#{ karlach and astarion thread }

[astralleywright]

spent like an hour trying to find a post abt the disparity of origin companion's content in bg3 and couldn't so, hey, this fucking sucks

[faerun-folk]

Tav thread???  I wanna see em all.

• Tav name/pic

• Race

• Class

• Backstory

• Personality

• Who they're romancing

• An interesting hobby they have

[faerunscursed]

[MAKE-UP]: while applying make-up on Karlach's face, Astarion cups their face in order to keep them still.

Karlach had never been a makeup person, even before her time in Avernus. It wouldn't have mattered anyway, simply because she was a tiefling. And while Tiefings were not uncommon in Baldurs Gate, they weren't always treated with decency. So, why put on make up when it would only make her more of something to poke at?

This was the same mentality that Karlach had as a grown woman. However, Astarion simply had a whim to put even just the faintest bit of make up on her and she didn't say no. That didn't mean she wasn't going freak the fuck out. She had no idea what he was doing to her face, and that caused an anxiety spike.

"I swear if you're making me look like some damn clown, you and I are going to have words." Karlach muttered as she tried her best to contain the constant anxiety of it all. More importantly she was highly insecure already. No amount of make up could distract from just how much a fiend she looked like, from her more impish tail to her curved devil-like horns...

"You know, no amount of makeup his going to hide all of my flaws right?" Karlach said, though tried to hide her insecurity through a fake smile. "Why are you doing this anyway? Since when do you care about fucking make up of all things?"

[cannibalisticskittles]

also if/when astarion learns abt who amity previously/most recently had feelings for, i think that he'd be... less than pleased lmao

if it's before he's got feelings for her, he just thinks she's a silly little fool for being so lovelorn and moony over some -- to him -- average, forgettable halfling. and for what? earnestness? ha.

if it's after he's got feelings for her, well. now he's going to agonize a bit over what the fuck the common thread is. like yes, he's worried that perhaps his looks are the biggest/possibly only draw to him. and yes, the previous object of her affection... to him seems to suggest that that's not what she goes for. but what the fuck does she go for then. what is the common denominator.

joke's on you astarion, she's used to traveling with ridiculously hot people. she recognizes it, and recognizes that he's very pretty, but her restraint is fucking god-like at this point. got to bring more to the table to really catch her eye.

[savingthrcw]

open: main companions getting Lex's support and help even if she doesn't support their religion/attempts to get infinite power/bloodlust

"I hope you know I'm not going to let you deal with this alone," Lex tossed Scratch's ball, and the dog ran to get it back. "I also hope you know I'm not letting you risk your life, if you die I'll kill you."

[delta-lethonomia]

There's a reddit thread on the BG3 sub where the user u/InklingRain posted a spreadsheet they made with all the companion approvals. Super useful in general both for playing the game and for fic, so I thought I'd post it on tumblr and play around a little!

There's a top row with the average approval by companion, but I didn't find that very useful, so I changed it to the count of approvals (i.e. count of approvals & disapproval total, how often a companion had a reaction to something). We all know Astarion gives a lot of disapprovals here and there, but they're only -1 at a time, so no big deal, right?

No. Minsc has the least at only 45 reactions, Halsin at 95, Minthara at 145, and of the main companions, Gale is pretty average at 198, Lae'zel at 224, and Shadowheart, rather opinionated at 258...

but that's nothing compared to Astarion's 406. That's almost 150 more than the next person!!! That's more than Minthara and Shadowheart combined! Babygirl really woke up one day and decided to get in a snit over everything that happens 😂

(Longer post about count of positive and negative opinions, sum of approvals and disapprovals, and some major outliers below. Picture with values at the very end.)

But that's a bit disingenuous. If we look at the ratio of positive to negative opinions (not taking value into account), Astarion's pretty average at 30% (negative count over sum count, so let's call that negativity). This is similar to Gale (31%), Karlach (30%), and Lae'zel (32%). In theory, getting Astarion's approval or disapproval is just as easy as any of theirs, with a 20% bias towards positive approvals. Later companions are weighted heavily towards the lower end of the spectrum, with Jaheira at 13% negativity and Minsc at 9%. As you only get them very late, it's pretty clear that the game gives you a lot of opportunities to get their approvals and thus open up more of their quests and dialogue.

However. We have an outlier. Wyll Ravenguard, clocking in at an indecent 38% negativity! Which really just goes to show, while Astarion is the most opinionated, Wyll has the most disapprovals, making him the judgiest companion of all 🤣

However, this really wouldn't be a good post if we didn't look at the value of approvals. Karlach, for instance, has the strongest disapproval value of -100 (given if you sleep with her and then call it a mistake). Ouch. This is clearly at outlier and doesn't say much about Karlach's changeability of opinion in general. If we look at the sum of positive and negative opinions, this is a very heavy swing, making up 100 points of her total 191 disapproval points possible to her 281 approvals total. Another outlier is Minsc, who currently possesses a 43% disapproval percentage (a heavy -50 disapproval given if you sacrifice him to Sarevok. Jaheira, by contrast, apparently doesn't give a damn, or her value might simply not be included in the dateset.)

Removing outliers is really a matter of opinion here, so I'll only remove the most extreme swings, such as the above mentioned disapprovals.

The otherwise strongest swings are Astarion (-15 for telling him it was a mistake preventing him from drinking Araj's blood, or saying you only wanted to sleep with him, not deal with his trauma) and Wyll (+20 for siding with Karlach during his confrontation with her, which really shows he didn't really want to kill her and is very grateful you stopped him). Halsin gives +40 for reuniting Oliver with Thaniel, which...lifting the shadow curse is sort of his life's mission, and a bit of a unique case, so while it makes sense, I think it's such a unique event that can't be topped by anything else and will remove it. Jaheira give +20 for extending the Emperor's protection to Minsc, and, for funsies, Minthara's heaviest disapproval is -5 for donating to Lolth at the Stormshore Tabernacle. (lol)

I only chose to remove the aforementioned Karlach, Minsc, and Halsin values, as they're all very large swings and rather character-defining or personal to the individuals mentioned, so I don't think it says much about them in a more general day-to-day sense.

Now, using the sums of our negative and positive values, Gale is our most Negative Nancy, clocking in at 37%, which goes to show that while he's pretty average for the amount of things he cares about, when he disapproves, it's a strong one. Next up is Astarion at 35%, and Wyll at 34%. Lowest are Jaheira and Minsc at 7% and 4% respectively, which makes an intuitive sort of sense: Jaheira is old and just over being upset by the players poor choices, and Minsc is an insanely positive person overall. The next most positive companion is Halsin at 13%, which also matches with his vibe pretty well, followed by Minthara at 17%, Karlach at 24%, Lae'zel at 26%, and Shadowheart at 28%.

Tl;dr: Astarion has many, many opinions, but Wyll is the most judgemental (most disapprovals compared to approvals possible). However, when it comes to the strength of those disapprovals, Gale reigns supreme, followed by Astarion.

If don't break Karlach's heart, help Halsin achieve his life's ambition, or sacrifice Minsc, then they're pretty positive overall. Later companions are heavily weighted to approve of your actions, and Minthara is comparatively judgemental, but overall far more easy to gain approval than disapproval from.

If you take the average of all these values and include the later companions to look at as a personality "baseline" of how judgy and how strong those disapprovals may be, then...the Act 1 companions are all dramatic af, which really should come to no ones' surprise, while Karlach is the most willing to give the benefit of the doubt imo.

[runes-menagerie]

"I meant in battle. My powers have grown in the time we've been apart." Astarion corrected while looking highly amused. He did have a fair amount of influence although not nearly as much as she thought he might. He had been more concerned with establishing himself and taking over what was left of his former master's network of spies and informants. It was tedious work but he had learned patience and this party proved it had been worth the effort. "It would be interesting to fight beside him again. See if he's picked up any new tricks. The same goes for you. Perhaps we can go hunting together some time. Bring back a deer or a boar or something. Or maybe find some goblins to slaughter like old times."

Astarion truthfully had very few plans for the Gate at the moment. He was mostly focused on securing a place for himself and ensuring that he wouldn't be reached anywhere near as easily as they had reached his former master. And should Wyll wish the title of Duke, well Astarion had no plans to stand in the way. Especially if he could reach an understanding with the other male to keep any potential vampire hunters out of the city.

"I wouldn't put it past Jaheira. I've seen a few suspicious mice in the house so far." Astarion replied with a soft chuckle. Truthfully he wasn't too worried about the Harper. He no longer felt as hungry for blood and so he had either been hunting animals or paying prostitutes to let him drink without biting or killing them. He knew there were many eyes on him so he was careful to act above reproach. "If you do see her before me, then ask if she knows any good horse merchants. I'd like to have a few around in case I don't feel like hunting for dinner."

He was hoping that implication he still mostly fed on animals would help settle her some. He truthfully preferred the blood of thinking beings but since his thirst had greatly reduced after Ascending he hadn't been feeding as often. Just enough to maintain and grow his power.

"We all deserve some luxury, you especially. I'll let a servant know to prepare a room for you. It should be ready by the end of the party if you wish to stay the night." Astarion said, relaxing slightly when she accepted his offer. "It really is good to have you back Karlach."

Karlach raised a brow at his statement but it was with an expression that gave him the benefit of the doubt. Possibly a mistake but that was for the future to worry about. "He is the rightful Duke, pretty sure he could do that by himself if he so wanted." Karlach was testing the waters. Surely Astarion couldn't be in control of absolutely everything. Not in such a short time - not with Ulder Ravengard re-taking up the helm of Duke, from what she and Wyll had learned. If Wyll wanted to take his fathers place when the time was right, surely Astarion wasn't needed for that... Right?

So Jaheira was still incredibly suspicious of him. It made sense, given her history. If anything, it told Karlach maybe she should be doing the same. Giving Astarion a wide berth. Had she not learned her lesson from trusting the last man who tried to quietly 'watch' over the Gate? Gods she really should just leave... Yet she wanted so desperately to stay. "I doubt it, unless she's shifted into something more sneaky - these things don't seem like her style." Karlach shrugged, still smiling. She'd find Jaheira soon enough...see what she had to say about everything. If Astarion's tales were true.

Yet here he was, smiling so genuinely up at her. She could be falling for one of his many tricks for all she knew. She truly had learned nothing. "You know what," Karlach took her hand from his shoulder and wagged a finger at him slightly. "I'll take you up on that. I've been in inns at the moment. They wouldn't take my coin once they learned who I am, and it's been decent, but I think I deserve some luxury after the shit I've been through." She grinned impishly. "See how you high flyers live for a bit."

Besides, perhaps keeping an eye on him up close was better than from afar.

[undercoveravenger]

Doting

Pairing: Astarion x Male!Reader

Requested: No

Summary: Astarion is a little overwhelming when you’re injured.

-----

In your experience, there is almost nothing better than a good fight - the thrum of adrenaline, the pounding of your heart, the sweet sting of overworked muscles. Truly, there is little better, but this? This is torture.

You’re used to injury, it comes with the territory of being a melee fighter, but you’re not accustomed to taking it easy and letting yourself be doted on the way Astarion demands that you be. 

He hadn’t seemed to care about your hesitance to settle down and allow yourself to heal when you started traveling together, but ever since the fight at Moonrise Towers he’s been much more… invested in your recovery. He’d been on you almost as soon as General Thorm’s body hit the ground, prying the blood-slicked handle of your axe from your fingers and shoving it at Karlach so he could start dragging you back up the passageways back toward camp, waving away Jaheira and her Harpers and anyone else that sought to speak to you. 

Once you’d made it to camp, he was quick to unbuckle your armor and cast it aside, helping you clean off the blood in the river nearby before dumping you in your bedroll and demanding that you stay there. He’s been hovering since you got back, checking in near-constantly and always offering to bring things to you when you’re more than capable of fetching things yourself. You’d been the one to land the killing blow on the avatar of Myrkul, and now you’re barely allowed to lift your own canteen when you want a drink!

Even now, as you silently slip from your bedroll and move to take up your greataxe, you can hear him digging through the camp chest and muttering about the lack of medical supplies. He’ll be peeved when he figures out that you’ve snuck out, but you know you’ll be more helpful using your strength to clear what’s left of the battlefield than lying here counting the holes in your tent. Your fingers close around the haft of your axe and lift and there’s a flash of pain as the movement puts too much strain on your injured ribs. The stitches give as your skin tears and the wound pulses as it begins bleeding sluggishly again.

“Shit,” you hiss under your breath, free hand coming up to press over your wound like that’ll stop him from knowing.

Already you can hear the chest snap shut outside and swift footsteps approaching your tent. 

“I know I haven’t done anything to draw blood,” Astarion pushes aside the door flap, unimpressed crimson eyes fixing on you almost immediately. “So care to tell me why you’re bleeding again?” He raises an eyebrow at you and nods pointedly back at your bedroll. A sigh escapes you but you relent, placing your axe back in its place against the tent support and moving to sprawl back out on your bedroll at Astarion’s feet.

He settles silently at your side, unraveling your bandages until he can get at the pulled stitches. He uses the sharp tip of one of his daggers to slice through the damaged thread and carefully removes the remnants from your flesh before setting about threading up a curved needle so he can replace the stitches you’d pulled.

“I don’t understand,” Astarion says softly, voice hardly above a whisper, “why you won’t just let yourself heal.”

Your breath catches as the needle pierces your skin for the first stitch. “Because I’m fine and my time would be better spent helping out there.” You tip your head back to look at him but he won’t meet your eyes. “It’s just one little stab wound - it’s not like this would kill me.”

His lips twist into a sharp frown and his eyes flash up to meet yours. You’re more than a little surprised by the anger you see in them. “It could have. Any number of things in that dreadful place could have and then you’d be gone and I’d be alone again and I can’t be alone again!”

You’re stunned, baffled, by his outrage. Sure, you’d warmed each other’s bedrolls before and he’d told you something of his past, but he’d never led you to believe he cared this much. His chest heaves with the weight of his admission and his eyes are bright, like he’s on the verge of tears, but you knew he’d rather die than shed a tear over the likes of you.

“Astarion,” you say and the sound of your voice seems to snap him back to the present. You take his hand in yours and guide it up to press over your heart so he can feel its steady beating under his palm. “I am fine. Really, I’m alright. I am not going anywhere.”

He nods, opens his mouth like he’s going to say something and then thinks better of it. He nods again, and turns back to your stitches. He finishes them deftly, and then settles down at your side as soon as your bandages are tied back in place, lying next to you with his head on your shoulder and his hand firmly against your heart.

“Once Shadowheart or Halsin get back, we’ll have them heal you,” he says quietly, “but until then, let me stay? Just-” Astarion’s voice breaks off slightly and you’re not quite sure where the two of you stand anymore, whether this has pushed you past your playful bullying and comfortable acquaintanceship and into new territory or if you’re expected to just keep on as you always had. “Just let me make sure you’re alright until then.”

You’re still antsy, still itching to go back to Moonrise and help with the wounded, to help clear the wreckage, but Astarion is warm where he is curled close to your side and the weight of him is soothing enough that you’re content to stay where you are for the time being. Slowly Astarion’s breath starts to even out and you find sleep beginning to creep up on you as well.

You know that you’ll have to talk to him about what this means for the two of you when you wake, but for now, at least, you don’t mind his doting.

[tavyliasin]

WizKids BG3 MiniFigure Quality

I posted this on a Bsky thread but figured Tumblr people may want to take a look too - there is a vast difference in the quality shown in the advertisements and main page for both the Icons of the Realm D&D minifigures set and the actual product images. The product images are also now on the shop page, and/or in the video review that is displayed on the shop page.

All product images shown here are available either in the images or videos on the shop page. The images and characters belong to the rights holders and are used here to illustrate the review and critique of the products. I do not work for WizKids, WotC, or any affiliated or rival companies. The following is personal opinion.

This is the official advert as seen on Facebook

And THIS is the actual product

More below the cut including other character images~

Ok so looking at just the Astarion image and actual model there, the promo image is really sharp, well painted, highly detailed. It looks to me like a high quality 3D print, but could also be a digitally created or edited image. The product image is very different. The jacket and lower legs are a different colour to each other and neither match the promo image. All detail in the hair is lost. There's very little face detail. The paint in general looks cheap and applied too thickly. Every part looks thicker.

I do not know for certain but if I were to guess, I'd say the actual product is a mass produced mould and pour in a cheaper plastic, not 3D printed. Which would be fine if they were advertising the product with the actual models, but they're showing a version that is vastly different.

Let's take a look at some more, shall we?

Wyll (Phyll) barely has any distinguishable facial features at all, and his horns appear to be uneven. Karlach's (Carlocked's) horns are barely visible from the black lump of her hair, and her axe is visibly warped and bent in the middle. Lae'zel (La'zzle) is stood in a battle stance and whilst some effort seems to have been put in to the markings on her skin and face, the same can't be said for her armour and her hands and hair look like blobs of plastic. Astarion (Astarion't) has the colour issues, and his hair completely lacks most of his classic texture, and most of his colours are inaccurate. Similarly Shadowheart (Shorterhurt) has barely any recognisable facial features and the paint on the hand holding her spear looks chipped even though this is supposedly the promotional photo. Gale's (Goyle's) staff is warped and lacks any defined shape to the blobs at each end, and generally is about as vaguely barely recognisable as the rest. Withers (WitheredAway) has some attention to detail but suffers all the same problems as the rest, undefined, not at all like the promised quality in the advert, and everything is just more blob-like than it should be even on a small scale miniature.

Here they are in their box! And the best box they could get to photograph shows Gale's staff bent at a significant angle. Now I'm not here to judge a wizard by the bend in his staff, but this isn't what's advertised even on the back of the box!

Come on, Gale, that's just sad...

You may notice that the back of the box advertises a line of blind booster boxes! Each of those comes with one Large size figure and 3 Small or Medium figure. Would you like to see the differences between the advertised images on the page and the products shown in the video on that same page?

I know the top image from the video does suffer from the lower resolution, but that drop in quality has nothing to do with the camera/screen. The hair lacks any texture, the mouth no longer has a defined tongue and teeth it's just a blob, the chainmail is far less detailed, all the points on the mace and armour are far less sharp and defined.

The skin colour has changed in this one, despite the red in the armour staying the same. The details have dropped right off, and the face and hair look like a completely different character.

I apologise for the crop in this one but still we have gone from Lump the Enlightened to Lumpier the NotEnlightenedActually - his skin is now green, lacks the fine detail of hair and wrinkles, even misses the skin tone variation and shading from the original. The face is far less defined, you can see clearly that the rope belt has gone from high detail to much more blob-like.

I'm not going to go through all of them, but there are precious few that look like a quality level I would consider to be worth the price point.

You can see the products here:

And here:

The product videos that the screenshots come from are on those pages too in the description part of the product.

Final notes:

This is all just my opinion, but I feel like the advertised images are not representative of the product that will be delivered. If you have preordered already and you feel like you no longer want to have these items, you can apply for a refund before the items are shipped - the standard shop email will tell you that it may take 2 working days (Mon-Fri) to get a response.

If you still like these items and want to order them, I'm genuinely happy for you and hope you enjoy them - there isn't enough official merch for us especially for certain characters.

In my opinion, however, these should be advertised only with the actual products and not the fancy looking prototypes.

And for those feeling disappointed, maybe a meme will help a little? (I don't usually like this template/theme at all but honestly this might be the one time it actually fits)

[dreammakcr]

She never thought that she would team up with another — let alone a group of people with a common cause. A lesson she had learned very quickly was not to trust anyone, yet here she was putting her life in the hands of others. Karlach had her reservations but she didn't see another choice in the matter. Whatever it took to stop them all from becoming mind flayers. "I'd like to see you try," she teased him with a chuckle, though it died in her throat when he asked about her. "Not much to tell. Betrayed by someone I trusted and sold off to be a soldier. I'll spare you all the gory details." She shrugged. "Seems like we've all got tragic backstories."

That was...understandable. He couldn't really argue with that logic. Although Astarion wasn't quite sure about his companions yet, keeping one eye opened and all, he wanted the same in return. To be assured safety and protection. And he would do anything to have it while staying out of his master's grasp. With his hand to his undead heart, the vampire spawn gives a smile. "You can trust me, darling. If it helps, I'll even keep watch for you. And I don't bite...unless asked." Not that he could bite her anyway if he wanted to with how hot she ran. "Enough about me. Tell me about you."

[rahuratna]

Synopsis: You come into some unexpected gold, and decide to treat your companions to a shopping spree. When it comes to this merry band of travelers, however, nothing ever goes smoothly ...

[Astarion x Tav/Reader]

Genres: Romance, humour, fluff, angst.

Warnings: Dirty jokes, Lae'zel's hatred of cardigans.

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics

Taglist: @roguishcat @obsessedwhyyes @fantasyheroine

(If anyone else would like to be added to my BG3 taglist, please drop me a message or let me know in the comments!)

"Listen, all of you. I've got the perfect thing planned."

Watching their expressions with the air of a circus conjurer, you drew a small leather bag from your jerkin. As you shook it, the contents emitted the pleasant chime and clink of something valuable. 

Wyll grinned, one finger tapping his chin.

"If I'm not mistaken, you got lucky with a hunter's stash."

Eyes closed and brow furrowed in concentration as he listened to the sounds from within the bag, Astarion nodded sharply.

"You're not mistaken at all Wyll. My darling has found ... let me see ... two diamonds, one jacinth shard, unpolished ... and a tourmaline ring."

A profound silence reigned after this statement. You snorted in amusement and Gale raised an eyebrow.

"Well. A rogue always has his uses, it seems."

You gave Astarion a bow, which he returned, his wrist circling in a mocking flourish.

"Correct, Astarion. And, since I found this little treasure, I've decided what we're going to do with it."

Lae'zel folded her arms.

"One can never have enough weapons."

Karlach groaned.

"Oh, come off. We've done nothing but arm ourselves to the teeth since the beginning. Let's do something else!"

You nodded, a small smile curving your mouth.

"I'm actually with Karlach on this one. Listen, protecting ourselves is important, and an absolute necessity. But we've picked up some good gear on the way here and it's about time we looked after our morale too."

Shadowheart raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"All right, I hear you. What do you have in mind?"

You clapped your hands together and beamed around.

"Clothes shopping. I mean, look at us. Most of what we're wearing is holding on by a thread and prayer and we've never prioritized that on the road here. Plus, there're all the recent battles we've been through, both in the city and out of it. Let's get ourselves a few outfits. Have a bath in a proper tub. Have a nice meal. No harm in that, is there?"

You heard cheers and murmurs of assent all round and nodded in satisfaction. Only Lae'zel still seemed put out by the need for what she termed 'frivolous nonsense'. Wyll patted her shoulder placatingly.

"You'll see what we mean soon enough, Lae'zel. Just join us. You won't regret it. Think of it as ... learning yet another Faerûnian custom."

Once your party had reached the city, you decided to split into groups in order to peruse the variety of clothing stores and boutiques on offer. You set upon the Elfsong Tavern as the place to meet after your shopping had been completed.

Your group consisted of Astarion, Lae'zel and Gale, while Wyll set off in the opposite direction with Shadowheart and Karlach.

Astarion took it upon himself to guide you, considering his familiarity with the surrounds.

"Oh, there's much less variety than what's on offer in the Upper City, darling, but there are a few good spots that not many people know about. There are merchants that import fine fabrics, and not everyone is aware of this, but they also employ skilled tailors who will make you a custom fit on request."

Gale looked impressed.

"You certainly know a lot about this, Astarion."

His compliment was waved off airily.

"Of course. I do know a thing or two about fashion."

You examined Astarion carefully as he said the words. There was something more here, some bitter undercurrent to the way he spoke. You knew him well enough by now to recognise when he was hiding an emotion dredged up by unpleasant memories.

You decided not to question him on it immediately. There was a time and place for everything.

Lae'zel was still looking decidedly unenthusiastic. As you meandered through the streets, she clicked her tongue and suddenly entered a shop on the left.

You paused before shrugging and entering behind her. It was a clothing store after all, one of the kind that sold rougher cuts for hard travel and the road.

Wandering amongst the wares on display in wicker baskets, you recognised a lot of familiar items, the colours perfect for camouflage, the homespun fabrics, the sturdy boots. Astarion turned his nose up at the selection, but this didn't deter Lae'zel.

She walked through the store in a straight line, picking up a shirt, trousers, underwear and boots and returned to you, a satisfied expression on her face.

"See? Shopping doesn't have to be an affair for the day. I've already picked out what I need. Now you do the same and we can go and find something far more worthy to spend our money on."

You shot a pleading glance at Gale and Astarion, both of whom rose admirably to the occasion.

Astarion came forward slowly, eyeing the clothes in Lae'zel's hand with a critical eye.

"Hmm. Hmm. I suppose ... no. Not at all. Not really. How ... disappointing."

"What do you mean?" she snapped, "What's disappointing?"

He bit his lip, shaking his head.

"It's just ... during all of our travels together, I actually have come to admire the kind of warrior you are, Lae'zel. You're certainly the fiercest I've known, and that's saying something. So ... and it pains me to say this, but ... this choice just isn't ... you."

Gale nodded in agreement, raising one finger as he explained himself.

"To put it in plain terms, a powerful githyanki like yourself should be dressed in colours and fabrics that exude ... intimidation. Power. Flair. These ... dusty road clothes don't quite cut it."

You glanced over at Lae'zel whose brow was now furrowed deeply, considering the items she'd chosen. She set them down and folded her arms.

"And I suppose you lot know what would suit a warrior like me?"

In spite of her challenging tone, you let out a breath of relief. This was Lae'zel's manner of giving in, somewhat, her way of showing her trust in the knowledge and abilities of her companions.

Astarion perked up and grinned.

"Oh trust me on this, Lae'zel. By the end of today, you'll be looking truly fearsome."

"Then lead on."

Across town, Wyll was facing a few challenges of his own. Shadowheart turned out to be exceptionally picky about what she spent her money on, and the higher the quality, the more her judgment of all of its minute flaws came to the fore.

Karlach, on the other hand, was so easily distracted by things other than clothing that they'd had to stay her hand away from her purse on more than one occasion when she saw a trinket or gadget that caught her eye.

Mind racing, Wyll finally hit upon a solution to the issue at hand, deciding to visit a store he knew of that catered to both their needs.

There was a certain company he knew that stocked both exclusive items for theatre actors, jewellry, props and hand-carved items of all kinds. He led them to the front door of the establishment and shot the two ladies a smile.

"So, this is a place I've known about for a while. Came here with my father a few times when we had costume parties and he wanted me to wear something unique."

When they entered, Karlach looked around in delight.

"Oh, Wyll! This is perfect! Look at all of these hats and horn ornaments! I can't believe how hard it is to find anything horn-related in this place."

Shadowheart, meanwhile, had hurried over to a selection of dark plum, cobalt and emerald-dyed dresses, eyeing them with ill-concealed longing. Wyll raised an eyebrow.

All Shadowheart's clothing choices thus far had been singularly streamlined and fitted to her form for ease in battle. He hadn't put her down for someone who preferred frills and flounces.

Clearing his throat, he approached and gestured to the dresses.

"Care to try them on? I'll ask the proprietor to - "

She backed off, hands raised almost defensively.

"Oh, no, not at all. I was just ... looking."

Wyll pulled one of the dresses, a deep violet silk, from the rack and held it up against her.

"Well now. That colour looks simply splendid on you, Shadowheart. We can't have you leaving here without trying it out."

Karlach bounded over, a red leather pointed hat sitting perfectly over her horns.

"Oooh, smashing! You've got to take that!"

Shadowheart's mouth opened and closed a few times as she uttered some faint protests, but was soon convinced to choose some dresses and make her way to the changing screens.

Wyll gestured to Karlach's outfit.

"And what'll it be for you, milady?"

She giggled and cleared her throat, adopting a coquettish pose. 

"Well, aren't you a right charmer? What do you recommend for my strapping frame, good saer?"

Wyll held up his hands excitedly.

"So, when I was young, there was this stage actor, Lady Zenith, who took the city by storm. She played a pirate queen and I saw some of her appearances. Just fantastic. A lot of costume stores still sell clothes inspired by some of her looks, and I'm sure this place does too. I think they'll suit you perfectly."

Karlach's eyes were now gleaming in anticipation.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Show me the goods, man!"

This time, you'd taken Astarion's reccomendation into account and followed him to a different store, closer to the Upper City, that specialised in outfits for adventurers and mercenaries who were looking to make an impression at events and parties.

Lae'zel now seemed far more invested, and you also grew excited as you saw the array of clothing that shouted of wealth earned the rough and violent way.

Embroidered jerkins, leather braces and belts, embossed hats and smart trousers adorned the shelves, along with dress swords and scabbards, ruffled blouses, trimmed boots and fur cloaks.

You tugged Lae'zel through the store, and you could practically see the appeal of this activity open up in golden avenues before her eyes as you held up dashing outfits in blood red, dark green and black against her.

You handed her a few items to try on before finding a jewel-toned blouse, comfortable padded trousers and boots for yourself. Finally detaching yourself from the siren's call of colours and fabrics, you noticed that Gale was no longer in the store.

"Where'd he go?"

Astarion gestured vaguely somewhere in the region of the shop across the street.

"Said he saw something he liked over there."

Crimson eyes were flicking perceptively over your clothing choices. Hesitantly, you held them up for his inspection.

"Do they look nice?"

"They look wonderful, darling. Hold on."

He reached over your shoulder, thoroughly distracting you with the way his breath fanned across your collarbones and plucked something from a shelf above your head. He held it against the blouse you had chosen and you spied a delicate broach in gold filigree, a starling with a garnet eye.

"Oh, that's beautiful!" you breathed.

You made to take it from him, but he flipped the piece quickly out of your reach.

"No, sweetheart. This is my gift to you. I've been ... saving up a little too."

Something about those words tightened your throat, the bruised sweetness of a summer fruit, painful as it was poignant.

When you'd first met him, it had been obvious that Astarion had very little to his name. His clothes, in spite of their former grandeur, had been darned and repaired many times over, their gold threadwork faded. His belongings were all mismatched remnants of a time of wealth.

He had scrounged every ounce of gold he'd found in the field, and in battle, hoarding it with almost obsessive desire, the kind that comes from knowing the state of being truly destitute.

And to think that this same man was now offering up his gold to buy you something as frivolous as a piece of jewelry. You knew better than to turn him down. You'd wear his gift, and treasure it well.

You couldn't help notice, however, that Astarion had not picked out any outfits for himself.

"Arent you going to get anything?"

His gaze slid away from yours, traveling around the store as he spoke.

"Oh, I'm holding out for now. I want to find something I really like before committing. You know how it is."

Expression growing hard, you tugged at his sleeve, gaining his attention.

"Listen here, handsome. I didn't get my hands on those diamonds to dress you up in drow armour all over again."

His eyes widened slightly at your tone, fangs sliding into view as he smiled.

"Oh my. Are you annoyed with me, dearest?"

"No, but I will be if you don't pick something. And I don't care if you find something better elsewhere. I'll buy that for you too. And I'll buy anything else that takes your fancy."

"Gods below, it's so enticing when you shower me with adoration like this - "

"Astarion."

He uttered a small laugh, a genuine sound that caused an alarming flutter of uncontrollable tenderness in your chest.

"Well, if you insist. But you've got to help me pick them out. I can't see my own reflection after all."

You cocked your head.

"Is that why you didn't want to choose anything?"

He traced a finger over the laquered wood of the shelving before answering.

"Not quite. You see, when we served under Cazador, he made us dress according to ... his specifications. We could wear nice things, but they were all chosen by him. Owned by him. We had to return them immediately after use. It's ... not easy for me to accept such gifts."

"Oh ... I didn't realise. I'm - "

"Don't apologise."

His tone was sharp, only softened by the warmth of his glance.

"I know you. I know why you're gifting me things. It's the same way I gift you this broach. We do it ... as equals. Partners. Lovers. Nothing more, or less. We do it because we want to."

Wordlessly, you took his hand, bringing his fingers to your lips and holding them there. Astarion tugged your hand towards him, placing a soft reciprocal kiss on your own knuckles.

"Now, are you going to help me choose or not?"

He released you and sauntered away, shooting you his trademark smirk over one shoulder.

"And don't even think about sneaking a look behind the screens while I get changed."

"Wouldn't dream of it. And you're going to lace yourself into those fancy shirts, I suppose?"

"Never fear, darling. I'll be crying out for you just the way you like."

"Shadowheart? Are you all right in there?"

"What? Oh, I'm ... fine."

Karlach and Wyll exchanged glances. Adjusting the red leather hat over her horns (which she seemed rather loathe to part with) Karlach cleared her throat.

"Come on. We want to see you in the dress."

"It's all right. I've tried them all on. I think I ... "

"Shadowheart, I hate to insist, but we really want to see you in those dresses. We can't leave here with nothing."

Wyll's polite, but firm tone seemed to do the trick. The screen parted slightly before Shadowheart took a large stride out, almost tripping over her skirts.

She looked like a goddess descended from a more radiant plane than earth, that was for sure. The gown she wore composed a supple bodice, flowing skirts, fan-like sleeves and a brocade collar, turquoise shot through with pale green embroidery.

Karlach gasped and clapped, while Wyll spread his hands effusively.

"Stunning!"

"Oh hells! Why on earth were you hiding back there?"

Shadowheart's posture had been so stiff, it looked like she was practicing military drills, but under their positive response, she relaxed somewhat. 

"Um. To tell you the truth ... I've always ... been partial to gowns like these, but I think ... I'd been told that they didn't belong on me. On someone like me, I think."

Wyll disappeared briefly behind the screens and re-emerged with the other gowns in hand.

"Well, I think these are well spotted. They'll all look marvelous."

Shadowheart eyed him skeptically.

"That's all well and good, but what about you, Wyll? I haven't seen you try anything on yourself."

Karlach nodded eagerly.

"Oh, go on. You're a fancy man, I reckon. Could do with some ruffles and tight pants."

Wyll snorted.

"I think you've got me mistaken for Astarion."

"Your arse is better."

"Karlach ... never let him hear you say that. And I mean never."

"Lae'zel, I never expected you to be so insightful regarding colour combinations."

"I'm good at most things. This should come as no surprise."

Astarion snapped his fingers.

"Ah, there she is. The Lae'zel we know and love."

Tucking away your own wrapped purchases into your rucksack, you frowned as you glanced out the door.

"We need to find Gale. Where on earth has he wandered off to?"

You followed Lae'zel and Astarion out into the street, examining the shopfronts for any sign of the stray wizard. A little further down the street, Lae'zel stopped so abruptly that you walked nose-first into the hilt of her sword.

"Ouch! What are you - "

"Be silent," she hissed.

Instantly, you were on the alert, hand snaking toward your weapon.

"What is it? Vlaakith's troops?"

"No. Worse."

Astarion drifted closer to your side, eyes scanning the street like a bird of prey.

"Don't keep us in suspense."

"It's Gale. Wearing some kind of ... monstrosity."

Hissing out a sharp breath, you shot her a glare.

"Why on earth would you make me panic like - "

"Shut up and look. It's ... truly horrifying."

Astarion had apparently forgotten his nerves in a second and gleefully sprang up on a low wall behind Lae'zel to get a better look across the crowded street, almost hanging piggyback off her.

"What is it? What could our dearest Gale be up to? Could it be - "

Gale chose that moment to exit the shop he had made his purchase at, a singularly self-satisfied expression on his face. As for what he was wearing ...

You hurriedly schooled your face into warm surprise when he saw you and waved, approaching eagerly.

"Oh, you'll never guess what I found. This used to be all the rage at Waterdeep when I was a lad, especially amongst the scholars."

Astarion deflated, arms draping limply across Lae'zel's shoulders.

"Gods below, don't get my hopes up like that. I thought he was cross-dressing for a minute."

It was a testament to how transfixed the githyanki was by Gale's outfit that she didn't attempt to dislodge Astarion from his perch.

"Gale. What is ... that you have on?"

The item in question resembled a robe, one much shorter that ended just below the waist. It was made from some kind of fluffy material, the colours pleasant enough, but strange to look at. Buttons came all the way up the front and it was clearly made for cooler weather.

Gale gestured to the garment proudly.

"Oh, this is a cardigan. Never see one before, I take it?"

"It's horrid," she blurted out, ignoring the way your eyes bulged and the fact that Astarion had now clapped a hand over his mouth.

Gale, fortunately, had developed something of a thick skin where Lae'zel was concerned. He waved her disgusted look away.

"Oh, come on. Give it a chance. If a whole city once thought it looked good then - "

"That city deserves to be razed to the ground."

He grimaced and turned to you.

"And your verdict?"

You shook your head hurriedly.

"Oh, I don't share her opinion. It looks comfortable and simple. Perfect for a ... wizard."

Astarion cleared his throat and you groaned internally.

"Oh, absolutely, darling. I just ... hope he never wore that around Mystra, because quite frankly, that would explain so much - "

Whirling on your heel you made a cutting motion with your hand. He was presenting an unusually united front with Lae'zel in their hatred of the cardigan.

"What is wrong with you both? He looks ... normal."

Gale sighed and folded his arms. He was getting that stubborn look on his face, the one that probably made the Weave quiver and entertain thoughts along the line of "Here we go again."

"Well, my apologies for offending your senses, but I will be wearing this every day from now on, considering how cold the weather's getting."

Lae'zel grunted as if struck with an arrow.

"You wouldn't."

"Oh, I would."

"I'll destroy it."

"You could try."

Raising your hands, you stepped between them.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, you lot. Gale, you're perfectly entitled to wear whatever you want - "

"I would certainly think so!"

"And Lae'zel, whatever your reservations, let's try to be civil, yes?"

She folded her arms and looked to be deeply in thought for a minute. Head snapping up, she approached Gale who regarded her warily.

"Wizard. I can't change your mind regarding this ... regrettable choice, but would you humour me on one thing?"

"And what's that?"

"Undo the buttons. It looks ... odd. Like a human in a sausage casing."

"She's right, Gale," chimed in Astarion, "The Weave works so much better when you show it some chest hair."

Gale raised an eyebrow.

"Probably why it never works for you then."

"Ooh, I love it when you get nasty."

The Elfsong Tavern was packed to the brim, the heat of many bodies, the sweet thrum of a lyre and the chatter of a myriad voices spilling into the dark streets. Your party had trekked their way upstairs to the refuge of your private quarters, leaving the door open in a mild concession to socialising.

The occasional patron would sway up the stairs and drink a toast to your good company.

To round off a day well-spent on treating yourselves, you'd ordered up some of the taverns finest ales, wines and dishes, laid out on a long table in the central area. Your companions took some time to bathe and dress themselves in their new finery before meandering over to the small feast.

Wyll looked sleek and elegant in a mahogany and gold coat, dark trousers and embroidered shoes. He lounged on the sofa beside Gale, who stubbornly persisted on donning his cardigan over a comfortable pair of woollen pants.

Studiously avoiding Gale, Lae'zel stood at the head of the table, a roast leg of lamb in one hand, her resplendent green doublet slashed through with blood red, providing an intimidating, if reassuring familiarity.

Karlach was currently downstairs, ordering more drinks from the bar, so you made your way over to Shadowheart and Astarion who were standing together by the hearth. You caught the tail end of their conversation.

"Purple looks a bit ripe on you, darling. Sort of like a plum that's been left in the dark for too long."

"Hmm. I suppose you think that white looks dashing on you. All it does it highlight your pallor."

"I am a vampire. I have to cultivate a certain otherworldly appeal. You on the other hand ... were you going for pauper princess banished from the kingdom?"

"More like assassin princess. A romantic image, you know? I have to wonder at those red highlights on your coat, though. What was the intention there? That you'd dribbled your dinner all over yourself?"

Attempting to hide the way your mouth twitched, you gestured to their clothes.

"I think you both look lovely."

"Oh, my sweet, how kind of you to say that about Shadowheart."

"Indeed. Astarion seems to think he has monopoly over good looks. It's nice to hear him corrected on that front."

Even as she spoke, she reached across and impatiently brushed away a thread from his coat.

"Gods, that was irritating. Now that's better."

Astarion regarded her sourly before clicking his tongue.

"Hold on. Your eyeliner is slightly smudged."

You took a sip of your wine, grinning to yourself as he fussed a little, correcting the stray mark beside her eye.

"There." He gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Can't quite compete with me, but I suppose pale hair does look good on you."

"Likewise," she sniffed, before shooting you a smile and wandering off to find Karlach.

You finally let out the small laugh you'd been holding prisoner.

"Good to see you two getting along."

He huffed and made a show of adjusting his cuffs.

"I don't know what you're talking about, my sweet. What's that, in your goblet? A quality vintage, I hope?"

You allowed him to pilfer it out of your hand, eyes traveling across to where Lae'zel had now joined Wyll and Gale, stiffly complimenting them on their clothes.

"I think we needed this. A chance to unwind a little. Spoil ourselves."

Astarion drifted closer, fingers grazing the broach you now wore at your collar in place of honour.

"Indeed. You always seem to know ... exactly what we require. Even when we don't know it ourselves."

You turned and met his gaze, noting how the lightness of his tone betrayed the depth of feeling that was reflected there, just beneath the surface.

Regarding him with a tender smile, you extended a hand as the bard downstairs struck up a merry tune.

"Shall we dance?"

He sank into a gallant bow, fangs glinting in the dim light, and took up your offer, arm curling intimately around your waist as he pulled you close.

"Let's show them how it's done."

As you swept across the floor, swaying and dipping with Astarion's light guidance, you saw Wyll leap up and clap his hands, immediately inviting Lae'zel to dance with him.

She scowled and folded her arms, but Gale was always one step ahead.

"Oh, go on, Lae'zel. Weren't you the one who told us you could do just about anything?"

He stood and approached her.

"Of course, you could always dance with me instead. Get a firsthand feel of how soft and fleecy this cardigan is - "

She took a step back, an impressive feat on Gale's part.

"Fine! I'll partake of a ... turn with Wyll. Just this once."

Your dance was brought to an abrupt end when Karlach set the drinks down at the table with a resounding thump and cackled gleefully, wrapping her arms around you, hoisting until you and Astarion were both airborne on either side of her.

"Oh, you two precious things! Thanks for the treat, soldier. Just look at my hat!"

Astarion eyed the red leather dubiously.

"Looks like something right out of a sex dungeon."

"Even better!"

Breathless with laughter as Karlach whirled you around, singing loudly, you tipped the brim of her hat down and placed a kiss on Astarion's cheek, watching the softness build in his eyes, the burnished beauty of the firelight on his gleaming hair.

Seeing them all like this, these companions who'd wormed their way into your heart faster than any mindflayer tadpole, was well worth the battles that had brought you to this point.

You'd see this through, banishing the shadows from their lives one by one until light and merriment pervaded every living moment together.

And damn it all if you didn't look fabulous doing so.

[whatusername00]

Which Baldur's Gate Characters Know How To Lace Up Their Clothing - Camp Edition

I got this idea because I noticed Gortash's shirt isn't laced properly, and then noticed Astarion's shirt isn't laced properly, so now I need to look at as many characters as I can because I can't stop noticing. And I'm about to spend too much time on this for it to stay in my brain. Starting with all characters who appear at camp (main party + others.)

Shadowheart, Lae'zel, Gale, Withers, Aylin, Mizora, Duke Ravenguard, Emmaline, and Arnell don't have lacing on their camp outfits.

Starting with the default clothes for Tav. Yes, they know how to lace their shirt. Good job. This particular Tav is Durge, so it's good to know he didn't forget how when his brain got Swiss'd. However, it's not perfectly consistent because on the bottom 2 sets of eyelets he threads from the outside, but the third set he threads from the inside. Though this is probably intentional so the lacing doesn't hang on the inside of his shirt, so 9/10.

Astarion, baby boy, you were so close. But unfortunately there are two pairs of eyelets where he threads one side from the outside and one from the inside. For someone who wants to appear so put together, you think he could take the two extra braincells to lace his shirt consistently. 7/10.

Threaded consistently the whole way through...with one side. Why didn't you finish lacing your shirt? Why even lace one side if you weren't going to lace the other? Why isn't the lacing that you didn't finish shorter than the one that you did finish? All questions I can't answer because I cannot ask. 7/10 at least it's consistent.

I couldn't get a good in game screenshot of Karlach since her lacing is on her pants, but I found a texture rip so I can work with it. So the lacing here is the same all the way through, super consistent, *mwah*, but...it's sneakily unnecessarily complicated. Typically, the lacing that laces from the inside to outside would sit on top, but it's not that way on her pants. She pulls the lacing through the eyelet, then threads it under the other part of the cross, then threads it through the top of the next eyelet. And with as much lacing as her pants have, this must have taken forever for no extra benefit. It would have been easier to let it sit on top. 8/10 its pretty though.

Halsin. Beautiful. Gorgeous. I choose to believe the knots are hidden on the inside. No other notes. 10/10.

I've never actually recruited Minthara so I took a picture from the BG3 wiki. Just like Halsin, beautiful. Again, I choose to believe the ends are hidden on the inside. 10/10.

Jaheira's pants lace the same way Halsin's shirt does: perfectly. Though if the knot is hidden on the inside, I feel like that would be more uncomfortable, so I'm gonna headcannon that it ties at her waist under her shirt. Other than that, 10/10.

Minsc's shirt uses the same model as Wyll's so everything I said there applies here, though I feel like it makes more sense for Minsc. My real gripe here is that Minsc is a liar. Talking 'bout some thrice laced pants, but I didn't see any lacing on those pants. How dare he trick me in this way. 6/10 I don't like being lied to.

Yenna's mom may be dead, but she made sure her baby knew how to lace her shirt before she did. She may have gotten kidnapped by Orin, but she looked put together while doing it. Perfect 10/10. She deserves it after what she went through.

After being dead for 100 years, Isobel didn't forget how to lace her armor. Gotta be put together to see her girlfriend again. 10/10 Isobel can do no wrong.

Volo...I don't know what you've done to the front of your pants but it doesn't look good. Some of those crosses are missing. It looks sloppy. What is this. This is something I would do as a joke to see if anyone noticed. Well I noticed and I hate it. 2/10 it keeps your pants closed I guess.

That's it for the camp. I'll link other sets of characters below as I do them.

Tieflings

[faerunscursed]

Slowly orange pupils revealed themselves as Karlach regained consciousness. Her body was still stuck in the pod she had been in before the crash, though the screen was cracked. So, using brute force, Karlach smashed into the crack repeatedly until it budged. "About fucking time." Karlach muttered as she climbed out of the pod and dusted herself off. Now she just needed to get the hell out of there before she was found.

Karlach made her way as far away from the wreckage as possible as she let out a hiss of pain. She was hurt, a wound that had carried over during his escape from Avernus and onto the nautiloid. No matter, she would patch it up eventually. The tiefling continued forward until she spotted someone in her way, an elf by the looks of it. Judging by his looks her certainly wasn't from around here either. In fact he looked like he was dressed no different than Lord Gortash.

"Hey who the fuck are you?" Karlach called out was she stopped a few feet away from him, ready to reach for her axe. She recognized him somewhat, swore she had seen someone with a face like that aboard the ship. The same ship that gave her as many problems as she left with. Fuck she shouldn't have gotten on that ship. "You were on the ship, weren't you? The fuck did you do to me?"

Even now she could feel whatever they'd put in her head squirming around. Just like some goddamn leech seeking nourishment it wouldn't find. Still, she felt different, like there was more to what was going on. If this man was on the ship, then he had something to do with it. There was no doubt in her mind about that. It didn't matter that he didn't look like whatever the hell those tentacle guys were. Moreover, what if he was working with Zariel?

"Answer me pretty boy before I make a decoration of your innards." Karlach glared at the man as she got in his face, though keeping enough distance so that they weren't touching. Her temper now was so easy to flare. Oh how easy it was to enrage her, for the fire of the engine to consume her if she wasn't careful. @alittlebitofmuse

[senualothbrok]

Mortal pleasures

Summary: Gale has shown you how gods bond in the astral. Now, you show him how good mortal pleasures can be.

Word count: 2.1k

AO3 link

Disclaimers: NSFW. 18+. Smut. Gale x female Tav/reader.

More disclaimers: Oral sex (blow job). Vaginal fingering.

A/N: This fic is long overdue, because I am a Gale-deserves-a-blow-job truther. Dedicated to @practicallydeadinside-blog who I love more than words can describe!

----------------------------------------------------

“And that’s how I got this baby.” Karlach smacks the scar on her right thigh with a grin. 

You nod absently. You can barely make out the jests that roar around your companions, their faces illuminated only by the campfire you huddle around on this spring night. Your focus is on him alone.

Gale’s gaze is sharp and hot, his lips curled in a sideways smile. He tilts his head ever so slightly. You do not move your eyes from him. It does not escape you, the dart of his tongue through the briefest parting of his mouth. You bite your lip.

Astarion coughs, slapping his knees as he rises. “And with that revolting tale, I think it’s time for us all to clear off.” 

“What?” Karlach whines. “Already? Boooo…”

“Take a hint, darling,” Astarion drawls. “I’ve had enough of whatever this is.” He makes a gesture of distaste towards you and Gale. 

You flush. Astarion chortles.

“Enjoy the magic, but please keep it down. We know how…verbose…the two of you can be.” 

You shrink at the winks, grumbles and jostling of the rest of your companions as they file away to their respective tents. It was wishful thinking to hope they were not aware of your time with Gale the night before, when your souls bonded in the astral. To think that they could not see how both of you had been transformed by the experience.

There is a chill in the air, but your core flames. There is no embarrassment in Gale’s eyes. Only the raw heat of desire.

“Alone at last,” he breathes.

Tonight, he is unusually quiet. He lets his actions speak. You barely make it to his tent. He wraps his arms around you from behind, unlacing the straps of your bodice with uncanny speed. Your struggle for breath as his deft fingers clutch at your breasts, your shoulders, your hips. You have been waiting all day for this moment. To be with him, to have him all to yourself. To give yourself to him again. 

You grind backwards against his thrumming body, aching for more of his touch. He clasps your chin to angle your neck back, as if he is starving to see your face. Your tongues glide against each other, frantic with hunger, a frenzy of moans. He tastes sweet and strong, like aged wine, and you cannot get enough. You can never have enough of him. 

“I didn’t lie,” you whisper when you break apart to breathe. “You’re a good kisser.”

He smiles against your lips before he plunges back in, lapping eagerly at your wet warmth. You are drunk from his musk, the sourness of sweat, the smoothness of sandalwood. You are not careful as you whip open his robe, shoving his sleeves down his arms, pushing them desperately down. You need to see him. You need to feel and smell and taste every inch of his quivering flesh. 

He lets out a little laugh, surprised, not displeased. Then, with one swift motion, he wrenches your breeches off your quaking legs. You gasp at the force of it, the smouldering in his eyes. His fingers dive behind your panties, already damp with desire. He almost rips them off.

“I want to show you more,” he pants. “Everything you could possibly imagine. Let me show you.”

A crackle of blue thread sizzles between his fingers. A spasm of bliss tears through you like lightning, sending you gasping for breath. You burn for more of it. But you steel yourself. 

Since your night together, you have not been able to get the idea out of your mind. You have been ravenous for it. And now is your chance.

You pull back.  

“No.”

Gale falters, the blue light of his magic fading into the purple of his glowing chest. You press against him again, licking at his bottom lip, gently sucking it into your mouth. He buckles against you.

“No?” 

You smile, teasing but resolute. 

“Yesterday, you showed me how to bond the way gods do.”

Your hand trails down his abdomen, following the hairs that meander from his navel to his groin. His breath hitches. He hangs on your every word, your every move. You are not a wizard or a sorcerer, but he is under your spell.

“Today, I want to show you how good mortal pleasures can be.”

His eyes flash. Before he can object, you push him downwards and back, so that he is reclined on his bed roll. Uncertainty blinks across his features as you pull his briefs down to expose the thrust of his cock. You clench your thighs as a string of moisture trickles from your folds.

He stares at you on your knees by his side. You lean forward, taking hold of his shaft, so thick and long in your small hands. Dark pink and purpling, veins drifting down to a wiry nest framed by the muscles of his lean thighs. You wet your lips. His cock pulses in your fingers, a bead spilling from its tip as he exhales sharply.  

“Gods,” he heaves.

You bend over. You are acutely aware of the way his body is suspended in the anticipation of pleasure. You can feel it vibrate, chasing after your touch. The tent is awash in his purple flame. You flare with yearning as you flick your tongue into his slit, gathering this first trace of his salty sweetness. He arches his back and groans.

“Has anyone ever done this to you?” 

Your tongue traces a slow, winding stripe down the underside of his cock. He trembles. You look up at him, mouth open, eyes wide and expectant.

He swallows. “A long time ago. Once, when I was very young. It was…quick. Clumsy. Messy.”

You suspected this might be the case. There was no way Mystra would have ever lowered herself to give Gale such a human gift, and you cannot imagine Gale asking any lover for such raw, unbridled ecstasy.  It makes you even more desperate. You want nothing more than to give this to him now.

“We’ll rectify that.”

You drag your tongue in a smooth circle at the base of his cock. He stifles a whine as his hips roll closer to your mouth. Gale’s longing is so palpable that it throbs wet and hot within you. But when you look up, he is frowning. He reaches towards you. 

“My love,” he huffs. “You really don’t need to-”

You anticipated this. Gale prides himself on giving, not receiving. He never asks, for fear of being turned away. He cannot fathom that anyone would get on their knees to show him their adoration. That anyone would ache to give him this most mortal of pleasures.

“I want to, Gale.” 

You take his straying hand and run your mouth over his palm. His eyelids flutter as your tongue flickers softly over the pads of his fingers. 

“I want to taste you. I want to show you how good this feels. Please let me show you.”

It is not completely selfless. You have been dreaming of doing this to Gale since you shared a moment in the Weave. You enjoy this act much more than he knows. He will find out just how much you enjoy it.

He grasps for a response and fails. For an instant, you savour the sight of Gale rendered speechless by your designs. Then you resume your position, your face tilted upwards beside his growing hardness. You can see him unravelling at the sight of it resting against your cheek, hovering beside the shining plumpness of your lips. His brown eyes are almost black, dilated in a stupor of need. 

“Or does this not feel good?”

He lets out a guttural moan as you slide his cock into your mouth. Your lips tighten around his girth as you roll your tongue around its head. You pump forward and backwards, once, twice, three times. With each stroke, waves of molten heat blaze through your centre, your clit swelling against your folds as you rock. Moisture trails down your chin as you draw back and look up at him.

“Do you like that?” 

The sound that escapes his lips is a muffled plea. His face is flushed, helpless, urgent. 

You grin. His back bows as you take him back inside you. You take your time, drawing out his pressure points, feeling for the rhythm of his pleasure. The slick sounds of you lapping and sucking at his cock fill the tent as you drive his length deeper and faster into you. Something about these wet, gulping noises makes you suddenly, overwhelmingly voracious.

“By the gods…”

You cannot decipher all the words that start tumbling from Gale now. You glide hungrily down to the hilt of his cock, thrusting it against the back of your mouth. Small bursts of his pleasure trickle down your throat like nectar as he shifts and sighs. Every blast of his yearning pools like lava in your belly. You whimper into his shaft, your hips grinding down into the bedroll, searching frantically for release.

As the storm surges within you, you realise that his groans are growing louder and closer together. You can feel him hardening, stretching your jaw with each tremor of your arousal. He fills you up so completely, there is almost no space for breath. You are famished, gorging yourself on him. 

You are abruptly aware of urgent fingers pressing between your thighs, demanding entrance. You sit up, turning to face him.

“Allow me,” he rasps.

You shake your head, trying to push his hand away. He does not budge.

“Please. Can you not tell what your pleasure does to me?” His gaze is ravenous. “Let me. Please.”

It was not your intention to allow it. You were to give and not receive. But you are powerless to resist as his fingers nestle into your gleaming folds. When he finds your throbbing clit, you crumple against him. His groin rises to meet you, his cock twitching at your undoing. You suck him back into your mouth with a needy cry.

You do not need a tadpole to know each other’s feelings now. You can taste the hardness of his desire, as he can feel the wetness of yours.

You shudder against each other as the world becomes a chaos of purple spasms. All you know is the whirling of your tongue around the head of his cock as he traces frenzied circles around the centre of your fire. A hot stream of slick melts between your thighs as he bucks against you. You can no longer distinguish between his moans and yours.

As his fingers flutter in their maddening dance, your mouth quickens to match his speed. You are aware of his muscles tightening as you grind against his hand, rubbing at every coiled nerve until it is ready to snap. Your whines are muffled vibrations against his skin. He lurches and keens as you lap and slide up and down his shaft with increasing fury, pushing you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy.

Then the ache within you explodes. 

The world shatters into blinding shockwaves of white heat. It is all you can do to keep your mouth wrapped tightly around his swelling cock, your only anchor as you drown in the searing surges of your pleasure. As you writhe through the aftershocks, you feel a convulsion down his chest, snapping through his hips, jolting at the back of your throat. 

He shouts out a strangled sound, his toes curling, his free hand clinging to the side of the bedroll. You quiver as the taste of Gale fills your mouth. You swallow each rush of his delight as he rides out the peak of his climax, his features twisting in the beautiful anguish of release.

You remain in that position as your breathing returns to normal. Slowly, your vision clears. His cock is still half hard and glistening as you part from it. You brush away drops of his spend from your lips and chin as you sit up, steadying yourself. 

He looks up at you from where he lies panting, his tousled waves a tumble around his head. His face is radiant with passion. His chiselled abdomen heaves with the exhaustion of bliss. The mark on his chest glows a muted violet.

“That was…”

He has no words for the experience. His gaze is bright with awe, gratitude, adoration. Swollen with love. It glints with desire, still pure and unquenched.  

You beam. “That’s how mortals do it.” 

He pulls you into his arms with a throaty laugh.

----------------

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[hellspawn-enjoyer]

Will You Stay With Me?

Hello! I come with more angsty hellspawn fics

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Rating: Teen and Up Pairing: Astarion/Karlach Word Count: 1.1K Content: Angst/Hurt Comfort, First Time, Soft Intimacy, Bittersweet Romance

The night air clung warm around them, thick with the low murmur of celebration still echoing down the streets of Baldur’s Gate. Laughter spilled like wine from open tavern doors, but up here, on the balcony where Karlach leaned her elbows on the stone ledge, it felt quieter. Quieter than it had in days.

Astarion stood behind her, hands idle at his sides. He should have been able to say something witty, something charming, something light enough to match the way her laughter had danced over dinner. But the moonlight caught the edge of her smile, and it looked a little too much like goodbye.

She turned to him with a look that said don’t make this a tragedy, and offered her hand.

They didn’t speak as they walked upstairs together.

The room was dim, golden with candlelight. The bed didn’t creak when she sat down, which felt like a miracle. So much of Karlach’s life had been noise—grinding metal, ticking death, the heavy clatter of survival. This silence was a kindness.

Astarion hovered in the doorway a moment too long.

"You don’t have to," she said, voice steady, soft. Always giving him the out, even now.

"I know." His voice cracked the quiet like glass underfoot. “I want to.”

This was their first time.

There had been a time, not long ago, when Astarion couldn’t bear to be touched. Not gently, not kindly. The idea of intimacy had felt like a wound that would never close. And Karlach—gods, she never flinched. She never asked for more than he could give. She sat beside him in silence when words failed. Made him laugh when the weight in his chest got too heavy. Let him be, without expectation.

They learned how to want something more together, in small ways. Shoulder to shoulder after battle. Her hand brushing his as they walked. Quiet talks by the fire that became the best part of the day. And slowly, the space between them shrank, not from pressure, but from trust.

So tonight, when she reached for him and he didn’t pull away—when he wanted to reach back—it felt like something sacred. A threshold crossed not just with courage, but with love.

This was their first time. And maybe their only time. And that made it all the more devastating.

They undressed each other with the kind of reverence usually reserved for funerals or worship. No rush. No hungry devouring. Just the slow unraveling of armor, of walls, of fear. Astarion's hands shook once—just once—as they hovered over the curve of her back, and she didn’t flinch when he pressed his mouth to the mark where the heat of her heart still lived.

They laid together like that for a long while—touching, not claiming. Lips brushing skin like promises they couldn’t keep. The ache wasn’t in their bodies—it lived behind their ribs, heavy and bright.

The bed was warm. Their breath slow. Limbs tangled.

He should’ve been the one to keep it light. Make some biting comment about the thread count or the squeaky floorboards. But her fingers were laced with his, and he could feel how tightly she held him—as if she could will the moment to last longer.

Astarion exhaled like he’d been holding it for two hundred years.

“You don’t have to go,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I—Karlach, I can’t—”

Her mouth pressed to his, silencing him not with passion, but mercy.

“I know,” she breathed, against his lips. “Me neither.”

It was not the kind of night they wrote songs about. No stars crashing, no vows shouted to the gods. Just hands that knew where to go. Lips that searched, found, lingered. They moved like they were trying to memorize each other. As if the body could hold memory more sacred than the mind ever could.

He learned her by the shape of her breath, by the quiet catch of it in her throat. By the way her metal heart hummed beneath his palms, a storm behind her ribs. And she learned him in return—the places where his skin stayed tense from old habits, the softness beneath the mask. The places he still feared to be touched.

The silence between them filled with things neither dared say aloud. Futures they had imagined in the quiet corners of long nights. That scrappy, mean little goat they always joked about adopting—more bark than bleat, with a bad attitude and a fondness for headbutting Astarion’s boots. Wandering roads unknown with only the stars for maps, chasing odd jobs and forgotten ruins, her laughter echoing off canyon walls. Him tending to his daggers, watching her across campfires, blood-stained hands and a look that said he’d never tire of the sight. A life where the world was wide, and they were always together in it.

It had felt so real once.

He pressed his forehead to hers, and the breath they shared fogged the space between them. Her hand rose to his cheek, thumb brushing the sharp line of his jaw.

“You know,” she said, her voice a rasp of heat and sorrow, “this was supposed to be the part where we figure out what comes next.”

Astarion smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Next always felt like such a luxury.”

She nodded, eyes drifting shut. “Just wanted one normal night. One that wasn’t about running out of time.”

“Then let’s pretend,” he whispered. “Tonight, we have all the time in the world.”

And so they did.

The rhythm of them slowed until even the candles seemed to burn quieter. He lay half-draped across her, their bodies still slick with heat. Her pulse still thudded beneath the patchwork of her chest, steady for now. Still holding.

Astarion brushed his fingers through her hair, slower than necessary, letting the strands catch between them like fine silk. He swallowed thickly, throat too tight for words.

“If I asked you to stay,” he murmured finally, voice barely a thread, “what would you say?”

She didn’t open her eyes. “That I’d stay until the end of the world. And then some.”

The silence that followed cracked something open in him. He felt it down to the marrow—that old, aching wound of being left behind. He had spent so long surviving, clawing his way out of the dark. And just when the world had started to taste sweet again, it threatened to take her away.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, voice ragged.

“It’s not fair.”

“No,” she agreed, arms closing around him, strong and sure. “It’s not.”

They lay like that, wound around each other, hearts beating toward some inevitable silence. But tonight, it hadn’t arrived yet. Tonight, they had the candlelight, and the soft hush of skin against skin, and the sound of two people holding on.

Tonight, they had each other.

And for a little while longer, that was enough.

[coffeeanddonutscafe]

The Camp and the Uncanny Astarion

Hey everybody! Here's a continuation of the uncanny Astarion headcanons! This time, as seen through the eyes of the team members. In Part 1, we’ve got: Gale, Shadowheart, Karlach, Lae'zel, and Wyll. Stay tuned for Part 2, featuring: Halsin, Jaheira, and Minsc — plus a special bonus with Minthara, Myzora (and maybe Dame Aylin). Extra special bonus: everyone's favorite good boy, Scratch 🐾

Astarion, Seen Through Others: What Lurks in the Campfire Light Gale

Gale is a man of logic, magic, and study. At first, he is enchanted. He sees Astarion like a puzzle piece—charming, yes, but also predictable, as most are. There’s a rhythm to Astarion’s manner, like a well-rehearsed performance polished until gleaming. But Gale is a man of patterns and precision, and something begins to itch at the edges. The first crack appears in the firelight. They’re seated around the flames, the others laughing softly, passing a flask. Gale, mid-sentence, glances over — and the words die in his throat.

Astarion’s skin does not reflect the way it should. No golden glow, no warmth. It doesn’t drink the firelight like the others’ skin does — it reflects it, smooth and cold, as if the surface is just slightly wrong. Not flesh. Not quite.

Gale tries to dismiss it. Tricks of the eye. Smoke and shadow.

But it happens again.

One night, while reciting an incantation for Wyll, Gale feels it — a twinge. The unmistakable prickle of being watched, not with interest, but with… stillness.

He looks up. Astarion is perched nearby, a little ways off, half-hidden in shade.

Watching.

Unmoving. Not blinking. Not shifting. Not even breathing.

Just… watching.

“Are you... memorising the spell?” Gale asks a bit nervously. “No,” Astarion says, too smoothly. “Just... enjoying the way your mouth moves.” He smiles. That perfect smile — effortless, elegant, shaped like art. But there’s a pause before it. A beat too long. And in that silence, Gale sees it.

Hunger. Not lust. Not admiration. Something older. Colder. Like a void that mimics human desire because it knows it must.

He laughs it off. The conversation shifts. The moment passes. But later that night, alone in his tent, Gale sketches notes hastily onto the margins of his grimoire.

Reflex delay = inconsistent.

Shadow lag = .2–.4s behind movement.

Eyes reflect in no light. Not biological.

Smile = response delay increasing. Intentional mimicry?

He doesn’t confront him. Not yet. Perhaps not ever. Curiosity wars with caution in him like fire and oil.

But from that night on, Gale etches a glyph of warding into his palm before sleep. Simple, subtle. A protective reflex. Just in case. And sometimes, only sometimes, he swears Astarion knows. Because once, as Gale turned away from the fire and headed to his tent, Astarion’s voice floated after him, calm as velvet:

“Careful, darling. Too much thinking at night invites the wrong kinds of company.”

Shadowheart

Shadowheart is trained in observation. Secrets are her bread and butter. After all she is trained in secrets. Misdirection, deception, half-truths they’re as natural to her as breath. So she recognizes it in him instantly. Astarion is a master of the mask. He moves like water, says exactly enough to keep the attention on others, and never once stumbles into sincerity.

She watches him like a rival. At first. She watches him, waiting for the mask to slip and eventually, it does. Not all at once — but in slivers. Not all at once — but in slivers. Fractures. Oddities that catch at the edge of her practised gaze.

His hair never tangles. Not even after a rainstorm. His clothes lie too neatly against him, as if sewn to his skin. Blood rolls off his coat like water off waxed stone, never soaking in.

His skin doesn’t wear dirt. It repels it.

And once — just once — she sees a cut on his cheek in the heat of battle. A real one. Jagged. Red. It heals before her eyes, threading together like time rewinding. She says nothing.

Then, a week later, a stranger thing: she brushes past him in the tent, her shoulder catching his arm.

And feels nothing.

No warmth. No breath. No hum of a pulse. Not even the ambient softness of another body. It’s like brushing past stone left too long in the moonlight — smooth, cold, and utterly still.

He doesn’t scratch. He doesn’t yawn. He never blinks unless someone’s watching.

When she finally asks — casually, he grins. Easy. Pleased.

“I’m just terribly well-trained,” he says. “You know how it is.” She knows exactly how it is. And yet… she doesn’t. But later that night, she holds her holy symbol and prays this time, without closing her eyes.

Karlach

Karlach wants to like Astarion. Honestly, she tries.

He’s funny. Fancy. Flirty in a way that makes people giggle and blush and feel wanted — like a theater kid with too many secrets. And when she talks, really talks, about the hells and the forge and the fire in her chest — he actually listens. Eyes sharp, chin resting on his fingers like he's devouring every word.

She wants to believe he’s one of those posh, dramatic types — all silk on the outside, big heart underneath.

But something about him itches beneath her skin. A wrongness. Not big, not loud. Just… quiet. Like meat that’s gone off just before the smell hits.

She sees it first in battle.

They’re ambushed. Chaos. Screams. Her vision red and vibrating with fury. Rage roars in her chest. She’s a storm, wild and alive and burning.

Astarion moves beside her. Not frantic. Not wild. Just… still.

Elegant. Precise. Too quiet.

She watches him stab a man through the ribs neatly, like sewing a stitch, and not even blink. No snarl. No breath. No joy. No anger. Just... execution. Purpose.

Like watching a knife slice bread. No soul behind it. Just a function.

And something in Karlach, something old and instinctive, recoils.

Later, back at camp, he leans over her to pass a drink. Close enough to feel his nonexistent breath. His eyes sparkle like he’s rehearsed the movement a thousand times. Her laugh’s already in her throat, until she notices their shadows behind them in the firelight.

His flickers wrong. It moves a heartbeat late, like it’s lagging behind him. Like it’s remembering how to be a shadow, and failing. Or it's an entirely different "being".

She stares. “Do you… Even cast one?” Astarion grins, amused. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

She barks a laugh. Too loud. Too long. Tries to drown out the cold in her gut. But that night, she shifts her bedroll a few feet closer to Wyll’s. Just a little.

Lae’zel

Lae’zel respects predators. But predators are honest. Astarion is not. Predators show their fangs. They hunt. They kill. There is no deception in survival.

His beauty irritates her. Not because it’s vain because it’s constructed. Nothing bleeds. Nothing breaks. He smiles too much. Stands too still. His face holds too much perfection and none of the wear of time or war. Beautiful, yes,  but the kind of beauty that exists in an embalmed corpse. She sees how others flock to him, dazzled. And it enrages her, because it’s a lie, and they fall for it like flies to a pitcher plant. Once, in camp, she watches him sit still for hours, not moving, not reacting. No Gith would ever waste time like that.

One evening, she decides to test him. No sound, no breath she stalks him like a predator would. Weight distributed evenly. Footsteps timed to the wind. She’s within five feet when he turns, smooth as silk, with a smile that’s too knowing. She knows she made no sound. She’s certain. “Curious to see what I look like when I think no one’s watching?” he purrs. Lae’zel freezes. She knows she didn’t misstep. No betrayal of weight or scent. Nothing. “How did you—” “You carry your weight like a soldier. Hard to miss,” he lies smoothly. “Githyanki tread heavily, even when they try not to.”

She narrows her eyes. A lie. She saw no twitch of muscle. No tilt of ear. Not even a flick of the eyes. He didn’t see her. He sensed her.

And in that moment, she knows: He heard her heartbeat. Predators respect predators. But Astarion? He is something older. Something that doesn’t just hunt.

Something that waits.

Wyll

Wyll has seen monsters. Wyll is used to monsters. He's danced with devils literally. Well… he made a pact with one. Fought them. Hunted them. He knows the scent of evil. The weight of it in the air. But Astarion doesn’t feel like a monster. He feels… like a trick.

Too perfect. Too smooth. Too… untouched. Like time forgets to touch him.

Wyll once watches him walk barefoot through camp. Dry leaves. Loose gravel. Twigs. And yet no sound. Not even a whisper. As if the world refuses to acknowledge his weight. As if he never truly touches the earth. And that smile. Gods, that smile. It clicks on like a lantern—bright, and blinding. But it’s always the same. No curve out of place. No variance. Like a mask painted onto his skin. And yet when he speaks… his words land like spells. Too perfect. The exact shape someone needs to hear. Never too much. Never too little. Calculated compassion. Measured charm.It gnaws at Wyll. Like watching a painting that sometimes breathes.

One night, Wyll stays up later than usual. He pretends to read. But his eyes are on Astarion.

The vampire sits by the fire, cross-legged. His spine doesn’t slump. His shoulders never sag. He doesn't fidget. Doesn’t breathe. His gaze is fixed on Tav — sleeping, peaceful, unaware.

Wyll watches.

Astarion never blinks.

He doesn't shift. Doesn’t move. Just watches. A stillness that isn’t rest. It’s closer to… calculation. Like a hawk studying a mouse. Like a marionette waiting for a string to twitch.

Eventually, Wyll speaks.

Quiet. Firm. “You’ve worn that mask so long, I don’t think you know what’s underneath anymore.”

Astarion’s head turns too smoothly. Too fast. His eyes glitter in the firelight, like glass reflecting something distant. Then he smiles.

At first, it’s the same as always, but then… it sharpens. Slightly. The corners lift too high. The teeth show a little too much.

“Maybe, my dear Wyll,” he says, voice low, almost kind. “Or maybe....” A pause.“There was never anything underneath at all.” Wyll doesn’t respond. He simply watches him back.

Thank you, everyone, for reading. Here’s my master list <3 Astarion’s Hidden Strength — Headcanons Part 2 coming soon!