#wyll doesn't get to be in the tags

[mandokero-eboy]

Baldur's Gate 3

Two whole hours of gameplay and I made no progress on the main story except trying to romance everyone. That was great.

Lae'Zel was like: YES, YOU SMELL OF BATTLE, ME HORNY, DO NOT FUCKING SHOWER YOU MUSKY MINX

Karlach was like: Hey uuuh... so... i know... i'm like... a 6 foot tall muscle baddie but... can i like... can we... uh And I was like "YOU. ME. BED. NOW."

Astarion was like: God this party sucks, wanna have a little fun? And I was like "What u mean?" And he was like "SEX. IDIOT. DO YOU. WANT. TO FUCK?"

Shadowheart was like: "Damn remember those times we fucked before? That was nice, we should do that again, btw the fact everyone else here is trying to fuck you is A-Okay with me"

Halsin was like: "IF I TOUCH A SINGLE DROP OF ALCOHOL YOUR PANTS AND MY PANTS WILL BE OFF. WE SHALL FUCK LIKE ANIMALS AT YOUR EARLIEST CONVENIENCE... Not tonight though." (If you know you know)

Gale would not stop talking to me about books, and his mutant cat, and his tragic past, and when I brought up the possibility of boning him he was like "awww you don't mean that" and said some wizard shit about pondering his orb and I wanted to jump his bones right there, stupid sexy nerd.

And I legit forgot Wyll existed and he mostly brooded about being a devil now (get over it you fucking wimp).

This was all in a single night. Which ended with having sex with Astarion, the other option was Karlach but she can't touch me yet because plot, so we went with Astarion. And he TOPPED ME. I LET THIS BROODING LITTLE TWINKIE LOOKING FUCK TOP ME (this apparently depends on your character's body type).

This right here was the single toughest decision of my entire life.

Then there were a lot of other cutscenes about Astarion brooding about Vampire stuff. Sasuke talkin ass. Edward from twilight lookin ass. I love him, I can't believe I let this man top me.

Also that unrestricted polyamory mod is really coming through for me.

[kingthunder]

I saw a few of those "bg3 characters driving a car" headcanons and decided to do one myself for fun.

Lae'zel: She learned how to drive on the opposite side of the road from everyone else and her instincts are all wrong for her current location, but back home she's an excellent driver with a spotless driving record. She actually follows the service schedule in the car manual. She gets incensed at people who don't maintain their vehicle properly or who disobey road rules. Her car is immaculately clean. She would love to speed a motorcycle down one of those desert highways with no speed limit, but she's never gotten the opportunity and knows it's too reckless besides. But she wants to.

Karlach: She's had a motorcycle for ages and is a skilled if aggressive driver. However, she only recently learned how to drive a car. She is very enthusiastic about it and always volunteers to drive even though she's not very good yet. She's one of those people that do driving "pranks" like swerving back and forth to make people shriek/laugh, or doing "3, 2, 1 BLASTOFF" and gunning it. Could easily be provoked into an impromptu street race. Drives way too far on empty or with the check engine light on.

Shadowheart: Drives stick so that no one else can drive her car. It's a beat up old station wagon with a busted tail light and looks like shit on the outside, but inside she turned it into a goth mobile with like black velvet seat covers and stuff. She named the car but she won't tell you what. She has an air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror that smells like night orchids. She's a perfectly good boring driver with nothing to note about it UNTIL one day a cop tries to pull her over for her busted tail light and she hits the gas and pulls out all these street racing moves that you had no idea she was capable of and shakes the cop. She'll let you pick the music but if she doesn't like it her silent disapproval is so withering that you voluntarily change it to something she does like.

Astarion: Never got a driver's license and isn't about to get one now. Passenger princess who likes to control the radio but his taste in music sucks. He makes funny mean comments about other drivers and pedestrians. He'll complain if you ask him to fill the gas tank but he'll do it; you're paying for it, though. Actually pretty fun to go on a road trip with because he doesn't care about stuff like "making good time" and he's up for stopping anywhere that looks like it might be entertaining.

Gale: Never got a driver's license because he was always too busy with his studies to care and his mom drove him around and/or did all his errands for him anyway. He's real good at maps though and likes to be helpful by being the navigator. He's the smartest man in the world but he's completely stymied by a gas pump; you're better off pumping the gas yourself and sending him into the gas station for snacks. He always manages to conjure a full meal out of convenience food, somehow, and he's really good at feeding you while you drive.

Wyll: He saved up and bought his own fixer-upper car after getting kicked out of the house as a teenager. Good driver in general. People always think he would make a good designated driver, but actually he likes drinking socially and will politely decline requests to be the DD unless there's no one else available. Sometimes when he's having a bad day he blasts music really loud and finds a deserted area to just fuckin tear ass down as fast as he can go (he'll only do this alone and doesn't tell anyone about it). Never lets you pay for gas even if you offer. Will pick up hitchhikers.

Halsin: Has been driving the same car since 1973. Drives that specific car really well. If you gave him a modern car he would have no idea what anything on the dashboard does. Honestly, he prefers to walk or bike anyway.

Jaheira: Has a fuck-off huge SUV full of empty cans and wrappers from her kids. Absolute maniac of a driver who tailgates and speeds with no regard for road signs or lane markings. She is going to GET where she is GOING and gods help you if you get in the way.

Minsc: Failed the driving test three times and just gets rides from Jaheira. This does not bother him in the slightest. He tells you that Boo can drive vehicles you've never even heard of.

Minthara: Has run someone over on purpose.

[antiqua-lugar]

aside from everything else about durgewyll I am loving how it highlights wyll and gortash as narrative foils. both their upbringings lead them to interact with demoniac entities, both can only become archdukes and join baldurian high society through uldred, both are swaying the dark urge from simply following bhaal (and arguably the dark urge sways them from simply pursuing an ideal and the dark urge can recognise both as their equal)

and by playing your card right in act 3 wyll just...gets everything gortash was trying to get? wyll really is a hero saving baldur's gate from the legion of the absolute. wyll influences gortash's favourite assassin into becoming someone they can defeat the netehrbrain together. they can even become archdukes together! ...or they can turn it down and then they can go to he hells to sneak around and have adventures (like gortash and durge used to) and save karlach's life (the same life that is at risk because gortash mindlessly threw it away).

like. it's a lot, wyll and durge can even murder raphael.

[iamapoopmuffin]

What if we adopted Arabella and/or Yenna together? Haha just kidding...unless?

[who-is-riley]

bald of gate sketches

[darkjusticiar]

like give this man more defined wrinkles and this is my vision. now to find earrings for wyll

[optiwashere]

What does Ashreera and Shadowheart like about each other respectively? Fluff qn :)

Heya anon! I really enjoyed writing the answer to this one 💜

Because I'm me, this got kinda long-winded. All of this is stuff that's in the fics. The fluffy fics show the domestic side of things, but It Is the Wound She Gave Me and Like I Am Safe Again are the linchpins to their relationship. The Gauntlet/Nightsong fic that I'm chipping away at will be equally as important!

But I like typing about my babies soooooooo!

Shadowheart finds Asheera's bad jokes and obvious flirting endearing. Asheera's also pretty forward without disrespecting her boundaries, and Shadowheart loves that. In-game Asheera challenges her without trodding on firm "no" areas, and that's a huge show of respect. Shadowheart's low level of self-esteem gets big validation from someone like Asheera.

Even when Asheera is being a Paladin-ass Paladin™ she is always leaving room in their relationship for Shadowheart to have agency over what to share, who to be, and things like the events in the Gauntlet/Shadowfell. That's not something you get as a Sharran, and from someone that's dedicated to redeeming monsters and creating change in the world... I mean, the themes are right there!

Asheera finds Shadowheart's love of animals very telling of the kind of person she is. Asheera thinks someone who is as willing to say, "I'd rather not talk about this" as Shadowheart has a firm command of what she wants. Even if she needs nudges to know it's OK to express her desires and needs as well as what she doesn't want. The slim difference is actually huge.

Even when Shadowheart is potentially on the road to becoming a Dark Justiciar, and therefore someone that Asheera must kill, she is taking these things for herself that she deserves. Asheera might hate the choice that Shadowheart could make, but it's Shadowheart's choice. Shadowheart spares Aylin for whatever her reasons are (crisis of faith + wanting to know the memories and past that Aylin can give her) but Asheera sees it as someone that's finally embracing the fact that she is a person and she deserves to choose. When Shadowheart turns to Asheera and asks, "what should I do?" Asheera says nothing. She just nods. Shadowheart chooses for herself from that point onward.

As for in a love sense and not just a general "companionship" sense?

Shadowheart loves that Asheera isn't complicated in her love. There's nothing for her to hide with Asheera. She's tired of darkness. Asheera embraces her faults and all the things she's done as a Sharran without any hate in her heart. Though Asheera is a paladin of Redemption, she also doesn't treat Shadowheart as a project to fix. Shadowheart is just Shadowheart, and that makes it easy for her to love Asheera. She likes that no matter how she's feeling, no matter the kind of day she's had, Asheera is there for her. In anger, in joy, and in darkness.

Asheera loves Shadowheart's strength and perseverance, and the fact that she can pick herself up after something that would destroy most people. That she's extremely capable, but also that she's strong enough to share her moments of vulnerability or uncertainty. That she cares so much more than she lets on. That Shadowheart knows she can trust Asheera with anything, and that after a certain point she does.

Love is something that changes shape, especially in long-term romantic relationships. Sometimes the changes are good, though.

[klauswalz]

After playing 30 hours of Baldur's Gate 3, I think Wyll really deserves better. He doesn't have enough lines or even a lot of scenes compared to the other companions. His personal quest can be done without him.

[lendeah]

Bubbles and battle wounds

Prompt: Astarion comforts you after a bad day featuring a bathtub.

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader

Words: 1.3k

Tags: fluff, hurt/comfort.

The day had been brutal, filled with never-ending battles against a seemingly endless enemies. Karlach, Wyll, Gale and yourself had fought tirelessly, your bodies pushed to the brink of exhaustion and beyond. But even during such chaos, there was one failure that weighed heavily on your mind - the gnomes at the factory who died despite your best efforts. The guilt gnawed at you relentlessly as you stumbled back to the Elfsong Tabern, your body battered and bruised. You didn't even have the strength or will to say goodbye to the rest of your companions before heading to Astarion's bed. The elf lies stretched out on the bed, with his eyes glued to a book. Despite this, you know that he is still aware of your presence as he raises a brow.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here? Looks like someone's had quite the day," he says with a sly grin. "Do tell me all about it. Who did you fight? Did you put up a good fight?"

He slowly sits up on the bed, his gaze traveling up and down your body before finally resting on your face. His expression shifts from curiosity to concern as he takes in your appearance. Your legs tremble uncontrollably, a clear indication that something is seriously wrong.

“I-I need a bath,” you say, on the verge of tears.

He gets up from his bed and walks over to you, placing a hand on your arm to steady you with preoccupation etched on his face. "Of course, my dear. Let me help you," he says, his voice soothing and comforting.

You quietly make your way to the bathroom, and you feel like in a daze. Astarion's arm is securely wrapped around your waist as he supports your trembling body. Every step feels like a struggle, so you are grateful for his assistance. The room is small but cozy, with a large tub taking up most of the space. A faint smell of lavender fills the air, calming your nerves slightly.

Without a word, Astarion begins to run a bath for you, carefully adjusting the temperature to your liking. He then gestures for you to sit on the edge of the tub as he helps you out of your armor and clothes. He seems to be searching for any wounds on your body, but doesn't seem to find anything too serious. You feel vulnerable and exposed under his gaze, but also comforted by his familiar presence.

Once you are fully bare, you get into the bathtub, hugging your knees to your chest and sobbing slightly. He also undresses and gets in the tub behind you, having you between his legs. Your mind is filled with images of the battle you just fought, and the guilt and pain are overwhelming.

After a few seconds, you feel his hands on your back, gently massaging and washing away the dirt and grime from your skin. His touch is tender and soothing, making the tension in your body slowly melt away. You lean into his touch, grateful for his presence.

"Do you want to talk about it, my love?" he finally asks in a gentle voice, breaking the silence.

You shake your head, tears now falling freely down your face. "I couldn't save them," you say between sobs. "They trusted me and I couldn't save them."

He leans forward and wraps his arms around you from behind, pulling your body close to his chest. You feel his familiar cold and soft skin, slowly calming your racing heart. "It's not your fault," he whispers in your ear. "You did everything you could."

But you can't help but feel responsible. You had promised to protect them, and yet they fell in battle while you survived. It feels like a betrayal of their trust in you. You sigh, laying your head on your knees again. He starts massaging your hair and scalp and you feel the tension start to leave your body, as the water around you both turns brown with blood and grime.

"You don't always have to be strong for others," he whispers softly. "It's okay to let yourself grieve."

You nod slowly, letting out a shaky breath. The sobs come out in full force now, racking your body with each wave of pain and sadness. Astarion holds onto you tighter, whispering words of comfort as he lets you cry it out. Eventually, your tears run dry and you lay there spent and exhausted.

As Astarion continues massaging your scalp, he notices the water turning brown with grime and blood. He frowns slightly.

"Let me take care of this," he says softly before pouring some fresh water into the bathtub to replace the dirty water.

You watch him silently as he steps back in, and resumes carefully washing your hair, his touch gentle and soothing. The newly warm water and the smell of soap lull you into a state of relaxation, and you close your eyes.

"You have beautiful hair," he comments, running his fingers through the strands.

You open your eyes and turn to look at him, surprised by his words. "Thank you," you say softly.

When he is finished, he pulls you back toward his chest, embracing you. He nuzzles his nose against your cheek affectionately before pulling back slightly to look into your eyes. "Even with bruises and blood, you manage to be the most captivating sight I've ever beheld," he says sincerely.

Turning around in his embrace, your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, pulling him closer as you hold on tightly, hugging him in response. Astarion's hands move from your hair to your back, caressing your skin gently. He leans in and presses a soft kiss against your shoulder, his lips lingering for a moment. "You truly are a wonder, my dear," he whispers, his voice filled with sincerity. "Even amid chaos and despair, your spirit remains unyielding. It's no wonder I am utterly infatuated with you."

His words wash over you like a balm, soothing the ache in your heart. With Astarion by your side, the weight of the world feels just a little lighter. Leaning against Astarion's chest, you let out a contented sigh. "Thank you," you whisper softly. "For being here."

His arms tighten around you, pulling you impossibly closer. "You don't have to carry it all alone," he murmurs against your ear. "Lean on me when you need to. I'll always be here to catch you."

A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips. You reach up and brush a strand of hair away from his face, your fingers lingering against his cheek. "You should lean into me too," you whisper, feeling a sense of hope blossoming within you.

He smiles softly before leaning closer and pressing his lips to yours. The kiss is gentle yet filled with unspoken emotions. You feel yourself melting into him, reveling in the warmth and safety he provides. Astarion brushes his fingers against your cheek before pulling away. "Let's get out of this grimy water," he says with a smirk, offering you a hand to help you stand up.

Astarion helps you out of the bathtub and wraps a soft towel around you before grabbing one for himself. You both dry off quickly and he leads you to the bed, where he hands you one of his clean shirts.

"Put this on," he says, handing it to you. "We can't have my dear hero looking like a ragamuffin."

You take the shirt from him with a smile, and slip it over your head, reveling in his lingering smell on the piece. Astarion watches you with a smile, clearly pleased with how you look in his clothes.

"Mmm, you're finally looking presentable," he purrs, raking his fingers through your damp hair. "Now, let's get some rest. We have a full day of scheming ahead of us."

You nod in agreement and climb onto the bed, snuggling into the soft blankets. Astarion joins you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close to him, as his fingers gently trace soothing circles on your back. As you drift off to sleep, you can't help but feel grateful for having Astarion by your side. Despite all the chaos and danger surrounding you both, he brings a sense of peace and comfort that you never knew was possible.

[justporo]

Headcanons for the companions reuiniting after a few months

Ok, but imagine Astarion and Tav invite their friends over for a reunion during winter time!

Obviously it's Tav's idea and Astarion isn't into it at first but he thinks it's kinda cute how into it Tav is

Gale is enlisted as sous-chef, he doesn't have a choice

The wizard also spices up things decor wise with some magic, Shadowheart also helps make look everything incredible

Tav and Gale make all the dishes, heaps of them, loads - no one will go home without having gained at least three pounds of weight; Astarion picks out wine and drinks

And when everyone arrives it's just a whoooole big cheerful mess: hugs, smooches, screaming, excited hopping up and down (and obligatory snarls and hisses from some because it's just a lot of love going around)

The house is full of laughter and talk the whole night

Karlach hangs out under mistletoe for a suspicious amount of time to give little pecks to everyone excitedly

Halsin has brought individually whittled ducks for everyone - Lae'zel claims she hates hers but then she's seen carefully turning it around in her hands the whole night

Jaheira, Wyll and Astarion get into a fierce discussion of Baldurian politics over several bottles of wine - by the end they're in a screaming match (affectionately) and Jaheira ends it by dragging on pointy ears and horns using her mom voice on Wyll and Astarion

Shadowheart tells the others how she's overcome her former beliefs and how she made a new life for herself causing the whole party to fall silent for a moment, even some tears might be shed; "Have you all gotten soft in the last months? Ugh!" Shadowheart says and with that the spell is broken, although she still gets a lot of hugs and told how proud everyone is (she claims she hates it, but everyone sees the light blush and the telltale shining wet eyes)

Gale brought Tara and her and Scratch hang out in front of the fireplace, maybe even Boo

At one point Jaheira and Halsin join them in cat wildshape - then Boo has to watch himself while being playfully chased around by the cats and the tressym - Minsc meanwhile completely loses it while he chomps away on more food

Lae'zel shows off her knife skills by artfully seperating whatever meat dish is set in front of her from the bones

Later Halsin and everyone else who wants to join sneak out the backdoor to the small garden for a little smoking session - even Wyll joins and they all come back with some giddy chuckles

Maybe all of them play like charades at the end: Astarion is amazingly good at it (because let's face it he's so dramatic usually he's good at portraying things) - you and him are just a dreamteam, Karlach is just super excited, Lae'zel doesn't get it at first but then is overly competitive, Minsc doesn't fully understand what's going on but he's just vibing, Wyll overcomplicates everything while Shadowheart keeps rolling her eyes and sighing in annoyance, Halsin and Jaheira just keep watching while chatting and having more drinks, Gale screams the loudest with suggestions that are oddly specific and not even close to what's the solution

The little townhouse in Baldur's Gate is filled with love, light and laughter through the whole night - promises to repeat this have already been made

Tag list: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @azukiel @hereliesblackdragon

[bloodiedrogue]

PAINFUL VULNERABILITIES (5)

SUMMARY: When your past begins to blend into your present, you find yourself longing for Astarion's comfort.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 3,648

WARNINGS: ANGST, hurt/comfort, body horror elements, descriptions of torture involving a knife, panic attack, sort of made up Illithid lore??? (I promise there's comfort in the end, I'm sorry!)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Day 5 literally doesn't have a prompt because this idea got terribly out of hand so let's just ignore that and enjoy the angst, shall we?

(Also again, a lot of people's tags weren't working so next time if you haven't fixed it I will be taking you off the list because taglists are a bitch!)

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

-

The nightmares start a few days later.

At first, they’re subtle. Wisps of darkness cloud your thoughts, leaving no memory behind. Silently it lingers, creeping through your skull in waves that inevitably crash against the shore, ripping you awake —leaving you breathless each time you’re left gasping for air in your dishevelled bedroll. When it happens, it always makes you jolt up to look around, trying to find the cause of your plague. The reason why you’re suddenly so wary to lay your head each night.

When you reach the Underdark they only get worse. 

What were once forgotten memories become recurring torments. Endless onslaughts of clawed hands that scratch at your flesh, pulling back skin in massive chunks that pluck excitedly at your insides. 

Thanks to the powers of the Illithid you feel every movement. Every poke and prod slips through you like a knife, cutting you down piece by piece until you’re nothing but a shell. An empty carcass of bone that’ll inevitably be harvested for a purpose far greater than yourself.

Or so she says. As you lie there, writhing in pain, blinking to shield the teeth that bear witness to your torture, you hear her whisper cool and quiet, telling you of your death. Of your fated downfall, and then of your— 

You always wake up before she finishes.

Before you can hear her utter the words you’ve heard a thousand times. Feeling the burn of your lungs, you stretch your fingers across your chest in remembrance, breathing in and out as the skin beneath your digits runs hot and you’re forced to forget the experience all over again.

When you reach camp that night, sore from the seemingly never-ending mushroom forage, you find yourself dreading the prospect of such sleep. Even through the exhaustion, the last thing you want to do is rest your head lest she arrives tonight, so you fight the urge, settling in against the edge of the fire. 

“You look tired.” 

You turn to look at Gale with half-closed eyes, offering him the softest grin you can muster before turning toward the flames. They seem brighter than usual. A decorative flash of warm-toned hues that make you blink and rub your eyes, somehow feeling even more languid. 

“Mushroom hunting take it out of you?”

You hum, making no move to look his way as you pull your knees to your chest, curling in on yourself for comfort. 

As much as you’ve grown to like Gale’s company, all you want right now is silence. A moment of peace where you can just stare into the fire and let your eyes burn from something other than the lack of sleep. Especially after spending the day alongside Lae’zel and Shadowheart as some poorly trained mediator. Just the thought of opening your mouth to speak feels like a threat to your vocal cords. The prospect of speech too much to handle, even as Gale begins to fill you in on his and Wyll’s misadventures with a nearby myconid colony.

“They’re truly such interesting creatures. Did you know…”

His voice falls on deaf ears, earning you nothing but a confused sigh once he realizes you’re not listening. Mostly because it’s not normal for you to just blatantly ignore your peers. 

“Are you alright? Need anything? Perhaps a drink or a—“

You’re standing upright before he can even finish his sentence, brushing the ass of your leathers before walking away, paying no mind to the curious wizard as he looks around the camp, catching the eye of Wyll who merely shrugs. 

It’s not like you to leave. To ignore a friend mid-conversation but your voice is gone. Lost to the void of constant intercession and a brewing anxiety that sits in your chest. As you walk towards your tent you can feel it shifting. Starting at your gut, everything twists to form a sickly sting. A stabbing pain that throbs within your abdomen, threatening to grow as you part the fabric and crawl inside, plopping into bed face first.

Despite your better judgement, you let out a low groan you’re sure at least someone hears causing you to frown, knowing that you’re better than this. Better than neglecting your health because of some silly nightmares. Better than letting the fear of your past get the better of you. Better than brooding about it. 

Turning to lie on your back, you palm the sockets of your eyes in frustration, letting your mind wander. Allowing yourself to feel everything you’ve been suppressing over the last twelve or so hours.

Aside from exhaustion, it’s mostly Astarion that surfaces. His face in the darkness looking at you as you left camp that morning, barely awake enough to give him a nod. In an instant it was as if he was there and gone, looking at you with an expression you couldn’t quite place before shifting out of view alongside an overly excited Karlach. It was the kind of look that made you question its intentions. Its knitted brows and pursed lips rising and falling through your memories between the scuffles of your two companions. 

As you walked along the edges of the Underdark’s cliff sides, you couldn’t help but wonder what exactly it represented. What emotion it was trying to convey in such a small amount of time before it disappeared completely? 

As you lie there now, once again imagining its form you feel it’s something bordering on pity. A showcase of solidarity in your obviously failing quest for sleep. 

Astarion may not say much about your struggles —unlike him, you don’t complain about the endless problems that you face on the road— but you know he’s still aware of them. He’s too perceptive not to be. 

So why hasn’t he said anything? 

A heavy breath escapes. A shaky one damaged by speculation. Ruined by the assumption that it’s because he doesn’t care. That perhaps you aren’t worth the trouble of a little bit of worry despite previous actions.

You may have killed for him —had his back long before anyone else, but have such feelings ever been reciprocated? Has your worth been proven now that you’ve slain a man in his honour? And if so, how much worth do you truly hold? Is it substantial enough to ask you how you are? Big enough to look at you with any semblance of fondness? Or is it all just for show?

There’s a part of you that hopes it is. That the moments filled with kindness are nothing more than lies told to keep your attention. If he were lying, it wouldn’t necessarily make the way you feel right now any better but it’d mean that there’s an end. A barrier to stop you from getting in too deep. An excuse you could use to explain the naivety of thinking he may care.

Because it wavers —his care. Some days it’s obvious, sometimes it’s not. You can never guess when the care will appear, only that when it’s there and eventually dissipates you’ll be left alone again, wondering why he puts the extra effort in at all. Why he reels you in only to let you go, forcing you to question his intentions as you watch with careful eyes for those moments of reassurance. Moments that you can never prepare for. Ones that gnaw at your heart with pointed teeth wrapped beneath hungry lips, starving for the truth. 

You’re not too sure you’re ready to take that leap yet. To push him for the answers you know he’ll just avoid. He’s never been quick to trust and even when he does allow you in there’s still a blockage of sorts. An obvious resistance that sits between you, forcing you to settle regardless of the fear you hold inside your chest, wondering what would happen if you tried to push. 

You assume it’d ruin you. That, more than likely, pushing too hard would only create an even deeper wedge, making the truth that much more unattainable, leaving you with less than what you started with. 

Shooting upwards, you groan again and breathe, resting your face against your open palms in irritation. 

All you want to do is sleep, knowing the only reason you’re thinking so much is because you’re avoiding it. If you think you can’t drift which means the nightmares can’t come, leaving you with two bad endpoints you know you have to choose between.

It makes you want to scream just thinking about it but instead of giving in to such desires you merely settle back down, pulling the fabric of your bedroll up to your shoulders before closing your eyes. 

You’re going to get some sleep whether or not it kills you. Whether or not you have to endure the pain of a thousand deaths all at once before you’re inevitably woken up in a stupor of suffering.

It doesn’t take long for you to drift. One minute you’re lying there, counting your breaths like sheep and the next you’re out, filtering through a darkness that feels all too familiar. At first, it’s just there, coating your skin in nothingness. Lost to the void of slumber, you’re at peace for the first time in forever but as expected eventually the shadows unfold. Part to reveal a body of pale skin wrapped around viscous veins full of the blood of many. 

It beckons you almost immediately. The flutter of that icy voice saying your name over and over until you come to call, allowing yourself to move. Letting your feet guide you to her presence, you feel the waves and how they threaten to spill over as you kneel before her, feeling her grab your throat. 

Her fingers twitch and curl but never grip as she leans forward, offering you a grin. “You’ve been avoidant.”

You don’t speak. For a moment your lips part, feeling the presence of her thumb glide across the base of your throat but you don’t dare speak.

“You know it’s coming, my dear. You can’t avoid it.”

Your tongue moves to wet your lips while you blink, trying your best to let the visions of her angular face blur into the night that surrounds you, realizing she looks just as you remember her. All papery and washed out —a mere shell of herself now that you’ve gone missing. Her features drying out with each passing day you find yourself separate. 

“Come back to me. Let me protect you.”

You swallow hard and turn your head, feeling the nails of her fingers dig into your neck prompting you to cry out. 

She doesn’t let you do much else. Quickly moving on from the one-sided conversation to grab her knife, you watch as she mumbles under her breath, turning the blade between her fingers with a grin. “In untimely death comes timely renewal, remember?” she says, letting it ghost across your bare chest, pushing the edge against it until it breaks the skin. 

You barely feel the first insertion. As the blade dips through the layers of your flesh, the only thing you feel is her breath. The pattern of air that puffs against your face as she recites those aforementioned words, taunting you as she pulls it down. 

In untimely death comes timely renewal. In untimely death comes timely renewal. In untimely death comes timely renewal…

As the knife moves lower, you repeat the words in unison like a mantra, struggling to get them out through gritted teeth as she works to cut you open. To slice your torso from the sternum down revealing countlessly re-healed bones and slimy organs that lie in waiting for her to pluck.

Hovering above you, her hands move to survey such handiwork, her fingers stroking the edges of your open skin before they inevitably dive right in, ripping you awake. 

You feel the pressure of her inside your gut before it really hits that it’s done. Shooting upward, you cough and double over in an instant, pressing your hands shakily to the ground in front of you. 

It’s the worst dream you’ve had yet. Longer than all the others, you can feel the adrenaline of it all penetrating your thoughts. Overthrowing every single anxiety you’ve ever felt as you sniff back tears, pushing yourself towards the entrance of your tent. 

Pulling it open, you look around the camp in desperation, catching the eye of Wyll who raises his brow, watching as you shake your head, slipping further into the ground.

Before you can even think he’s on you, reaching for your shoulders, asking you what’s wrong and how he can help. In response, you make no effort to reach back. To remedy your pain as you continue to shake and cry, sobbing out the cursed mantra through heavy gasps that leave him panicking. 

“Guys! Something’s wrong!”

As he calls out to the rest of the group, you quickly find yourself surrounded by familiar faces. All of them looking down to see your hysteria unfold. 

“What happened?” Dropping to her knees, Shadowheart’s the first to your side, moving her hands to cup your face before you swat her away, mouthing the words over and over and over again. 

“I don’t know!” 

“You don’t know?”

The two of them continue to bicker. As Wyll explains the way you crawled out of your tent, mumbling something about death, you force yourself to shuffle back, maneuvering your body so that you’re half sitting inside your tent again, watching it all unfold. Focusing on the confusion as Lae’zel and Karlach stand in the wings, muttering to each other words you can’t quite hear while Gale stares down at your mouth, watching the words you speak only to yourself as your eyes start to dart around. 

Surveying the rest of the camp, you wipe away your tears and try to breathe, forcing your mouth to stop its repetitions once you remember the ache inside your chest. 

Because of the Illithid, you can still feel her handiwork. Beneath your sweaty tunic, you can sense its edges burning —stinging from the aftermath as you press a hand to your sternum, making sure you’re still intact. Making sure your organs aren’t on display as you catch sight of Astarion coming up the path. 

He’s nose deep in a book when you see him, scanning the pages with interest before his eyes inevitably raise to see your nervous frame, curling into your tent. Then his interest fades. Evaporating into thin air before it’s replaced with fear. Genuine, heartbreaking fear that has him moving so quickly he fades out of view before reappearing in front of you. 

“What happened?” 

Just like Shadowheart, his hands cup your cheeks, gripping the plush as he lowers himself down, moving his forehead to yours. 

Unlike before you make no effort to push him away. Instead, all you do is frown and try to suppress the tears, clawing at his shirt with desperate pleas, begging him to stay. Begging him to tell you that everything’s going to be okay. Begging for him to lie and say he’ll protect you just like you did for him. 

Using your tadpole you beg him over and over again, letting the tears silently fall from your face, not caring that the whole party is watching.

All you need is him. In falseness or in truth, you don’t care. You just need him to ground you. To call you darling and to make you laugh. To make you feel like you’re something more than a vessel of organs one day destined for harvest. 

As your chest begins to heave, letting all the nightmares unfold all over again, you feel the tadpole behind your eye squirm in response, asking you to let him in. Without hesitation, you close your eyes and swallow hard, feeling his thoughts start to overthrow the visions of her and her knives and the mantra that sticks haphazardly across your brain matter.

I’m here, you’re safe.

For once it feels like a promise. A silent vow meant only for you as he ushers you further into the tent, saying something to your peers before closing it up. After that he readjusts the bedroll with gentle hands, always keeping a single palm against the small of your back, even when he guides you to lie against his chest. 

It’s the first time in weeks that you’ve felt safe. Resting a cheek just below his collarbone, you can feel your breath begin to return to its normal state. No longer ravaged by the panic of your dreams, it moves in and out, fanning the fabric of his shirt. 

“Was it a nightmare?”

You nod. Unsure how to explain it because, while it is a nightmare, it somehow feels so much more. 

“Of the past or?”

“Sort of.” 

He hums curiously, glancing down to see your hand slide up his chest to grip his shirt. 

“It feels like I’m answering a call.”

“A call?”

“Like there’s a person trying to reach me and when I answer I can… I can feel them.”

“Feel them?” 

You can tell he doesn’t quite understand. Not that you blame him for it. The whole concept of these nightmares still vexs even yourself. Leave you stumbling in confusion each night you find yourself awake, struggling to remember what’s real and what’s not. 

The nightmares are not as easily explainable as the actual torture you’ve endured. Especially considering that up until now there had been periods where the memories had died. Days where her face was nothing more than a splotch of white against a backdrop of black, slowly fading away. 

It doesn’t make sense why they're suddenly returning. Why your mind is forcing you to relieve these memories night after night. 

“Does your tadpole make it hard for you to dream?”

There's no hesitation when he says yes. No moment thought before his answer, making you wonder if maybe he too is experiencing these dreams. 

“I feel like it amplifies everything.”

Looking up to gauge his response, you can see the worry clouding his eyes. How his expression sort of fades into the abyss as his eyes focus on yours. 

“I dream of the past a lot. Of my life before this and… and I can feel it. Everything that ever happened I can feel all over again and it’s—“

“Painful.” His voice is broken. A crack in the mirror, shattering the often joyous image of his face as he looks away, blinking. 

Without even processing your movements you prop yourself up on your elbow, reaching over to grab his cheek and pull him back in. “I wish you didn’t understand how it felt.”

There’s a flicker of hurt that hits his face, enveloping his features before the previous sadness kicks in again and he’s reaching for your wrist, tightening around it. “Yes, well, not all of us get the luck of the draw when it comes to good lives.” 

“You should’ve,” you tell him.

He scoffs and closes his eyes, a faint smile pulling at his lips. “You’re probably the only one that thinks that.” 

You let your thumb explore his cheek. Let it move in soft circles, taking in the way it shifts beneath your touch. 

It feels strange to be this close to him even after all of the other intimate moments you’ve shared. Something about it feels softer, more honest than the rest of them, making your heart beat rapidly against your chest, threatening to burst. 

“I know it’s not my business but if you ever want to talk about it—“

He places a kiss to your hand, letting his lips linger against the pad of your thumb as he closes his eyes, reaching around to grip your waist. 

In an instant, the words drift out of your mind once you feel it; lost to a touch you didn’t realize you longed for.

Swallowing hard you lay back down to look away, feeling a bit overwhelmed at the tender image that unfolds as his arm shifts again, accommodating your movement. Making you feel that rush of comfort return as he pulls his mouth away and clears his throat. 

“I’m, uh… I’m not good at this kind of thing.” 

“Vulnerability?” you joke, earning yourself a snort. 

“I suppose that’s a word you can use.” 

“To be fair, neither am I.” 

You feel him shift to meet your gaze, looking at you with surprise. “Really now? I think breaking down in front of the whole camp just so that you can find me is quite the effort of—“

Before he can finish you clamp your hand around his mouth. “I was in shock, you bastard. I wasn’t thinking about my dignity.” 

Flexing around your palm, you feel him smile before he pulls away. “That’s good because there was absolutely nothing dignified about the way you looked at me back there. It was…” He trails off, his words catching in his throat for a moment before he clears it again. “You scared me.” 

There’s a moment of silence after that, lasting far longer for it to be deemed comfortable as you lay there, wide awake, wishing you could get him to talk to you. Hoping that maybe if you reach out with the Illithid he’ll answer your questions. 

Closing your eyes, you feel his presence in your mind already, vying for your attention in a way that has you both moving in closer, tightening your hold. 

Show me the dream. 

It isn’t a question or a request but a simple command that has you obeying —letting him enter your thoughts. Letting him stand along the sidelines as she guides you to the ground and cuts you open all over again. Letting him listen to the recital of words that are spoken behind two frozen expressions as Astarion pulls you tighter against him, placing his mouth to your forehead to stop himself from crying. 

-

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[mahoushojo-chan]

Astarion x Tav || bed sharing

one forever won't be enough

synopsis: it's a habit they picked up from travelling together. every so often, astarion came to tav at night. it turned into something that he needs sometimes, even if he'd really rather not admit it. instead of lying in his old bunk, astarion chooses not to be alone.

an excerpt of "'cause my love (is mine, all mine)"

word count: 1203

pairing: astarion/tav

other tags: f!reader, bed sharing, tooth-rotting fluff, hurt/comfort, non-sexual intimacy, romantic tension, late night conversations, friends to lovers, song inspo: where do i begin by Egg

ao3: here

concept: bed sharing

At night, Astarion lies in his old bunk. It’s rough, grating, and it creaks every time he shifts, and he’s pretty sure he couldn’t enter trance even if he tried. It’s telling that he would rather lay on a bedroll laid over hard rock than ‘his’ own bed, but the last time he laid in this bed, he was still a slave. Just Cazador’s spawn.

Somehow, it feels even emptier than back then. He doesn't have Petras sleeping in the top bunk, snoring loud enough for him to kick the mattress above. He doesn't have Dalyria in the bunk beside him, hiding a light underneath her sheets while she dove her research into the next topic. There isn't Leon in the corner, whispering sweet comforts to his little girl, Victoria. It’s too quiet all on his own.

Then, even with his new companions, he can't hear Gale patronizing Wyll about this or that kind of magic, he can't hear Karlach playing with Scratch or the Owlbear, and there is no occasional thump of Lae’zel’s late-night training. He had gotten used to all of it as some kind of white noise for the next dawn.

Besides, he thinks, he should get used to his nocturnal schedule again, so staying awake wouldn’t be too bad. It would keep the nightmares away, at least. He had enough of Cazador. He thinks of Tav, who he hopes is sleeping peacefully away.

In the dark, he has to confront the reality that he and Tav are worlds apart. He wonders if she’ll be able to adapt to this schedule.

The door to the Favoured Spawn room opens, the room that Tav had taken, with a quiet creak that only Astarion would hear. Then, the mattress dips, and a hesitant arm wraps around her waist and pulls Tav in as someone nestles in close.

“Mm… still awake, Star?” She mutters, though he’s more surprised to hear that she’s still awake.

“Yes.” Astarion replies in a whisper, because it feels like the night calls for whispers, even when the entire palace is empty.

It’s a habit they picked up from travelling together. Every so often, Astarion came to Tav to sleep. Tav knows that it first started after he first drank from her and she found herself exhausted enough to slip unconscious; but it turned into something that he needs sometimes, even though he’d really rather not admit it. Tav thought it would end after Astarion made it clear that he wasn’t ready for a relationship, and she decided to be friends, rather than lovers. It seemed to be what he needed at the time, but she also knows that this—whatever this is, lying in bed together, in the dark, holding each other and whispering—isn’t really something friends do. Astarion has never had any friends, but even he suspects this is something that is beyond friendship.

But this isn’t sexual, either. He can't think of a single conquest who he had done this with because this felt too vulnerable. This felt like a different reality, reframing what it meant to find comfort in the dark.

With a sigh, Tav turns around to face Astarion. He sees her eyes, heavy-lidded with sleep, and he brushes some hair out of her face. It’s never as awkward as it should be.

“I’m not sure if I’m ready to face them.” Astarion whispers, truthful and defeated, because holding Tav in the darkness brings about a whole different world around him; one where he can tell Tav anything.

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to, Star.” She says, and it does something to his chest when she whispers his nickname in that tone, with that softness of sleep tinging her voice.

Astarion huffs out a whisper of a laugh. “I do want to. They’re… something like family, after all. They’re the closest thing I have to love.”

“I love you,” she protests, her voice still quiet. He knows this is not what friends do. They are in bed holding each other, now declaring love for each other, in the comfort of darkness. Astarion has never had anyone he had been this intimate with, even in the throes of passion, and he feels that he should think more about what this means.

“Fine, then. They’re the closest thing, other than you.” He drawls affectionately, feeling a tug at his lips even as he rolls his eyes. “But still, they’re not like you. I’m not like you. I can’t be good like you, and I’m afraid they know that. It feels like I’ll have to solve all of this world’s problems to be worthy of forgiveness, and even then, they would be right not to give it to me. They might never forgive me.”

“Then they’d be fools, the lot of them.” She says, and though she still sounds asleep, her eyes look at him with a sincerity he knows. If there’s one consistency about Tav’s behaviour, it’s that she has no patience for fools, and he can’t help but laugh.

A silence passes through them for a moment. “Do you think I’m evil?”

“No.” She says. “Even I’m not nearly as good as you think I am. Out of the two of us, you’re far more special. You make me think anything is possible.”

It’s odd because he can imagine saying the exact same thing to her. He wonders if she was just reading his thoughts and saying the words out loud, and if it was some sort of byproduct left by the mind-reading tadpole. But then again, he can’t at all understand why she would think he was special, and if they did still have the tadpoles, he would wish to see himself through her eyes. He wants to see what she sees in him—this brave, dashing, kind, supportive, heroic man, capable of love and goodness.

He wonders what would happen if he kissed her. 

Not that he was particularly sexually attracted to her, though he admits that objectively, she is attractive. He has a working pair of eyes and a good sense of taste, after all. And honestly, he doesn’t even know if she’s attracted to him—he thinks she might be, because Astarion hadn’t met many people who weren’t, but she also never asked him for anything sexual. Even their first night together, he always wondered if she had truly wanted it, or if he was just taking advantage of their desperate, life-or-death situation. All her intimacy seemed strictly… well, not exactly platonic, but not sexual, either. And it didn’t feel quite romantic, either.

But he wonders what she would do. What might she see? What might she feel?

He compromises by resting the crown of his head on hers, and quietly, he whispers, “Thank you for loving me.”

“Of course I would.” She replies, sounding fond, before closing her eyes. He can tell that sleep is about to take her again as she sighs, “Don’t worry about who you think you’ve got to be. Just be Astarion. It’s good enough.”

Her breaths even out, and he does his best to match her, taking in the air she exhales. He runs fingers through her hair again as she drifts to sleep.

[limpfisted]

A WYLL poll to cheer me up bc I keep thinking about all the wyll polls I've seen in the tag where he loses

There are many more things to love about wyll.... but of these things, which are ur faves..... reblog add ur own favorite things in the tags... perhaps I will make a part 2 of more things such as "approves when a goblin kisses ur toes" "refuses to engage in bdsm with a strange white man in a goblin camp, but supports ur decision anyway." "Gets kind of horny when u lick a spider." "Believes in the rights and dignity of the disabled like himsel and will tolerate nothing else" "THE BLADE OF FRONTIERS SALUTE!!!!!" "Ex-president of the dribbles fan society (of which he was the only member) this is a joke however if u pick up the clown pieces he goes 'sorry dribbles' and is the only one to laugh at dribbles joke and pretend he doesn't but still goes I love a good clown... [blade of frontiers vc] and dribbles.. is THE BEST!!!" "Meows in public." And so many other wondrous things....

Wyll warriors, ravenguardians. I know... truly an impossible choice to pick just one thing... but u must.

[gnomishcunning]

bg3 companion camp habits

ft. astarion, karlach, wyll, shadowheart, lae'zel, gale & halsin

Astarion

earliest to bed, earliest to rise. it leaves more time to sneak around at night. unfortunately for him that means lae'zel has him on hunting duty, in order to find something substantial for dinner the next day.

insures team tadpole camps within walking distance of some source of running water. if not running water, a lake; if not a lake, a pond. after tagging around with tav all day and coming home covered in blood, his daily soaks are sacred

despite actually not needing to sleep, his tent is the cushiest in camp: his bedroll is piled high with luxurious furs and silken pillows

trances with curlers in his hair. that coif doesn't maintain itself y'know, as much as astarion would like you to think it does

Karlach

her tent is open-air in order to reduce the likelihood she catches it on fire overnight

simultaneously a super-light sleeper while retaining the the ability to fall asleep within five minutes in any given environment, on any given surface. ten years in avernus have honed those survival instincts into a sharp edge, and she can be up and ready to brawl in an instant

banned from contributing to dinner on account of infernal taste buds: the amount of chili powder she'd added to the group soup that one time almost killed shadowheart and made astarion get the night sweats for the first time in 200 years

her contributions to camp including anything involving copious amounts of hot water. unfortunately, this usually has her stuck on laundry duty with halsin

Wyll

next to halsin and karlach, wyll's the most comfortable camping in the wilderness on a day-to-day basis. seven years as the blade of the frontiers meant wandering the sword coast looking for monsters, and not all of that was near civilization

crippling addiction to tea. picks up local varieties at every settlement the party passes through; it's what you see him swirling in that silver cup of his night to night.

while gale's in charge of dinner, wyll's in charge of breakfast. he's got a carafe of coffee on the fire when people start to rise, and there's always a pan of something delicious-smelling and ready to dish out by the time someone manages to wake up halsin.

he's had that ripped-up crop top he sleeps in since his teens, and it's been worth to that point of sweet age-soft. he has trouble sleeping in anything else at this point

Shadowheart

doesn't need as much sleep to function at full capacity the next day: she's perfectly fine on five or six hours. whether that's a lucky genetic twist of shadowheart's genetic heritage or a blessing of shar is anyone's guess - this usually has her as the second one awake

tends to volunteer for first watch and uses that time to pray

has a bit of a second sense for finding good campsites: places with highly defensible positions, a fresh water source, carefully tucked into the shadows of natural glades or high rocks

has one of the more elaborate hair routines in the group, second only to astarion's curl-care. she and the vampire spawn have a silent agreement to assist with setup and share haircare products when necessary.

Lae'zel

self-assigned camp commander (not camp mom - astarion tried to make a snide comment once and was glared down). her militaristic upbringing has left her the only one with enough organizational skills to insure the motley crew of team tadpole don't accidentally starve themselves to death in the wilderness

keeps an exacting inventory of what they have on hand, from food to spell-scrolls and spare socks and tadpoles in brain-jars, must to her chagrin. anything taken from the traveler's chest must be noted so she can keep track of what the team needs

created a chore chart. the chore chart is holy. it plays to everyone's strengths and evenly distributes labor. astarion once tried to fuck with it: he was left doing his own laundry for a week, much to his chagrin

as much as she'd like to brag about githyanki endurance, she requires an exacting eight hours of sleep to function. the rest of team tadpole insures she gets it, since nobody likes a grumpy githyanki

Gale

self-assigned camp cook within days of joining team tadpole. to his surprise, lae'zel completely agreed

has a few cookbooks stacked among the piles of literature around his tent, including a dog-eared recipe book from mama dekarios. his travel spice-rack was an additional gift from her as well, one he covets with all his heart.

could care less about his lion's mane and mostly resolves to slicking it back with whatever oil or grease they have on-hand first thing in the morning, but takes exacting care of his beard

has a bad tendency to stay up too late sleeping, and is subsequently the last one to rise first thing in the morning\

Halsin

doesn't even bother to set up his tent half the time, perfectly willing to spend the night in bear form. this has caused some confusion first thing in the morning when an actual bear wandered into camp one morning and wyll greeted it warmly, much to halsin's amusement

will grow goodberries to add to the morning's oatmeal or pancakes; secret weakness for coffee

tends to tackle laundry duty with karlach, mostly since the giant mountain of a druid is the best at actually toting mountains of blood-spoiled linens across camp.

assists with hunting duties, even if the meat he tends to bring backs is a little more roughed up compared to astarion's exsanguinated prey

bonus:

Tav

group oddball, usually ends up doing whatever odd chore lae'zel assigns them

unofficially in-charge of campfire entertainment, including breaking up fights between lae'zel and shadowheart over go-fish, or insuring astarion doesn't cheat during poker

the camp keeps meaning to buy them a tent. they never do. tav's been crashing around the campfire since the beginning, and they only actually get a tent once they have a significant other

not allowed to assist with dinner since the Noodle IncidentTM

[istoleyoursk1n]

How would the boys react to a Tav who looks absolutely innocent only to be horrendously brutal in battle 👀

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

TAV who appears innocent but is actually brutal in battle

.

.

: ̗̀➛ ASTARION

“And you expect me to align myself with the blissful little fool who stops to smell the roses? Oh, dear, who do you take me for?”

Barely cares for you and views you as nothing more than a naive imbecile at first. He finds your sweetness and innocence amusing, laughable even, but he’d scoff at the sight of you chasing after butterflies.

If anything he’d either brush you off or attempt to stain that innocence for his own enjoyment

A pinch close to dismissing your use of the group

Until he saw you fight

Utterly baffled when he first saw you but the shock was quickly overtaken by that all-so-familiar coy look on his face that came just before some sort of witty remark.

He’s impressed, amazed even, but he waits until after the battle to make his own comments about it.

In truth, he adores just how quickly you change from pure sweetness to vile brutality. Now that is something he can definitely work with.

There is just something so astonishing about seeing you demolish an entire group of goblins without much of a break or even a need for assistance. You’re relentless and strong, never letting anything stand in your way in battle, something he himself admires. Any past disgust or disregard he had for you slowly vanishes and instead is replaced with a curious interest.

“Well, darling, aren't you full of surprises? Here I was thinking we’d brought along a lost pup. I’m certainly glad to know you've got a hard bite hidden within you. Such a fiery little thing you are.”

: ̗̀➛WYLL

“Hm. It's quite nice to have a glimmer of light amidst all the chaos spewing about. I wonder what kind of flowers have you picked today?”

Finds your innocence/general sweetness to be some form of relief for him especially during the rather bleak moments of your journey. It's something he could always look to from afar to give himself a moment to smile.

He finds your innocence endearing, a source of warmth that he couldn't help but indulge in, thus compelling him to speak with you more often than most.

Was shocked when he first saw you fight.

He was speechless at first, his eyes widening at the sight of you ripping your enemy's throats without much of a second thought. He had to blink twice to ensure that it was indeed you doing all that.

The shock slowly turned into a wide-open-mouthed smile and a soft chuckle upon seeing just how great you were in battle. You were terrifying in your own right but it didn't dissuade Wyll’s interest in you in the slightest.

Wouldn't stop praising your fighting skills right after, and kept going on and on about possible titles for you in a playful manner. Though the sincerity in his eyes said otherwise.

“Is Slayer Of Beasts not an eligible title for you? Oh! How about… no that wouldn't work either. Regardless, your combat skills are impeccable! Truly, none could compare to your grace with a blade.”

: ̗̀➛GALE

“Ah. No harm in stopping to admire the view I suppose. What is it that you see? Aside from the brilliant rays of the sun of course.”

Doesn't exactly mind your innocence or your sweetness, he doesn't consider it a hindrance nor is he amused by it. If you want to stop attempting to pet every creature you see why should he be bothered?

Would probably question why you seem so blissfully ignorant or completely aloof out of his own curiosity but he wouldn't judge you for it.

Would sometimes tag along with you whenever you do get sidetracked but he’ll also be the subtle reminder that you should probably get going.

Slightly concerned that you’d constantly need assistance in battle or in particularly rough situations.

Pleasantly surprised when he discovers your brutality in battle.

Now he's all too curious as to where that entire ‘personality switch’ spews from. He won't stop asking questions about where you learned to be so brutal, why are you so different in and out of battle and so on.

Be prepared for every question he throws but do know it's only because he's become even more interested in you!

“Your prowess in battle is most certainly commendable! I do wonder where you could have learned such intense methods of combat? One could never turn a blind eye to a remarkable display of undeniable skill.”

: ̗̀➛HALSIN

“What a gift you are, to be so wondrously lost in bliss, running across fields of the oak father’s ever-blooming flowers. I may wish to join you someday.”

Also rather pleasantly amused with your innocence and/or sweetness. It was one of the first things he took notice of other than your scent of course. He finds it rather adorable that most things go over your head.

He has no qualms about you, even with your innocence and your seemingly soft demeanor, he places his full trust in you in whatever mission you set yourself off to.

Comes across as a bit protective at times as he views you as something fragile, something to be handled carefully.

Though in truth, he sees more potential in you than how most view you in your party. There must be more to you than an innocent little smile.

Taken aback upon realizing just how brutal you were in battle.

Sure, such brutality and violence could be useful against the foes of nature but he hopes that you never turn such strength against your fellow comrades and the innocents.

Other than that, he's impressed, commending you for your undeniable strength and skill in terms of battle.

If anything, he's grown more infatuated with you, amazed by both the sweetness you exude and the glorious beast you become in the heat of combat.

“Nature had made you all too perfectly, a delicate flower in the arms of your comrades and a ferocious yet beautiful creature when bathed in the blood of your adversaries. Breathtaking. Truly breathtaking.”

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

[tlonista]

A whole mess of Astarion hurt/comfort fanfic recs

OK fine I've read so much Astarion hurt/comfort-adjacent fic that I should really put together an incomplete rec list. Be warned that with Astarion's canon backstory there's a lot of abuse and assault references of varying explicitness, so check the AO3 tags. I'm also limiting myself to one fic per author because otherwise I'd end up with several pages of Asidian and FlowerCitti. In case you're wondering, my personal contribution to the field is Seducere.

Ongoing Fics:

innocence died screaming by FlowerCitti

Comprehensive pre- and in-canon Astarion character study. Contains possibly the most heartwrenching post-Astarion-locked-tomb-era turn I've ever read. Very good.

Another Path by Asidian

A sweet Wyllstarion monster hunter x monster no-tadpole AU in which Astarion gets captured/rescued by Wyll straight out of a year in a coffin and navigates basic human kindness for the first time in a couple centuries.

Seen by ayvaines

Modern Bloodweave AU where Cazador is Astarion's cruel, controlling boyfriend and Gale is the kind D&D GM who's hosting them both in a game. As makes sense for a modern AU, it's a more-understated-than-canon take on Astarion coming to terms with the fact that he's in an abusive relationship, working out his feelings about Cazador through tabletop roleplaying, including some clever scenes dealing with the bleed of intense RPG sessions.

Heartbeats by LadyRagnelle

Canon-divergent Durgestarion fic where Astarion was recaptured by his siblings, memory-wiped, and then rescued by a team of companions he no longer remembers. A lot of well-executed (and sometimes surprisingly funny) angst around Astarion, charlatan that he is, trying to pretend he hasn't forgotten absolutely everything including how to be a non-level-1 rogue and have friends.

The stars began to burn by peregrinefeathers

Gale is trapped in fantasy nullspace and gets Astarion free of Cazador's clutches, after which they navigate an odd-couple relationship while trying to kill Cazador and pull Gale back into the physical world. Another classic "Astarion learns what human decency is" no-tadpole AU.

Memoir by IzzyIzGay

An Interview with the Vampire-style fic in which Astarion tells Gale about his time under Cazador, playing with that series' trademark unreliable narration and an unusually literal version of Cazador's creepy family dynamic.

Starved by neo7v

A modern non-magical Bloodweave AU featuring Astarion and the lonely degradation of a precarious service industry job! Only a few chapters so far, but seriously, it takes the "vampiric starvation" theme in a direction that's very mundane and miserable and compelling and it's one of my favorite recently started fics.

Unexpected Guests by Erandir

Another "get loved and cared for, sucker" no-tadpole AU featuring a non-Tav druid OC taking care of a lost Astarion who's escaped Baldur's Gate. Astarion and druids, the perfect foil.

Through The Night Dark And Drear by JJJSchmidt

Astarion is accidentally bargained off to an archfey by Cazador and taken to the palace of infuriatingly confusing fair folk magic! There's still a lot of story left to be uncovered, but I love the worldbuilding and fairy-tale premise.

snare by parsnipit

A Halstarion fic where Astarion never got tadpoled and the gang ends up rescuing him from Cazador, post-game, with his compulsions very much intact. Which leads naturally to hissing wet cat Astarion reluctantly learning to trust Halsin while they plot to take down Cazador.

One-Shots:

Quick Step by starkraving

starkraving's another person who could have made up a big chunk of this list, and this character study plays really well on the classic "how the hell does Astarion know how to be a rogue anyway" fandom conversation. My favorite entry in a good and growing series of Astarion-centered fics.

Gifts by Feena_c

Astarion gets caught by Cazador before the confrontation at the palace. Impeccable "Cazador doesn't realize Astarion didn't just come back to Baldur's Gate, he came back loved" vibe, as Cazador tries to break Astarion by taking away the gifts the tadpole gang gave him along the way.

What is Affection but the Absence of Cruelty by Aztec24

One of my favorite tropes is "Astarion tortures himself by obsessively imagining how awful these perfectly nice people will be to him," and this very much delivers. Featuring a rare two-Tavs-plus-Astarion throuple!

The Mimic by ForsakenFlyingCircus

This is really hurt-no-comfort, but I'm including it because it's a good super sad take on dehumanization with an awful Tav confirming all the worst things Astarion thinks about himself and the world, touching on the whole problem of sentient monsters in D&D.

Peel the scars from off my back by WitchyBee

A Spawn Family fic in the aftermath of Astarion getting Cazador's contract on his back - lots of antagonistic but grudgingly caring sibling interaction and Astarion being satisfyingly ambivalent about it all.

Complete Multi-Chapter Fic:

Just A Taste by NightmareGiraffe

The tadpole gang gets imprisoned at Moonrise Towers and Astarion accepts an offer from Araj Oblodra in exchange for their freedom. A very dark yet totally in-character elaboration on the canon blood merchant encounter, plus a cool dragonborn Tav.

The Accountant’s Guide to Taking Down an Evil Vampire Lord (and maybe bagging Astarion while you are at it) by Cinnamontails

A charming f!OC-who-isn't-Tav/Astarion longfic that combines hurt/comfort with het romance novel conventions, which I feel like is rarely pulled off.

And I know there's a ton I missed here -- god this fandom is big.