litsenn

[litsenn]

CAN WE PLEASE HAVE WYLL MERCH WITHOUT MIZORA?

CAN WE PLEASE HAVE WYLL MERCH WITHOUT MIZORA?

CAN WE PLEASE HAVE WYLL MERCH WITHOUT MIZORA?

[litsenn]

Astarion drumming away outside of the entrance to the goblin camp. Just a little gif I came across that I made and either didn't post or posted as a whole gifset. Enjoy!

[litsenn]

Just some observations on Astarion learning to see that he is loved

I just saw a clip of Astarion's response to his partner cheating on him with Mizora and it got me thinking. While his entire reaction is very telling and meaningful in its entirety, one line stood out to me:

"I really thought there was more to you. That you were better than other people"

This was striking because it immediately reminded me of something else he says, in the scene after his siblings attempt to capture and return him to Cazador:

"You're the only one. Other people don't have a heart like you. You're you. No one is like that."

These lines feel a little odd at first, because Astarion isn't known for putting the PC on a pedestal. I don't think that's exactly what he's doing here. I think these lines are just capturing the inner chaos and contradiction that naturally come with the gradual unraveling of a long-held worldview. At this point, Astarion is able to process that one person cares for and accepts him, but only one. They must be an outlier: an exception to the rule. Surely they're something special.

Obviously this isn't true, though, and the next step is for him to learn that the PC isn't actually unique in their ability to accept and care for him him. In fact, Astarion is already loved by others and just doesn't see it. This line of his is beautifully contrasted by Karlach's reaction to Astarion's near-abduction. She is righteously angry and protective because she loves Astarion too.

"I dare Cazador to sent more lackeys our way. This is our territory. I'll crack anyone who tries to come into my house and hurt my people."

Earlier in the story, we get a similar moment during the confession scene, showing again how Astarion isn't always able to see the truth of what others feel for him.

When he says this, he sounds surprised. Like the idea of a friend is a revelation. This kind of broke my heart when I first heard it, because I thought it was obvious to him that he already had friends, in both the other companions and my character. But I think a part of him genuinely was stuck in that old thought pattern of assuming that anyone who showed interest in him just wanted to use him. This also makes it clear just how divorced sex is from affection in his mind and experience. Though they've slept together at least several times and grown more emotionally intimate too, Astarion still needs confirmation that the PC actually cares for him.

I made a post once about the two triggers for Astarion's confession here, which further reveal his mindset: going out of your way and into danger to get his scars translated, or choosing not to force him into complying with Araj's dehumanizing demands. Both of these things are concrete demonstrations of respect and care for him and what he wants. Astarion knows very well how empty words can be, so actions are what finally help him believe that the PC cares about him, and gives him the impetus to confess.

Later, If you break up with Astarion, his reaction is extremely telling in that he regresses slightly from this healthier mindset he had developed:

"I can hardly blame you. I don't exactly have much to offer right now, beyond new burdens to carry."

Typically, we witness any traces of Astarion's self-deprecation filtered through irony or dark humor, so his vulnerability in this moment is stark.

He claims that he has very little to offer, but that just isn't true. He may be going through a bit of a crisis, but he is still a shockingly good partner given the circumstances. He is unwaveringly supportive, caring, and clearly tries to lighten his partner's emotional load when they begin to feel the strain of responsibility. Not to mention, just being himself still makes him perfectly worthy of being loved. In any relationship, there will be times when one person needs more support than they themself can give, and that doesn't mean that they aren't enough. We're seeing, yet again, that he sometimes just doesn’t recognize how deeply he is valued by others. At this point, maybe a part of him still feels like he needs to be of service in order to be accepted, let alone loved. I also personally interpret this line as partially concerning his insecurity around not "providing" his partner with sex at this time, reiterating this deeply internalized belief that he needs to perform in order to be valued.

All of these little moments add so much subtly and humanity to his character, and make his development feel natural and earned. The payoff is clear after Cazador's death, when we get to see his new confidence:

He doesn't have to ask "really?" this time.

"You believed in me - believed I was enough just the way I am."

He truly knows now that he is loved.

[litsenn]

Canon in videogames (ascended astarion rant adjacent)

So I noticed that a lot of the comments disagreeing with me seeing Ascended Astarion/Tav as a toxic relationship tends to focus on a particular way to see canon.

In media that is fixed (no viewer input more than reading/watching/interpreting) canon is pretty easy to define, and of course there will be interpretation above it (and headcanons too). And I thought canon was pretty easy to define in videogames, but clearly not? Or maybe it is and I am being fooled??

So I am writing this post so that every time someone comes at me with the same argument over and over again, I can just redirect them here.

So the argument seems to be this: "Ascended Astarion is not toxic because I never broke up with him, so my character and me did not see him acting toxic", or "Well, I did not play as Karlach, so Astarion did not react badly to my character at all" (the Karlach scene is this one). More on Ascended Astarion and my opinions on how he sees love and relationship here.

The thing is, I do not think this makes much sense for what we consider canon. The answer I usually get is "This is an rpg where you create your story". Yeah... within the confines of a set world.

I imagine videogame canon like this:

(SORRY for the shitty graph)

Everything on the bottom is given by the writers. That is the canon world. By the nature of the videogame that world can also change, but it is not as infinite as the player's imagination. The player is the one that in classic rpgs has infinite amounts of possible stories and backgrounds that can be expressed with a finite amount of choices.

These choices enact upon the world (ex. in Fable I can kill everyone in the village and the people will call the guards on me), on objects (ex. drinking from the Well in Dragon Age Inquisition) and on characters (ex. helping Vivienne's quest).

These are big choices, but there are also small ones of simple interactions. I imagine it like a bouncing ball. As the player I throw things at the world/objects/characters and they will respon in a certain way based on how they are written.

For example, I can ask Astarion: "Hey, what colors were your eyes before you turned into a vampire?" and he as a CHARACTER who is written by writers will reply in a certain way. In what way? Usually in a way that is directly correlated to his characterization. So, he is going to answer "I don't remember." This dialogue was chosen and written by people (real human beings) with the intent of telling a story.

Now, in rpgs like Baldur's Gate 3 (but I think it is more visible in rpgs like Pathfinder and Dragon Age), world and characters change with choices. So what you get bouncing back at you is not the same static character.

Ex. let's take Dragon Age, let's take Isabela from Dragon Age 2. As the player you will meet Isabela and she will be written as "character Isabela". All your interaction with her are: Player -> Dialogue; Isabela -> Answers with Isabela-specific dialogue. These dialogues characterize who Isabela is, her role in the story, her backstory etc.

Through the game, Isabela will take two possible paths thanks to the interactions with the player, so the Isabela-path1 will have specific answers that will be associated to her character development, same for Isabela-path2.

So the player can influence the direction of the character but the player does not substitute the character with their own headcanon... the writers wrote that path, that direction, and now the new Isabela's answers will help the player see the consequences of their choices.

For objects and less interactive npcs it is similar:

You have the world. There is a cat in the world. You meet the cat and the player knows the cat is there.

Now, the point is this:

What happens to the cat if the player does not explore that part of the world/city? Is the cat still part of the canon?

The answer (in my opinion) is yes. Because we know 100% that videogame are written as finite creations (at least rpg), save from patches. So we know 100% as a fact that in the story of the videogame Baldur's Gate, Myshka the cat is there even if the player does not find them or visit them. That is why using playthrough and guides if something we can do.

The same happens with characters.

If I ask Astarion "What is the worst thing that ever happened to you" in act 3, he will reply "Being buried alive".

If I don't ask Astarion the question... does this mean that we are playing a game where he could reply ANYTHING else? Does this mean that he was never buried alive just because as the player I did not explore those options?

Of course not.

Astarion is a fixed character (like Isabela) who can change path into another FIXED character.

So imagine Astarion like a bottle. He has all these things: lore, characterization, a path, how he reacts - these are all written IN HIM, because he is a fictional character created by writers and not by the player. As the player you can poke and throw him in a blender, and ask and insist, and you will get answers from him. Answers based on his characterization.

What happens if you do not ask the questions?

What happens is that the characterization is still there, but as the player you did not get to see it. For example, many players do not know that Astarion was buried alive by Cazador, but the fact is still canon and still part of his backstory.

When you choose to ascend him, you are influencing a path - but you cannot control the consequences. You push him in a direction but the direction, the characterization, is fixed and written by the creators of the game (and Astarion).

So it does not matter that the player will never choose the option to break up with Ascended Astarion after the ending - very rarely people choose those option, if not to try out of curiosity, as this is the very end of the game - it does not matter because what matters is what the answers tell us of his character. Which is that he now completly controls Tav and takes away their agency.

So someone can play the whole Ascended Astarion as the perfect romance, and imagine that their created character thinks of it as the perfect romance. But as the player, you are aware that you are choosing dialogues, you are aware of the fact that if you choose the wrong dialogue you will uncover more of Ascended Astarion's characterization.

"I would never break up with Astarion in my game so he is not toxic in there" makes no sense, because the point is that "The writers wrote Ascended Astarion as this kind of character, by not breaking up I am roleplaying NOT UNCOVERING this toxicity." The toxicity/abusiveness still exists, it is simply hidden for roleplay reason... but you, as the player, should know how videogames work.

[litsenn]

Safe touch

Pairing: Astarion x reader [no gender mentioned] Word count: 1.7K Summary: Astarion is starting to have a panic attack, will you find a way to help him? Read it on AO3

Jaw clenching, alarmed eyes, trembling lips; Astarion isn’t feeling alright. And you, you recognize the first signs of a panic attack.

Approaching carefully, you try to catch his gaze with your own, but it’s shifty, elusive. You know it would be pointless to ask him how he feels.

“Astarion? Maybe you should try to breathe slowly.” You suggests in a gentle whisper.

“I don’t need to breathe.” He snaps, his voice hoarse, bitter, and his fists clenching at his sides. You can almost hear the heavy, painful lump growing in the back of this throat.

You don’t recoil. You’re not letting him down now, but you know you have to proceed carefully.

Your chambers in the Elfsong Tavern are awfully quiet. The other companions are downstairs, and you’re both supposed to join them. But you already know it won’t happen this evening.

“You might not actually need it, but sometimes it helps.”

Astarion shakes his head, his movements sharp. The wince on his face, filled with fear and anxiety, breaks your heart. You never saw him like this before, but you should have expected this to happen. After all, you’ve been back in Baldur’s Gate a few days ago only, and after the spawns’ intrusion the night before, you can’t expect Astarion to feel serene.

You need to be patient with him, and you will. He needs you to be patient.

The tension between the two of you is so heavy you can almost feel its weight on your shoulders, but it won’t stop you. You slowly walk to the bed behind Astarion and sit down on the edge. He observes you from the corner of his eyes but doesn’t make a single move.

“Please, sit with me, Astarion.”

No answer. Your heartbeat quickens with anticipation as you silently beg for him to accept.

After a moment that feels like an eternity, Astarion finally turns around hesitantly and makes a few steps toward the bed. His features are still tense, but they’re also imbued with a disarming vulnerability. You give him a gentle, hopeful smile. When he finally closes the gap between you and sits at your side, his body is still agitated with tremors and he refuses to look you in the eyes.

With great care, you slowly reached out for his hand. As soon as your skin touch, Astarion freeze for a second, before relaxing slightly just enough to let you rest your fingers against his knuckles. Your touch is light as a feather, barely brushing along his fingers. A gentle presence, but not an overwhelming one.

Your eyes never leave his face as you start to take long, deep breaths, quietly encouraging him to mimic you. He hesitates again, frowning as he watches your chest rise and fall rhythmically, the sounds of your breath like a soft music only he can hear. He opens his mouth but doesn’t speak. He breathes. You nod. One inspiration after another. He struggles to match your rhythm but eventually aligns his inspirations with yours. You’re breathing in synch, and you can easily see him relax, if only a little. Shoulders slouching slightly, his eyes finally finding yours. The moment feels precious, sacred almost. For a few long seconds, only the two of you exist, your featherlike touch on his hand, the air that passes between you, the melody of your synchronized breathing. You want to tell him it’s going to be alright. You want to tell him he’s safe. But you know words, right now, are meaningless. Your silent promises carry more truth than any grand declaration.

Another sparkle of relief rises in your chest as you feel his fingers react gently to your touch, intertwining with yours. You give a little squeeze, and he gives you sad smile that touches your soul so deeply you could have wept about it.

Breathing helps but Astarion is still unwell. No longer in panic mode, but clearly dismayed. His fingers are pressed against your palm, and another idea pops up in your mind.

Shifting slowly on the bed, you let go of his hand and sit against the bedstand. Astarion watches in confusion, a disappointed twitch of his eye as your hands part. Crossed-legged, you take a pillow and put it on your lap.

“What are you doing?” he asks in a raw whisper, as if rediscovering his breath was altering his voice.

“I’d like to try something with you, Astarion.”

He looks at you suspiciously, tensing up again.

“Nothing you’re not comfortable with!” You quickly add, desperate to reassure him. “Whatever happens, say the word and everything stops.”

The look on Astarion’s face is still that of suspicion, but you can already detect a few signs of curiosity in the way his lips curls, in the spark in his eyes. As for the tension in his body, that creeping anxiety, it hasn’t receded but it’s under control – maybe too much.

“I’m listening.” He says, his sharp gaze following your every move.

“Would you rest your head against the pillow?”

His eyes widen as he watches you pat the cushion on your lap. “I don’t understand, darling. Why would I…?”

“Please, Astarion. Can you trust me with that? I promise I won’t insist if you don’t like it.”

He lets out a laboured sigh, gazes at the room around you, taking in the quietness of the moment but also the looming threat only he can feel as the night falls upon the city.

You wait silently, until Astarion finally decides to lay down. Resting on his back, his head against the soft pillow, he’s looking up at you. Now you can feel the little tremors in his tensing muscles.

“Thank you…” you whisper, and you mean it. You’re grateful for his trust, for his willingness to give you a chance. “I’m going to touch your hair. Nothing more.”

A sarcastic chuckle leaves his lips. “And why would you do that, darling?”

“Try to relax, please. And let me know if anything feels wrong.”

He shrugs but keeps his eyes on your face. The pressure of his head against your lap is somehow comforting. It’s the first time you see his face from this perspective, and he looks as handsome as usual, albeit the anxiety still haunting his features.

“This is ridiculous.” Astarion winces, obviously unconvinced.

You don’t pay attention to that last remark, moving your hands instead, putting your fingertips against this scalp. Your touch is careful, and you watch Astarion closely, observing his reaction. The vampire spawn doesn’t react immediately, waiting for you to actually do something. Your heart is pounding hard, and you know he can hear it, feel it. You take the time you need to calm down.

When you feel ready, you start combing his silver locks with your fingers. His hair feels like silk, and you can’t help marvelling at its softness. Of course it’s not the first time you touch his hair, but you never really had the opportunity to focus on it before, to really appreciate how soft it is, to observe its luminous shine in the candlelight. For a short moment, you even forget to check on his reaction, your fingers gliding hypnotically through the silky strands.

When you focus on his face again, you instantly notice the change in his features; Astarion has closed his eyes in the meanwhile, the tension is slowly leaving his muscles, but there’s still a confused frown on his brow.

“Is it alright?” you ask hesitantly, as if afraid of his answer.

The nod he gives you is instantaneous, visceral. And it’s followed by a deep, content sigh.

You smile, you can’t help it, and you go on. You play with his hair, brushing ever so slightly against his scalp and forehead, your fingertips tracing his hairline down to his temples. Your nails aren’t that long, not after so many weeks of adventure, and some of them are even broken, but with the tip of them, you follow his hairline until your reach the nape of his neck. A gentle caress there at the top of his spine, and he shivers under your touch.

He’s smiling softly.

Your fingertips keep on travelling through his hair, combing the silver strands, and each time you brush against his ear, a little gasp escapes his lips.

He’s relaxing, progressively, slowly, but it’s working.

“Astarion…?”

“Hmmm?”

“May I touch your face?”

A moment of silence. His eyes are still closed but you can almost see the gears in his mind.

“Yes…”

Tilting your head, you carefully place your thumbs against his temples while your index fingers begin to trace his jawline, gliding down to his chin ever so slowly. Then back up again, across his cheekbones, tracing soft patterns under his eyes and from the corners of them up to his forehead. With infinite care, you let your finger glide along his eyebrows until the frown on his brow finally vanishes.

“Does it feel alright?” You ask softly.

“Keep going, darling… please.”

Your heart skips a beat. Astarion is enjoying this, and so are you.

The whole world around has disappeared, you’re both tucked in your own bubble, safe and finally peaceful.

It’s like a dance, your fingertips on his skin, sweeping away the tension, leaving goosebumps in their trail as they follow the line of his nose, the line of his lips and the corner of his mouth. You can even see that Astarion is trying not to smile, and suddenly, you want to kiss those lips. But you don’t. Not now. This is not about kissing or groping, not even about flirting.

It’s something else. Something that needs no word, no explanation.

Just your touch, safe and soft against his skin, in his hair, and Astarion’s precious mind released from the growing panic that was plaguing it just a moment ago. His body, bruised and abused so many times, finally rediscovering what tenderness truly means, finally understanding that a foreign hand is not necessarily a violent hand. All fingernails don’t scratch and cut, some of them can caress and soothe.

Before long, his features look perfectly peaceful, the fears gone, for now at least. You soon realize that he’s truly resting. Not trancing. Sleeping. You wonder if he’s dreaming, you hope there will be no nightmare, but the slight smile on his lips doesn’t vanish, and you smile with him.

[litsenn]

Oops.

[litsenn]

I'm so weak 🫠

[litsenn]

Safe touch

Pairing: Astarion x reader [no gender mentioned] Word count: 1.7K Summary: Astarion is starting to have a panic attack, will you find a way to help him? Read it on AO3

Jaw clenching, alarmed eyes, trembling lips; Astarion isn’t feeling alright. And you, you recognize the first signs of a panic attack.

Approaching carefully, you try to catch his gaze with your own, but it’s shifty, elusive. You know it would be pointless to ask him how he feels.

“Astarion? Maybe you should try to breathe slowly.” You suggests in a gentle whisper.

“I don’t need to breathe.” He snaps, his voice hoarse, bitter, and his fists clenching at his sides. You can almost hear the heavy, painful lump growing in the back of this throat.

You don’t recoil. You’re not letting him down now, but you know you have to proceed carefully.

Your chambers in the Elfsong Tavern are awfully quiet. The other companions are downstairs, and you’re both supposed to join them. But you already know it won’t happen this evening.

“You might not actually need it, but sometimes it helps.”

Astarion shakes his head, his movements sharp. The wince on his face, filled with fear and anxiety, breaks your heart. You never saw him like this before, but you should have expected this to happen. After all, you’ve been back in Baldur’s Gate a few days ago only, and after the spawns’ intrusion the night before, you can’t expect Astarion to feel serene.

You need to be patient with him, and you will. He needs you to be patient.

The tension between the two of you is so heavy you can almost feel its weight on your shoulders, but it won’t stop you. You slowly walk to the bed behind Astarion and sit down on the edge. He observes you from the corner of his eyes but doesn’t make a single move.

“Please, sit with me, Astarion.”

No answer. Your heartbeat quickens with anticipation as you silently beg for him to accept.

After a moment that feels like an eternity, Astarion finally turns around hesitantly and makes a few steps toward the bed. His features are still tense, but they’re also imbued with a disarming vulnerability. You give him a gentle, hopeful smile. When he finally closes the gap between you and sits at your side, his body is still agitated with tremors and he refuses to look you in the eyes.

With great care, you slowly reached out for his hand. As soon as your skin touch, Astarion freeze for a second, before relaxing slightly just enough to let you rest your fingers against his knuckles. Your touch is light as a feather, barely brushing along his fingers. A gentle presence, but not an overwhelming one.

Your eyes never leave his face as you start to take long, deep breaths, quietly encouraging him to mimic you. He hesitates again, frowning as he watches your chest rise and fall rhythmically, the sounds of your breath like a soft music only he can hear. He opens his mouth but doesn’t speak. He breathes. You nod. One inspiration after another. He struggles to match your rhythm but eventually aligns his inspirations with yours. You’re breathing in synch, and you can easily see him relax, if only a little. Shoulders slouching slightly, his eyes finally finding yours. The moment feels precious, sacred almost. For a few long seconds, only the two of you exist, your featherlike touch on his hand, the air that passes between you, the melody of your synchronized breathing. You want to tell him it’s going to be alright. You want to tell him he’s safe. But you know words, right now, are meaningless. Your silent promises carry more truth than any grand declaration.

Another sparkle of relief rises in your chest as you feel his fingers react gently to your touch, intertwining with yours. You give a little squeeze, and he gives you sad smile that touches your soul so deeply you could have wept about it.

Breathing helps but Astarion is still unwell. No longer in panic mode, but clearly dismayed. His fingers are pressed against your palm, and another idea pops up in your mind.

Shifting slowly on the bed, you let go of his hand and sit against the bedstand. Astarion watches in confusion, a disappointed twitch of his eye as your hands part. Crossed-legged, you take a pillow and put it on your lap.

“What are you doing?” he asks in a raw whisper, as if rediscovering his breath was altering his voice.

“I’d like to try something with you, Astarion.”

He looks at you suspiciously, tensing up again.

“Nothing you’re not comfortable with!” You quickly add, desperate to reassure him. “Whatever happens, say the word and everything stops.”

The look on Astarion’s face is still that of suspicion, but you can already detect a few signs of curiosity in the way his lips curls, in the spark in his eyes. As for the tension in his body, that creeping anxiety, it hasn’t receded but it’s under control – maybe too much.

“I’m listening.” He says, his sharp gaze following your every move.

“Would you rest your head against the pillow?”

His eyes widen as he watches you pat the cushion on your lap. “I don’t understand, darling. Why would I…?”

“Please, Astarion. Can you trust me with that? I promise I won’t insist if you don’t like it.”

He lets out a laboured sigh, gazes at the room around you, taking in the quietness of the moment but also the looming threat only he can feel as the night falls upon the city.

You wait silently, until Astarion finally decides to lay down. Resting on his back, his head against the soft pillow, he’s looking up at you. Now you can feel the little tremors in his tensing muscles.

“Thank you…” you whisper, and you mean it. You’re grateful for his trust, for his willingness to give you a chance. “I’m going to touch your hair. Nothing more.”

A sarcastic chuckle leaves his lips. “And why would you do that, darling?”

“Try to relax, please. And let me know if anything feels wrong.”

He shrugs but keeps his eyes on your face. The pressure of his head against your lap is somehow comforting. It’s the first time you see his face from this perspective, and he looks as handsome as usual, albeit the anxiety still haunting his features.

“This is ridiculous.” Astarion winces, obviously unconvinced.

You don’t pay attention to that last remark, moving your hands instead, putting your fingertips against this scalp. Your touch is careful, and you watch Astarion closely, observing his reaction. The vampire spawn doesn’t react immediately, waiting for you to actually do something. Your heart is pounding hard, and you know he can hear it, feel it. You take the time you need to calm down.

When you feel ready, you start combing his silver locks with your fingers. His hair feels like silk, and you can’t help marvelling at its softness. Of course it’s not the first time you touch his hair, but you never really had the opportunity to focus on it before, to really appreciate how soft it is, to observe its luminous shine in the candlelight. For a short moment, you even forget to check on his reaction, your fingers gliding hypnotically through the silky strands.

When you focus on his face again, you instantly notice the change in his features; Astarion has closed his eyes in the meanwhile, the tension is slowly leaving his muscles, but there’s still a confused frown on his brow.

“Is it alright?” you ask hesitantly, as if afraid of his answer.

The nod he gives you is instantaneous, visceral. And it’s followed by a deep, content sigh.

You smile, you can’t help it, and you go on. You play with his hair, brushing ever so slightly against his scalp and forehead, your fingertips tracing his hairline down to his temples. Your nails aren’t that long, not after so many weeks of adventure, and some of them are even broken, but with the tip of them, you follow his hairline until your reach the nape of his neck. A gentle caress there at the top of his spine, and he shivers under your touch.

He’s smiling softly.

Your fingertips keep on travelling through his hair, combing the silver strands, and each time you brush against his ear, a little gasp escapes his lips.

He’s relaxing, progressively, slowly, but it’s working.

“Astarion…?”

“Hmmm?”

“May I touch your face?”

A moment of silence. His eyes are still closed but you can almost see the gears in his mind.

“Yes…”

Tilting your head, you carefully place your thumbs against his temples while your index fingers begin to trace his jawline, gliding down to his chin ever so slowly. Then back up again, across his cheekbones, tracing soft patterns under his eyes and from the corners of them up to his forehead. With infinite care, you let your finger glide along his eyebrows until the frown on his brow finally vanishes.

“Does it feel alright?” You ask softly.

“Keep going, darling… please.”

Your heart skips a beat. Astarion is enjoying this, and so are you.

The whole world around has disappeared, you’re both tucked in your own bubble, safe and finally peaceful.

It’s like a dance, your fingertips on his skin, sweeping away the tension, leaving goosebumps in their trail as they follow the line of his nose, the line of his lips and the corner of his mouth. You can even see that Astarion is trying not to smile, and suddenly, you want to kiss those lips. But you don’t. Not now. This is not about kissing or groping, not even about flirting.

It’s something else. Something that needs no word, no explanation.

Just your touch, safe and soft against his skin, in his hair, and Astarion’s precious mind released from the growing panic that was plaguing it just a moment ago. His body, bruised and abused so many times, finally rediscovering what tenderness truly means, finally understanding that a foreign hand is not necessarily a violent hand. All fingernails don’t scratch and cut, some of them can caress and soothe.

Before long, his features look perfectly peaceful, the fears gone, for now at least. You soon realize that he’s truly resting. Not trancing. Sleeping. You wonder if he’s dreaming, you hope there will be no nightmare, but the slight smile on his lips doesn’t vanish, and you smile with him.

[litsenn]

Little EA dialogue if you promise Netty you'll take the poison as soon as you'll transform.

I have to admit I love this dialogue, but on the other hand it contradicts the "how do you want me to kill you" dialog you can have on night 2, so I get why they removed it.

But I think you could make both dialogues work together with a few well-adjusted hc. For instance, it seems obvious to me that Astarion would rather trust his own poisons than that of a stranger.

[litsenn]

Such a beautiful story!

It somehow reminds me of my mom, when I came out as pan when I was 16 and told her about the girl I was dating. "Oh! when I was your age I had a crush on a classmate and back then I couldn't tell her or anyone. I'm so happy for you."

Happy pride month to my dad. When I came out as bi to him, this man googled what it ment, look at me and said "ohh. Yeah. You get that from me. You'd have far more siblings of I only shaged women." And went right back to his work emails.

[litsenn]

"The norm is to keep dirty thoughts like that to ourselves. But do carry on."

[litsenn]

This moment in the conversation they had after meeting Pale Petras and Dalyria at Fraygo's Flophouse was very frustrating for me, to be honest.

Not in a bad way, more like: “ohh what are you doing?!” ٩(๑`^´๑)۶

Last time I played I probably didn’t check all the lines, but now that I found this branch I need to vent a little.

If you suggest Astarion to just run away he (understandably) argues he doesn’t want to spend eternity as a fugitive, constantly fearing the shadows. And this ritual might allow him to walk under the sun, even after they deal with the tadpoles. But then…

Astarion: And you want what’s best for me, surely.

Just look at his eyes. He is being so obviously manipulative with this line it feels like a stab, especially after everything they’ve been through.

And yes, he says something similar in other branches, too. But this particular phrase sounded the worst to me, especially with that look in his eyes.

Look at her face – she’s not having it too.

But here… I think he understands this as well.

But he can’t help falling into safety of the familiar patterns he’s been using for so long. He is back in the city where everything remind him of his life before. He has just had to face his siblings. And his old self reflected in them. He is back under Cazador’s suffocating presence. The inevitable final confrontation is right ahead.

And the pressure he’s under is immense. He wants to be safe, to be powerful and free. Maybe even to be able to give something back to the person he loves.

He has barely started his path to the healing, but this all is too much too soon.

It hurts to see him like that. Maybe I should be angry. And yet – I just can’t hold it against him. Not when I see where it’s coming from.

I’m sure Roanael knows that too, and she’ll just keep being there and asking the right questions, gently reminding Astarion that there’s another path – the one that leads to light, not darkness.

[litsenn]

Little EA dialogue if you promise Netty you'll take the poison as soon as you'll transform.

I have to admit I love this dialogue, but on the other hand it contradicts the "how do you want me to kill you" dialog you can have on night 2, so I get why they removed it.

But I think you could make both dialogues work together with a few well-adjusted hc. For instance, it seems obvious to me that Astarion would rather trust his own poisons than that of a stranger.

[litsenn]

Cute EA spawn

[litsenn]

Astarion’s Hair: A Comic

Edit: there is now a part 2

(Edited to increase text size for readability)

[litsenn]

One of the things Radiant Astarion taught me is how amazing it feels to be yourself, to accept who you are with all your so called 'weaknesses', to accept that you can't control everything, and that it's fine.

Hell, it feels so good!

[litsenn]

he loves his drum 😊

Astarion drumming away outside of the entrance to the goblin camp. Just a little gif I came across that I made and either didn't post or posted as a whole gifset. Enjoy!