeling on his bedroll, both arms wrapped around you to hold you close to him. His hard and weeping cock was pressed pleasantly between your hot bodies as you were kissing again. Your time much better spent with your mouth on each other but with words you couldn’t be sure you might regret come the next morning. Your arms were holding onto his face as you kissed him messily, rocking back and forth, heads leaning and gasps and moans passed between each other. 

Astarion’s hands were grabbing onto your thighs like a drowning man would a lifeline - and that was pretty much what he felt like with you. He’d been drowning, already dead inside. But then you came along, offering him another shot at something he’d long thought forgotten.

Then you broke the kiss, cradling his face in your hands as he looked upon you as if you were a deity finally descended from the heavens to answer all of his prayers.

His white curls were falling into his face, dripping with sweat as he breathed heavily, eyes so full of yearning it made your chest clench. This was probably the most vulnerable you had ever seen him. And you wished to cradle his heart just as gently as you did his face.

“Do you even have an idea,” Astarion whispered as he gazed upon you with wonder in his eyes and began to lift you by your thighs until your entrance was lined up with the head of his cock “how much I want you?”

You could merely hold onto him and feel your pulse race even faster as you anticipated being one with him once more.

With his words he slowly but firmly pulled you down on him. He immediately bottomed out, leaving you only to let your head fall back and groan his name as you got to experience the pleasure of Astarion filling you for the second time this night.

The vampire began to engage a gentle rhythm, more rocking than thrusting for now. But heat was quickly rising even higher now that you finally felt him inside of you again, your walls already clenching around him in desperation to feel, to have more. The way you wrapped your arms around him was just as desperate: trying to be as close and joint with him as possible.

“I have an inkling,” you breathed and heard Astarion softly chuckle in response, feeling the soft vibration echo through your wrapped up bodies.

You kept moving with a tenderness that was at odds with how you had indulged each other before. But it seemed this night was made out of differences and shifting them.

Astarion began to fuck you gently. You rocked your hips in rhythm with his slow but forceful movements, each of you savouring every moment.

It became rougher and faster and harder as you went - the air filled with nothing but gasps and moans. No more room or breath for sweet nothings or words of affection that merely danced around the real thing.

Your breaths become rugged as you felt yourself rocked to the core, orgasm fast approaching as Astarion kept thrusting into you - the sounds he made just as desperate as yours. Different feelings within you became nearly overwhelming as you skyrocketed towards the end of this road.

Your head fell back with a mewl as you felt you were only moments away from completely unravelling for the vampire. And you already knew your only wish was  to keep doing this again and again and again - until maybe someday you would have nothing left to give, but the vampire finally would feel loved.

As your head lolled back Astarion wrapped his arms even closer around you as he kept speeding up the pace and he was making you come undone. He felt lost in you - but pleasantly. The way his chest swelled as he gazed upon you, saw drops of sweat run down your already glistening, exposed throat and he heard his name on your lips like the sweetest promise.

In a final effort he bowed you on his lap while his cock plunged in and out of you and you felt the edges of your existence fray.

“Come for me, darling,” Astarion murmured with a voice barely above a whisper, hands on your spine and neck, bowing you to him further as he willed you over the edge. His mouth licked and suckled on the space in between your breasts, feeling your fluttering heartbeat and he sensed and heard you comply to his request - positively falling for him but only to be caught by him.

Astarion felt you clench down around him, his own demise only a blink or two away. But he needed to watch you, see the utter bliss on your face as you fell without hesitating.

And when he knew you were completely lost in the magic of moment he finally couldn’t resist anymore. As he fell himself, dick inside of you twitching and spilling himself inside of you, Astarion heaved a breath against your trembling chest, words barely distinguishable as he mumbled them: whispering them in hopes you wouldn’t hear and understand but with the desperate wish to put them out there to give them some reality.

“Ai Armiel Telere Maenen Hir!*” Elvish words dancing over your glistening skin, Astarion’s breath between your breasts making you shiver without you knowing why.

The words kept ringing in his own ears as he held your trembling form afterwards. More sweet words, touches and glances were exchanged as you snuggled up with each other in the aftermath. Meanwhile each of your yearning grew almost unbearable.

And as you lay there in his arms Astarion made a realisation and a decision: he couldn’t go on like this anymore. Either his earlier words became real and so the thing that had formed between the two of you - or he would perish.

Tomorrow, he vowed to himself, tomorrow he would tell you.

For now he was too lost in how your head was resting on his chest, low light and shadows painting your face lovingly - and Astarion couldn’t imagine a more beautiful sight to behold for the rest of his immortal life.

(*You hold my heart forever)

~~~

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[daily-sloop-john-b]

Tim has called Gale "a rabid golden retriever". He's a character who's prone to limerence, and is more likely to voice his qualms than act upon them (see: him being able to be convinced to stay after the druid grove, v. Karlach and Wyll*). Mechanically, he's the easiest to get an "Exceptional" approval from (I got this before we hit the goblin camp; I think Karlach was still on Medium and Astarion on Neutral).

(* Gale staying may admittedly be a character facet borne from the mechanical practicality that without Gale, you'd be running either 2 or 3 (if you recruit Minthara) other party members (I doubt Halsin or Jaheira would be recruitable for an evil run, and Minsc isn't until Act 3). Someone had to stick around. Gale is also one of the longer-developed characters, while Karlach and Wyll were shorter development times -- a writer has half as much dialogue to write if the characters refuse to participate in half the possible adventure.)

Gale's answer to his partner telling him "no" (repeatedly! as a goddess!) isn't to respect her boundaries, but to spend months researching and digging up a piece of her past that he knows killed her. Then getting a slice of evil/anti-magic embedded in him Iron Man-style. (It's likely this recklessness that reminded the first tagger of a red-bull-fueled engineer.)

By the time we meet him, he's tempered these responses a bit, but compare breaking up with Gale vs. breaking up with Astarion (I'm using Astarion b/c he's the only other character I've broken up with; I love both in different ways): Gale mopes, is bitter about it (An act later, and I haven't gotten gale's colder "yes?" or "what is it?" dialogue to change back to the more jovial "how may I help you"), and tells you to go away. Astarion asks if it's his fault and Approves of being friends now.

This isn't even mentioning the Crown of Karsus.

BG3 is a game of possibilities; your Gale might be kind and romantic, but Gale also has the option to become the God of Ambition; I've never heard of a god of such a domain being particularly good, or nice.

I just saw someone in the tags of a post imply that Gale isn't romantic, sweet, or ethical.

Hello, are we playing the same game?

I think they meant well because the original post was a Gale positive post. About how Gale is strong, competent, and poweful, not weak or pathetic. But we are not taking positive character traits from another character and projecting them on to Gale.

Gale IS insanely romantic. Gale can be salty, but he is also sweet. Gale might be willing to turn the other cheek on occasion, but he is moral and ethical.

They also implied in their tags that Gale would have no moral qualms with morally and ethically dubious things, such as bombs and dubcon, which is also untrue. Gale is not evil. His alignment has now been confirmed as Neutral Good via the Idle Champions.

Yes, you can manipulate him to stay with you in an evil run, but the keyword is manipulate.

I don't have the time to explore this further at the moment, and I'm not going to call the user out. But bad character takes annoy me.