#actually i like astarions too because he’s a bit of an ass

[agent-jaselin]

I actually liked how Halsin always confesses romance to you, it’s fun when an npc is the one initiating flirting.

And he doesn’t get angry or have actual, mechanical, disapproval if you don’t share his interest because he’s written as an actually mature man unlike Anders from Dragon age.

[karlachian]

okay well picture this you are 24 years old. already crazy but stick with me. not only are you 24 years old you have spent the last 7 years of your life just like #folkheroing your way across the wilds. you got that rapier swag etc. anyways you are also a horrible little ball of guilt stuffed into an approximation of a man (again you are 24 years old and also secretly a warlock). anyways then you get kidnapped by mindflayers and tadpoled (normal weekend) also your body changes irreversibly in a way that you cannot control due to your truly horrid patron because you refuse to kill like an innocent woman (BAD weekend). now. you are a monster hunter and one of the people in your new gaggle of tentative allies is like so clearly and obviously a vampire. evil little cunt too. but you're like no he's charming and has nice hair (you are the only person who holds this opinion because you see the vision in ways never seen before). then he fucking BITES you. you're like um. girl. why would you want me to kill you. and he's like NO i have TRAUMA. and then you listen and he DOES have trauma. 200 years of it and it's INSANE. now of course you are a sweet man and you are gentle and kind and patient and a) do not kill him and b) when he tries to use seduction technologies to get your ass you fairytale prince him into a courtship. he's like i actually wanted to scam you bigstyle but you're actually good to me also i kind of want you for real. what do we do now. and you're like haha yessss romanceeeeeee. he complains about everything but dances with you anyways it's very sweet. this whole time you are ignoring your insane self-worth and general care for own wellbeing issues until again this classically cunty looking vampire is like "ummmm you are being a bit of a little bitch also i like you so stop being a little bitch". you help him kill his fucking horrid bastard of a vampire lord and keep him from continuing the cycle of abuse. he "and he SAID NO PICKLES" you out of your warlock pact. you have sex on his GRAVE. you propose MARRIAGE. HE SAYS YES. he hates your negligent father with self-expression issues so much and WILL be making his life hell. oh yeah you're the grand duke's son you can be grand duke now (despite that being an elected position?). this whole time once again you are. 24 years old. that's what it's like to be wyll ravengard on an astarion origin wyllstarion run. ruminate with me in this space tonight.

[ladyofrosefire]

fuck it, bg3 companions shower routine

Shadowheart: Shar hates self-care, but a Shadowheart does take pride in her hair, and a Shadowheart who has learned to be kind to herself can indulge. Long, complicated hair routine, very specific water temperature, and a tendency toward long-ass depression showers. LOVES a bubble bath and will make a whole event of it with flower petals and candles just for her. Will bring a book with a little book tray and a glass of wine.

Astarion: Similarly complicated hair routine. Gotta hydrate the curls, and being dead does not do nice things to your hair. Less prone to standing there staring at nothing while the horrors set in, but prone to scrubbing too hard. Similarly fond of a bubble bath, although without the book or flowers, although he will fuck with an essential oil heater and likes to make his own blends.

Lae'zel: Queen of the 4 minute shower. She has been accused of not even waiting for the water to heat up, but she likes it blistering. Does not actually use 3-in-1, thank you. Having fairly short hair helps. She finds the other companions baffling. Would get bored in a bubble bath unless she had company (rubber duck counts).

Wyll: Sings. If someone called him on it, he would be embarrassed, the first time, for about a minute. Neither wildly efficient nor inclined to standing there for ages and ages and prefers to shower in the morning. Washing his hair is a chance to relax and take care of himself, although before he has his family back, it can be a bit melancholy. He has fallen asleep in the bath before. I feel like he'd love a bath bomb and he'd love the full romantic evening with candles and flowers and music.

Karlach: Please, please someone boil her. Once she gets her engine fixed all the way, she tries a cold shower just to remember what it feels like and keeps up a running commentary about how much it sucks while also not turning up the temperature. Absolutely loves sharing a shower with someone and will also sing. Should not attempt her little jig on wet tiles. May try anyway. Someone should introduce her to proper hair/skin care because if anyone is using 3-in-1, I'm sorry, it's Karlach. Genuinely cannot sit still for a bubble bath unless she has company to cuddle.

Gale: Voted Faerun's Most Likely to Relitigate Arguments in the Shower, Even if He Won Originally. Loves to pamper himself, canonically, loves a spa day, also canonically. You simply are not getting the bathroom back for a good hour, although not all that time involves running water. Plays around with different products and researches the living hell out of everything. Loves a long soak. The only person with a feline in their house to ever bathe in peace. Constantly torn between wanting a book with him when he has a bath and not wanting to get the pages steamy and damp, much less actually wet.

Minthara: Her ideal hair wash involves someone else doing it for her while also having the utmost certainty that the person will not attempt to murder her. If her partner washes her hair for her, she turns into a puddle. She has an incredibly specific lineup of products. If she shares, understand that she has bestowed upon you a great gift. More about bath salts than bubbles and could be persuaded to a sufficiently elegant bath bomb (it would not be a difficult check).

Halsin: Low-flow showerhead user. Hell, he might be the kind of person to turn the water off entirely when not soaking/rinsing out his hair... However, he is not immune to the "shower together to save water" line even though he KNOWS it doesn't work that way. He needs low-scent soaps/etc considering his heightened sense of smell. And listen, this man does not fit in a bathtub unless he goes somewhere special or finds a particularly large one. He made everyone floaty ducks, properly sealed against water damage, and he has one for himself that holds his soap.

Jaheira: Understands that having a chair in the shower is just being kind to yourself and proceeds accordingly. Will revisit arguments she had that day, but despite that has a quick and fairly simple routine. She needs the water pressure to pound the everloving hell out of her back. Loofa on a stick user. Like Wyll, she has fallen asleep in a bathtub, in part thanks to having and using a bath cushion. Truly, the expert on bath-based comfort.

Minsc: Also sings in the shower. LOUDLY. Boo is allowed to sit a shelf out of the way. The best way to get him to use lotion is to give him something that smells yummy. He has similar problems to Halsin regarding fitting in bathtubs. He tries anyway. He has been banned from at least one hotspring for doing a cannonball.

[robotbeetle]

I can’t draw, my skin is breaking out, it’s humid, and I have covid (in 2024 that’s so embarrassing) so here are some wyllstarion headcanons as I try to cope with these mild discomforts.

- Wyll is pretty lax with his horn care by himself, at first he tried hard to ignore their existence entirely. But you best believe Astarion “worst fear is chipping a nail” Ancunin would swoop in and put him on a whole ass routine. It’s even become a bit therapeutic for Astarion to oil and polish Wyll’s horns before bed. And after a while Wyll’s horns absolutely shine, like if they were impressive before, they’re even more awe inspiring now like you would see them in a pinterest mood board. Astarion adores decorating them with jewelry too and even wyll gets a little kick out of buying a horn ring or two now

- Astarion fell first and fell hard. Just didn’t realize it fully till Wyll confessed first.

- built on canon: neither of them use actual mirrors, they just trust the other to be one for them every morning. For Astarion the reason is obvious but there’s some dialogue in game about how wyll feels discomfortable looking at his reflection post transformation and it makes me crazy.

- Wyll once told Astarion to be more discreet with where he leaves his bite marks and now he has semi permanent puncture wounds on his ass

- Wyll’s body runs overly hot due to his infernal transformation while Astarion runs unnaturally cold due to his undeadliness. Together they reach thermal equilibrium when they cuddle. During the summers, Astarion is the big spoon, and during the winters, Wyll is the big spoon.

- Astarion always walks alongside wyll’s blindside because he’s always half expecting to be ambushed and wants to be there to cover for him

[sharkboywrites]

Hello! May I ask for the BG3 gang with an autistic gn Tav who is. Very Very Large but also quite young (think like... Older teen.) who just decides that Astarion/Wyll/Halsin/Gale etc is their new favourite person and WILL NOT leave them alone.

It would be very funny if they just... didn't realise Tav was actually A Kid™ and thought they were just a weirdly clingy grownup. Except Halsin. Halsin would know Immediately.

Inspired by my dumb ass being enormous and this having happened to me irl many times.

Bg3 Characters With a Young Older Looking Autistic Tav

A/n: This idea is so silly I love it. This is obviously written as platonic because reader is younger and baulder's gate characters are older and I don't write weird stuff like that lol although I'm sure that's expected. Also also i did all of them together because I do not have the energy to write sperate headcannons for each of them, dont worry they all get their moment

Gn Reader, Child/teen Reader

This was an... interesting situation

Everyone on the team assumed you were just assumed you were a bit childish for an adult

I mean could you blame them? You were massive, anyone would assume you were an adult

Except for Halsin

He could easily tell your age, but it's something he kept between the two of you, mainly for safety

Halsin takes more of a dad approach if you cling to him

He's very protective of you and teaches you new skills

He also keeps anyone else on the team from hitting on you, for obvious reasons, but wouldn't say why

He's also the most attentive when it comes to your autism, he's always keeping an eye out for you and helping when he can

It took the others longer to find, though

Wyll was the second to put two and two together

Once he realized, he grilled you about why you didn't tell anyone about it

He isn't too harsh though, and takes a more "fun uncle" role

He always makes sure to entertain you, he's the guy who's got fidgets on him just for you incase you need them

He also decides not to tell anyone for your safety after consulting with Halsin, but he does wish you said something sooner

Gale is the second to last to find out, after trying to teach you something about magic

He had questioned why you didn't know any of this, it was supposed to be common knowledge for someone your age

Or someone he thought was your age

He just stared at you blankly for a good minute after you told him how old you actually were

He's more upset at himself for not noticing to be honest

He realizes how that actually makes a lot of sense

Gale, like Halsin, also takes a more fatherly approach

he teaches you things you may have not known before, and is one of the most helpful when it comes to working through your autism

He's a knowledgeable man and can tell what you need, probably before you do

He's very protective, often insisting that you stay out of battles, but it's not like you listen to him in that department

For comedy's sake, Astarion is the last to find out, and he is pissed

He's mad that no one told him, even if it wasn't too long Gale found out and most of the party knew

He looked so dumbfounded when he found out and like Gale, was more mad that he didn't realize sooner

He's upset, but he gets over it quickly after a day or two of snarky comments and like Wyll, takes on a cool uncle postion

The whole party suddenly wants to protect you and it's suddenly become one of their top goals to return you to your parent/guardian if you have one, next to y'know, getting the worms out of your head

If you don't have somewhere to go they may or may not argue on who takes you once it's all over

Generally, you're taken good care of from then on, much better than you were before

Everyone's very attentive to you and tries to be aware of what you may need at any given point

Since they all have some type of trauma, they want to make sure the same doesn't happen to you, especially so young

Being in this situation is stressful for anyone, let alone a child, and a child with a disability

They do their best to make you happy and keep you safe

They may struggle, but they do their best, and now you have people to call family

[mactiir]

ranking baldur's gate characters by how i think they smell

#9) Minthara. Because she’s a corpse, next question.

#8) Lae'zel. You know this woman has never bathed. Washing is for the weak, is'tik. She says this is because needs her musk to attract mates but mostly it's cuz Gith education doesn't exactly make time for personal hygiene. Once it got so bad that Tav dragged the whole party through a chest-deep stream and stood there for 20 minutes to take a "breather" while Laezel stared daggers at them the whole time.

#7) Karlach. I want Karlach to smell nice so badly, and Karlach probably wants Karlach to smell nice too, but you know this woman smells like brimstone and engine exhaust and sweat. On good days she smells like the fine char you get on burgers on a summer day. On bad days she smells like a truck stop at peak hours, and the truck stop is also on fire. She's not happy about this either.

#6) Gale. Gale tries to keep himself groomed, he really does. But he looks like he is perpetually just a tiny bit smelly. Like he hyperfocused on a book slightly too hard for slightly too long and as a result he forgot to shower for a week. He acts like he bedded Mystra because of his towering intellect but really it's cuz gods don't have human senses of smell. His nightshirt looks velvet, too, and you KNOW it can't be easy to get smells out of that shit without a washer. He is one of those poor guys who is cursed to always stink a little bit no matter how much he showers. When Tav confronts him about this he decides, on the spot, that deodorant is for anti-intellectuals, actually, which he wouldn't have expected Tav to know but it's okay, we can't all be enlightened.

#5) Minsc. He doesn't reek exactly, but you know he's 100% man musk, hamster bedding, and butt-kicking

Tied for #5) Jaheira. You know 100 years of living in forests and adventuring with Minsc has endowed her with exactly the same level of manly perfume as Minsc (except with notes of cedarwood).

#4) Wyll. He used to be the best-smelling until Mizora pulled him through every level of hell in rapid succession, and now he smells a little bit like brimstone all the time. He sometimes rubs fragrant herbs on his horns to counteract it, which doesn't get rid of the smell, really, but it gives his smell an interesting dimension. Otherwise, he has enough experience with adventuring, and is well-bred enough, that him and his things are usually well-groomed (and also because his dad was a freak about it).

#3) Shadowheart. This woman puts on tragic makeup every morning and changes her hair to reflect her religion. Appearances are EVERYTHING (especially when it comes to keeping secrets). Shadowheart smells exactly like she thinks she needs to smell to be religiously pleasing to her goddess and/or coMplEtE thE mIsSioN. She does get anxious sweats though, which are very distinctive if it's been a long day of adventuring. She never admits this, though. Ever.

#2) Astarion. Okay, so, sometimes, he smells just the teensiest, tiniest bit like dried blood. But mostly, he smells like baby powder and potpourri. It is a waste of good fashion sense and his pretty face to go about stinking like a beggar. (He does go through a brief 'Cazador can't tell ME what to do' phase where he stops bathing for a day, but he grosses himself out so much that he resumes his normal routime before anyone notices.)

#1) Halsin. You'd expect him to stink, with his whole smelly-hippy free-love vibe, but nah. The man smells heavenly. He spends all his time frolicking through fragrant herbs and lounging in scented hot springs with whomever strikes his fancy. He probably has a whole ass medicine cabinet full of stuff he uses to freshen up. His breath probably smells like mint and his hair like cedar. He probably puts coconut oil or smth in his hair. He knows how to smell good as literally any animal in the realms. Wanna know why? Dogs have a sense of smell several thousand times better than people. I bet bears do, too. You do Not Fuck As A Bear without understanding not only how to WASH your ass, but also perfume it. Halsin also knows: thou shalt not give yeast infections. And if you got bear dick, that means HYGIENE. It's a point of pride for him, actually.

BONUS: WITHERS. Withers smells like nothing. Like, freakishly, unsettlingly like nothing. Like, you expect him to smell like dust or pitch or smth. Nope. He's a black hole of smell. You come near him and if you ask, he resets your entire hygiene routine for 100 gold and leaves you smelling like roses.

[zwolfgames]

Goblin camp overtake (drabble) Platonic!Yandere!BG3 x Teen!Reader

(Hopefully it's a bit accurate because ive only played the story twice for now so i dunno all the posibilities.)

Summary: Teen!reader and the squad go take defeat the goblins. Therefore meeting Halsin, and Minthara again.

Warnings: Death (obv), mentions of gore, Goblins

Other related BG3 by me: Intro

The sun was shining, the flowers in the forest were blooming... On days like this, kids like you had been tasked with commuting genocide on the local goblins.

Not that you really cared. They were little shitheads... Stole your laundry once back when you lived with your mom... before all this...

But getting closer to this alleged camp wasn't making you any more at ease. You could already imagine the stench of those sweaty creatures when you have to inevitably walk into that camp. Which you've heard is actually just an old temple.

You've noticed over time that people in your little group have gotten... well, friendlier. For example: Lae'zel was no longer throwing you glares, Shadowheart remembered your name, Astarion has indoctrinated you into his schemes... Yea, the three most hostile people had warmed up to you.

And the other have just... always been quite nice.

Well, Wyll still didn't seem to approve of you, a minor, coming along. But he didn't really have a choice as the others were not allowing him to take you back to the Emerald Grove. Guess they really do find you too funny to lose then.

"Ugh, the stench is disgusting." Karlach waves the air under her nose away.

"It is the smell of a goblin camp. What were you expecting? Tchk. And I myself find this odor quite thrilling. It promises of a good fight." Lae'zel slightly smirks. Clawed hands flexing around the handle of her greatsword.

"Of course you do... Tough the smell of blood has never scared me away." Astarion, in turn, chuckles in that weird posh way. You raise a brow.

"So you're sure you're not a vampire?" You question sarcastically. The pale elf gasps in mock offense.

"Of course not. I merely like the smell." He huffs. Right, so that time you saw him hunt down a boar must have been make belief.

The rest of the party didn't comment anymore as you made your way to the camp.

Gale had thrown his arm around your shoulder to keep you at the back. He excused that as 'magic users stay behind so they can asses the battlefield'. But he probably just didn't want to accidently get Lae'zels sword through his back.

This mission to save some druid calmed Halsin was looking like a total hassle. But hey, why not do side quests while the worm in your head is ready to kill you?

Whatever person lives in your head didn't take kindly to your remark as you heard the voice say they'd protect you.

Right, bullshit. You're just developing pshycosis. A hundred percent that.

"Y/N. If they target you, I want you to run, alright?" Wyll speaks calmly.

"Well, I mean, not that I don't want to but were kind of in this together -" You start nonchalantly.

"Don't listen to the human. It is unhonerable to run from a fight." Lae'zel scolds like a lecturing general.

Well, do you really care about your honor? It's not like you're trying to capture the Avatar here-

"Yea yea, got it, boss." You sigh. The slight stress makes its way to your head. It's just some goblins, right? Nothing a good magic missile can't solve... Right?

You take back your words quite quickly when Astarion smooth talks his way past the outside security to let your group pass. There's like... at least fifty goblins here!

You feel an arm slitter around your shoulders. Looking up, you can see Lae'zels warry face.

She's gripping that greatsword quite harshly, a bit scared, maybe? Tough you doubt it, it's Lae'zel..

You ignore the stink eyes these little creatures are throwing you and walk along with your group.

"My, what a festive place, no? Look, they even have booze." Astarion muses with his typical smug grin.

"We're not here to party." Gale groans. The wizard stares at the goblins in distaste. You note that everyone is on edge

A goblin child sticks her tingue out at you, so you do the same, blowing raspberries for good meassure. This action earns you a dissaproving look by Wyll.

"So where's this druid? I don't want to be here any longer then needed." Shadowheart complains with a little wave infront of her nose to showcase that she thinks this place stinks.. Wich it does.

"Let's ask!" Karlach offers her idea.

"You've got to be the most optimistic person I've met and we have a literal child in the group." Gale groans.

"You can't miss any of the chances you take." Karlach shrugs.

"Let's just gut all of them. I'm sure we can search for the druid in peace then." Astarion smirks.

"For once, I agree with the pale one." Lae'zel sneers.

You watch your group bicker a bit longer as you wander out of the grip you had been put in. Walking around the goblin camp instead.

Mhh, a clear booze tub. They're drunk. Quite ideal.

You scan around the area, a certain tall woman catches your eye, seeing as she isn't a goblin.

Wait a minute, you've met her before! She almost killed you on the beach when the Nautiloid crashed!

The nerve of that woman, she doesn't deserve the same hairstyle as your mother.

Astarion had snuk out of the argument your group of idiots was having right in the middle of the goblin camp. He stuck himself to your side, observing along with you.

"You seem... focussed. You have an idea, do you not?" The pale elf asks smoothly.

"An inkling. They're drinking, and Nettie gave us wyvern poison... I mean...?" You let your gaze travel to the booze tub. Astarions red eyed orbs follow along. You can see a sharp toothed grin spread across his face.

"I just know we're going to be great friends, Y/N.." He smirks and puts a cold hand on your shoulder.

You just smile in satisfaction that your plan is apparently good. Before you know it, Astarions snatched the poison out of Shadowhearts pocket. You watch the man go invisible to presumably go dunk the booze in poison. Or maybe he's gonna drink it... But he never seemed suicidal... So it should be fine.

"Y/N, c'mon, we're going into the temple, the druid should be there." Karlach waves you over.

You nod and join the group again. Getting tucked back under someone's shoulder.

The first leader of the Goblins you had met was a priestess. And oh boy, defenitly not your favourite... She wanted to brand you! Is she nuts!?

So anyways, Lae'zel chopped her head off... Uh... props to Wyll for covering your eyes.

Then there was Dror Ragzlin. Scary guy that one. Almost twice your size, mean face and doing necromancy. Yikes.

Unfortunatly, you did have to help in this fight. There were goblins storming in through the door and well just that beast of an orc.

So you you just started blasting spells at the incoming goblins. Fireball and Ice Knife were a nice combo, no? Make em slip and then steam the ice and do damage? Sounds logical to you. Was anyone else smelling barbeque or just you?

When that got taken care of, Karlach strapped a helmet to your head and lead you back to the group.

The last leader was the same woman that had tried to kill you. Minthara, apparently. You've never seen a real drow, so this was cool. Except for the part where she tried to kill all of you. That wasn't that cool...

Just before she was supposed to just die, Lae'zel had accidently hit one of the wooden beams in the room. The ceiling collapsed right infront of you.

Well, maybe she's dead? Atleast it's not your problem anymore?

After all the goblins inside had straight up been slayed, Astarion joined the group once more, seeming quite pleased with himself.

"Where have you been?" Gale asks sternly. Raising an eyebrow in suspiscion. It's still quite annoying that nobody really trusts anyone here..

"Let's just say the situation outside is taken care off." Astarion boasts proudly.

"Really? And you did that, alone?" Shadowheart states in a disbelieving tone. Gods forbid the fancy man does anything impressive.

"Yes! Is that so hard to believe?" Astarion scoffs and crosses his arms.

"Very." Shadowheart argues back.

"I'll believe it when I see it." Lae'zel adds.

Wyll and Karlach just exchange glances. Well you know that he did it. So there's no need for your input-

"Ahhh!" You eep in fear as a large man had appeared behind you. Wich is very scary considering every one in this temple was supposed to be dead.

"Calm down little cub, I mean no harm." The large man smiles reasuringly.

You stagger back to Lae'zels side. This man... Elf ears.. Brown hair. Ah, druid attire? Halsin, perhaps?

"And who are you?" Shadowheart asks for all of you.

"Halsin. You were sent here to come chack on me, or are you just lost adventurers?" Halsin asks with that same smile.

"Well, we found him. Back to the grove-" Gale starts walking off before Karlach grabs the rim of his robes to keep him in the group.

"We did come here for you. Have the goblins hurt you?" Wyll asks calmly. Halsin shakes his head.

"Nothing I can't handle. Why the cub?" Halsin tilts his head at you.

"They're actually an immortal being in the form of a child. Wiser then any of us." Astarion makes up.

Halsin raises a brow. Clearly not believing that.

"Right. But like your little wizard said, we should get back. I am sure the grove has missed me." Halsin hums.

"Don't think so, they're closing it off frol the outside world." You mention calmly.

"What." Halsin stops smiling. You just shrug, that's all you picked up from it.

Halsin frowns and starts walking out. What determination.

Your group eventually exits the dead silent temple after having taken any valuables. Can't leave without some loot, who knows if you're getting paid!

As you walk out the large door, the death Astarion had caused is quite visible, dead goblins everywhere. R.I.P, you won't be missed.

Now that that's taken care of, who knows what adventures await you thanks to this stupid worm in your brain!

Not the best, but it's something. Yan feelings gotta develop trough the story but I'm not fully there yet.

[chaoticbardlady99]

HI FIRST OF ALL LOVE YOUR WRITING second of all ! kind of specific but may I request an astarion x reader/tav where like. 90% of their time with the companions reader/tav hasn’t been able to see all that well- like. they can see colors and sort-of shapes but most details are completely incomprehensible, and through some method or another (probably someone’s attempt at “removing the tadpole” or smthn but up to you!) they’re finally able to see clearly and they’re just. completely amazed because EVERYTHING (astarion) is so beautiful actually??

Like Nothing I’ve Seen (Astarion x GN! reader)

CW- Mentions of gore and violence (due to Volo being a socially incompetent goofball) , self-esteem issues because I’m an insecure queen myself and like to deal with my feelings through my OCs

I tried to write a body neutral reader as well so everyone can imagine themselves in this story! I hope I was able to pull that off.

Title inspired by the song “Beautiful Things” by Grayscale

Hello! I am so sorry this took so long. Work has been kicking my whole ass lately!!!

This has not be thoroughly proof read so I may make changes as I find them, but I was too excited to post it! I hope you enjoy!

Being a monk is hypothetically supposed to help your pain tolerance- ya know, zen and shit.

Except, you quickly learn that a crossbow bolt to the eyeball is enough to break your zen.

Lae’zel and Shadowheart’s fighting quickly subsides as you stare at the two blobs out of your (now) one only good eye- good being a stretch. Admittedly, of all the people this could have happened to, it’s probably a good thing it was you since your eyes don’t really work anyway.

The purple, silver, and black blob (who you have come to know as ‘Shadowheart’) comes running towards you, her movements frantic as she begins to try to bandage your eye. You wince as she starts to remove the crossbow bolt.

“I am so sorry,” Shadowheart says, the distress evident in her voice, “if only that gith would stop being such a problem.”

Shadowheart practically screamed the last bit, but at least you are in too much pain for the shrill sound of her voice to bother you. You never wanted to find out if eyeballs could throb- you missed the hours before breakfast when you were blissfully ignorant to the true capabilities of your eyeballs.

The hostile green ball, Lae’zel, comes charging over with an insult sitting on the tip of her tongue before another blob knocks her aside.

“Walk it off Lae’zel,” you hear Karlach say with heavy amounts of exasperation.

Lae’zel grumbles as she storms off; Shadowheart continues to slowly work on you as you wince, whimper, and feel the tears start to fall.

“What did you do?!”

The rage in his voice rattles your bones- if tones could kill, Shadowheart would have keeled over. The radiant blob of your lover is in Shadowheart’s face (at least you hope it’s her face).

“Fangs, put them away!”

“Oh? Were you this anal when they were SHOOTING CROSSBOWS KARLACH?!”

You are beginning to feel dizzy and the yelling isn’t helping. Shadowheart, Karlach, and Astarion are arguing relentlessly- Karlach attempting to mediate. At some point Gale and Wyll join the mix- you think they are trying to hold back Astarion, but you aren’t sure.

In all the chaos, you are unaware of Volo coming up behind you- a solution brewing in his brains.

“Don’t worry my friend,” He explains with gusto, “I can fix this!”

Before anyone can protest, Volo rips the bolt out- your eyeball coming out with it before Volo plops a spherical object in your lap.

“Tada!”

The blood curdling scream that rips through your throat as you clutch at your eye socket surprises even you. In the midst of the white, hot pain- you hear Volo running off , also screaming, away from what you think is Astarion.

You feel Shadowheart grab the spherical object from your lap as Karlach holds you down on the ground.

“Sorry Soldier, but this is probably going to hurt.”

Oh and it hurts.

Shadowheart is wiggling the eye roughly into your eye socket, apologizing the entire time. You feel your socket form around the new eye. The pain from the removal and the new addition begins to subside into a dull ache as the new eyeball makes itself at home in your head- healing energy radiating from it and Shadowheart’s palm.

You feel like you are going to throw up, pass out, or go into a fit of hysteria by the time you start trying to blink your eyes open. You stare down at the grass below you and watch as a red bug with black spots walks along one of the blades before taking flight.

You freeze- the world is definitely not blobbish anymore. You run your fingers through the soft, green grass.

Has it always looked this way?

“How is the new eye?” Shadowheart says nervously.

You look over at her and try to stifle your shock.

Shadowheart is stunning and Karlach is just as awe inspiring as Shadowheart.

“Are you okay, Soldier?”

Sometimes you forget that your companions don’t know about your vision issues. You are able to hide your vision deficit well due to your years of training as a monk teaching you how to rely heavily on your other senses and the energy in the air.

You have come to adore all of your companions for their personalities, their laughs- Astarion especially. However, now you understand why perfect strangers come up to your companions with enamored voices.

“You catch him, Fangs?” Karlach says in a teasing town.

You hear Astarion scowl, “the bastard ran off and disappeared before I could even get near him.”

Astarion appears out from the corner of your eye and kneels in front of you. You try so hard to keep the surprise and adoration from showing on your face. His eyes bore into yours with an emotion that is not recognizable. A tick of frustration flares in your mind- now you have to learn an entirely new set of rules for social interaction.

Except, you’ll deal with that later. For now, you have a literal God kneeling in front of you, his hand cupping your cheek and surveying your new eye.

Gods he’s incredible.

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper involuntarily.

As the blush spreads along your cheeks, Astarion breaks out in a bright, beautiful smile.

“Well that settles it, your vision is working just fine!”

He gives you a quick kiss on your lips- your face feels like it’s on fire.

It has been a little over a week since the tiefling party. He had been distant with you initially after your midnight tryst and you had felt quite broken over it. Well- until you had been spending time with Gale at the campfire talking about the Monastery you grew up in and his experiences with the weave. Astarion had barged into the conversation, sat down next to you, and had practically pulled you into his lap next to the campfire. After that night, you’ve become inseparable- sleeping in each other’s tents, more midnight trysts, cuddling, spending the whole night talking or playing games. You spend alone time with your other companions- he would never control you or dictate who you spend time with. He would spy on you and Gale, but he would never prevent you from talking to him.

“No my dear, I trust you. I just don’t trust the boot muncher.”

“You really need to stop saying that,” your serious demeanor cracking, “he doesn’t actually eat the boots.”

He snickered, “oh ya? Then why have we never seen them after he absorbs them? And yet everyone judges my feeding habits!”

Astarion helps you up off the ground and you are dizzy from all the new stimuli around you. His hands find purchase on your hips as he helps steady you. You take advantage of the support and look around your camp.

It all looked exactly how you did and did not imagine. Your brain feels like it’s having a war between what your senses tell you about the land versus what your eyes are saying. You can label everything in the camp because you know where it is based on location, but none of it looks like the way you had anticipated- in fact, it was all far more breathtaking than you imagined.

“What are you thinking about Darling,” he whispers against your ear.

A pleasant shiver runs down your spine, a smile consuming your face.

“I was thinking it might be fun to go explore around camp and make sure my eye is really working.”

He stares at you with an unreadable expression, “I’m sure the environment and your sight hasn’t changed that much?”

Ah, that look means confusion.

“Don’t be such a pessimist,” you put your hand on your hip and flash a grin, “besides, it’s not like I asked you to go with me.”

*******************************************

Astarion walks leisurely behind you as you make a point of touching anything you can reach. He thought you were the most normal one at camp (mentally at the very least), but he is beginning to think he misjudged you.

You are twirling around the forest like you’ve never been in one before. You ask him questions about specific objects and express a great deal of interest in everything you come across- you even find the rocks interesting. While he did find the strangeness to be odd, he still couldn’t help but relish in the genuine, innocent joy on your face. Astarion feels an unfamiliar warmth spread throughout his body while he watches you as you bound around the forest floor.

Astarion is slowly recognizing that his plan is unraveling, but only a little bit. He had thought you would be the lovesick puppy chasing him around camp, but, as Karlach has pointed out to him, it’s the opposite.

He finds himself always making an inventory of where you are in relation to him, who you are talking to, and your feelings- even the ones he is currently disrespecting by attempting to gain your undying protection.

Now Astarion is here- watching you follow a bumble bee towards a large Oak tree.

As you stop and make a point of sitting down under a tree, you touch the various flowers scattered in the grass and excitedly chat about the details of the flower. Astarion silently sits next to you with a smile and takes a look at your face- you look like a blind man seeing for the first time. The realization hits him like an eldritch blast.

“Darling?”

You hum.

“Have you not been able to see until today?”

Astarion watches as you tense up and your eyes meet his. Astarion struggles to discern the look in your eyes- it’s somewhere between fear and apprehension. He offers you a small smile before you break eye contact with a sigh.

“I, um, was sick as a baby. My mom left me outside of a monastery. I guess whatever I was sick with attacked my vision so I could only really see colors and the basic outlines of the things,” Astarion looks at you as if to encourage you to go on so you continue, “it’s never affected me though. The monks taught me how to use my other senses and taught me how to sense energy in the air.”

Astarion is still trying to wrap his head around the fact that a. He was right and b. You slept with him without knowing what he looks like? C. You are easily the second strongest in your little gang of weirdos and the entire time you could barely see.

“So when you told me I was beautiful last week?”

You blush and hide your soft grin. He hears your heart begin to race.

“I really did mean it then,” you pause,” but it’s a different kind of beautiful. I think you are a very good person- I just adore you. Your smile, your laugh, your personality- even the snarky bits. Or when you are at your absolute worst.”

You pause and give him a joking smile, “You are a real pain in the ass though. I didn’t know why everyone is so enamored with you, but now I can see why all those tiefling women kept flirting with you at the party now though.”

He tries to hide the frown that threatens to reveal itself and he sees the panic flash in your eyes.

“Not that I’m saying you are nothing but your looks because that is not true,” you bite your lip, “I just know I came to like you for who you are on the inside and that was…. Quite the experience.”

“Are you suggesting I’m an acquired taste?!”

“Hmmm,” you tap your chin, “ I suppose that is exactly what I’m saying.”

“I am truly heartbroken darling, I thought we had something special.”

He huffs playfully and pretends to be upset- ignoring the butterflies in his stomach. Astarion’s heart clenches as you look at him with the same warmth he is feeling. You break eye contact from him and he can’t help but feel disappointed.

“We do, you’re just lucky I’m a monk and I’ve been forced to practice patience my whole life.”

Astarion is lost for words as he turns over what you just said in his head. You scratch the back of your neck and start talking again.

“And not to mention, you deserve someone who is going to take the time to know you for you- not just adore you for what you look like. You are really one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met Star.”

We do. Incredible. Star.

His body feels like it might explode from the chaos of emotions spirals through his body. He thinks maybe the effects of the tadpole are wearing off because he feels like he is burning alive. He fights the urge to take you right there in the flowers.

A couple minutes later, you look up at him again- that same fear in your eyes, but also some hope. After you realize he isn’t going to say anything, you speak again.

“I am not entirely sure why you have gravitated towards me, but I really like you. I understand if you don’t feel the same way and we can just go back to being friends,” you pause, “and you won’t lose my protection. I still intend on helping you be free of Cazador once and for all.”

You look away from him, hands fiddling with the flowers. Astarion is still digesting everything you just said to him.

It wasn’t that he didn’t reciprocate your feelings (even if he refuses to admit he does), he just doesn’t… deserve someone like you.

He had always been under the assumption that monks were stuffy and by-the-book. You had taken him by complete surprise. You are slyly funny, have no problems with bending the rules if it means helping someone (he doesn’t care for the intent of bending the rules, but he likes bending the rules), and you are accepting. You aren’t neutral with your feelings unless you are trying to mediate an argument or make the best decision for the group.

He appreciates how blunt you are in private- he never has to try to guess what’s on your mind. You make him feel safe like no one else has for the last 200 years.

How could I not gravitate towards you?

It also occurs to him that you have never seen yourself- how your eyes twinkle when you smile or the dimples that grace your cheeks. You hadn’t even seen your body- the same body he was starstruck by and, despite the dissociation and icky feelings, he was able to enjoy the sex between you to some extent.

He gets up from his spot on the ground next to you- your shoulders slightly slumping in defeat.

“Oh stop being so dramatic darling,” he teasingly smiles at you, “get up- I have something to show you.”

***************************************

You blindly follow Astarion to his tent- you had asked him what he wanted to show you the entire walk back, but he refused to disclose that information.

Once you were in camp, Astarion had wrapped some cloth around your eyes before dragging you in the direction of his tent.

“Now you stay right here- don’t move a muscle.”

“Oh you mean like-“

He interrupts you by swatting your hand away from his curls. You pout playfully and he pulls you to his chest before kissing you deeply. You are shocked by his actions and his gasp of surprise tells you he is just as shocked too. You feel him pull back as you start to melt against him, your hands tangled in his hair. An impatient whine escapes your lips. He chuckles.

“No, no, no,” he says, “not yet. Now stay still or there’s no more kisses for you.”

“No more kisses!?”

“You heard me!”

You stay still- the threat is more than enough to convince you to stop. You can hear and sense Astarion rustling around the tent, placing various objects of different vibrations all around his tent. It feels like it takes eons as he readjusts and moves the objects around. Finally, Astarion hums with approval.

“Alright darling, you can take the blind fold off now.”

You take off your blindfold eagerly and your eyes adjust to the warm light in the tent. As you look around, you see that Astarion had set up every mirror he owns all around the tent.

Mirrors.

You stare back at who you can only presume to be yourself. You take in all your features- dissecting yourself. The longer you stare at yourself, the unhappier you become.

You know that Astarion’s intent is good (or you hope it is), but you can’t help the frown that takes place on your face. You are so plain in comparison to Astarion and everyone in camp. Why would he want to be with you when he could have someone as stunning as Shadowheart? Someone equally as interesting to look at?

“What’s wrong,” Astarion says with alarm in his voice.

You suddenly become aware of the hot tears running down your cheeks as Astarion cups your face with his hands. You shake your head, crying harder as he wipes your tears away.

“Darling, please.”

The desperation in his voice causes you to finally meet his eyes, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“ I’m so plain looking,” you state with venom in your voice, “the rest of you are all beautiful in unique ways and I just look like everyone else.”

He scowls, shaking his head at you.

“That is not even slightly true.”

He twirls you around in his arms and has you facing the mirrors again. You have to remind myself that he is behind you still as you feel his fingers trace the details of your face (it would really ruin the moment if you elbowed him in the ribs).

“No one shines like you do. No one smiles like you or laughs like you- crinkles their eyes when they are happy like you. You are funny and intelligent; and by the Gods you are powerful. The fact that you have been fighting blind this whole time is absolutely incredible. You, darling, are a force of nature,” he puts his face in the crook of your neck, kissing the delicate skin, “I may say a lot of honeyed words, but I wouldn’t say them if they weren’t true.

“And, in all my 200 years of living, I must say, you are like no beauty I have ever seen before.”

You can’t help but smile brightly and you try to look at yourself the way he sees you. Maybe you can see the person he is referring to, but you just need more time to get used to actually seeing yourself. Maybe with time, you will be able to see how brightly you shine too- you’ll just have to work at it.

You smile at yourself softly and say a quiet you’re wonderful to yourself before looking away from the mirrors.

You turn around and give Astarion a soft, long kiss- he sighs into it, meeting your tempo until you pull away; Breathless like a fish out of water. He puts his forehead against yours, looking into your eyes.

“Thank you, Astarion- I think you shine too.”

[fl3shm4id3n]

ₛₑcᵣₑₜ ₚᵣᵢₙcₑₛₛ

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧, 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞, 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐚 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐠𝐨.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴀꜱᴛᴀʀɪᴏɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ! ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ! ᴛᴀᴠ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Tw: reader is described to have white hair and lilac eyes, medieval misogany and themes, biting scene, slight angst but fluff towards the end.

A/N: I miss writing about my Targaryen! reader, I almost didn't have anything to wite for this, but I tried, hope ya'll like it. I might make a part two to this. Any feedback in appreciated.

Masterlist

You had run away from King's Landing, you hated the Royalty life and you knew that if you remained there, things would get worse. So you left, as much as you wanted to take Bloodfyre, you didn't. You didn't want for something to happen to him, so you left him behind. You had gone wherever the boat you boarded has taken you. That happened a year ago, but now things seemed to be fine, for now.

Except, you had a tadpole in your head, that was making you have dark urges and you had to find the Emperor and stop these Tadpoles from doing anymore harm. You manage to find yourself a group of people, who joined you on your quest to find this Mindflayer, soon after came Astarion. Your first impression was a bit off, he literally had a knife to your throat and threatened to kill you but he didn't. That was a strange encounter, now he too was a part of the party.

He was a very interesting person. He is very charming and charismatic as well as cheeky. He just knew his way around words. Astarion had began to show an interest in you. It felt a bit weird, but you didn't think much of it. Back home everyone wanted to be with a Targaryen, due to you having different features than most and because you can tame dragons. Back home, a lot of suiters wanted to marry you, one because you were a princess and two because you'd give them heirs with Targaryen features, that's another reason why you hated being royalty. It was no secret that despite being a princess and all, you'd be seen as an object of power and you'd have no say to anything. You job was to stay quiet, obey your husband and squeeze out heirs, well, that was no longer in your mind.

But Astarion was a whole new different story, he actually showed some genuine interest in you. He didn't try to kiss your ass to gain your trust, he was actually trying on getting to know you. That was something new. It felt a bit flattering, knowing that someone was genuinely into you despite who you were and what your name was. But he would make comments, asking why you'd have a three headed dragon on your cape and why you had gold, plus ruby earrings with a matching necklace, which were a target of getting them stolen, which you'd brush off and ignore the question.

That night you were squirming in your sleep, all you could see if fire and hearing the roars of your dragon. As if he was trying to call out to you. Then you opened your eyes, to see Astarion about to bite you. He opened his eyes and backed up. "Shit." He said, you quickly got up and faced him. "No no, It's not what it looks like, I swear." He said, almost frightened. "I... I wasn't going to hurt you." He said, breathing heavily. "I Just needed... well, blood." He finally spit it out, still nervously.

As you looked closely, you saw how his pupils were wide, in need and his fangs on display. Then you grabbed a stick near by. "What are you.." he stopped as he watched you snap it and half and pointed the now broken part of the stick at him. "Oh no! There's no need for that!" He scolded you as he smacked the stick out of your hand. "How long has it been since you killed someone? Days? Hours?" you accused him, a bit upset by him trying to bite you earlier. "I've never killed anyone!" he said, getting defensive. "Well.. not for food." He admitted. "I feed on animals. Boars, deer, kobolds. Whatever I could get, it's not enough. Not if I have to fight. I feel so... weak." He explained, seeming guilty in a way.

"If I just had a little blood. I could think cleanlier. Fight better. Please?" He asked. You then took this the wrong way. "Oh... so you want me for my Valyrian blood is it?" you asked him, getting a bit offended by this. "What?" he asked confused. "So that was your plan? Make me trust you and fall at your feet so that you can have a taste of my blood!? Is that it!?" You asked him, getting mad. "What on earth are you talking about?" He asked, now even more confused by your sudden accusations. "Don't play dumb! You only want to drink my Valyrian blood! You want to get a taste of a Targaryen don't you!? Is that it!?" You asked, not getting agressive.

"Targaryen? What on earth is a Targaryen!?" He asked, then you felt like your face fell. "You don't know who I am? I'm a Targaryen princess, or at least was." You explained. "Whoa, darling I didn't know who they are and what you are talking about." He explained, now you felt a bit embarrassed. He had no idea who you were and you had basically blurted out your secret to him. "I did catch that you were a princess?" He asked, with a cheeky grin. You then sigh. "You know what, I'll let you drink you drink my blood and I'll explained everything to you afterwards, deal?" You asked him. All Astarion did was nod with a smile on his face.

After allowing Astarion to drink your blood. You were sitting on your bedroll which was next to his. "So, please explained to me, why you nearly went hysterical on me dear." He asked. "And I apologies for that." You added, then you sighed, rubbing your hand onto the area where he bit you. "Well, due to the History of Targaryen's having different features and taming dragons, many noble houses want to marry a Targaryen. One for power and two, because we have the ability to tame dragons." You explained to him. "Oh? That explained, and here I thought you were a being from the moon, due to your white hair and lilac eyes." He said with a chuckle. Also making you chuckle.

"But tell me, why did you leave your life of royalty behind? Was being a princess not all as it seemed?" He asked. "Depends on who you asked. I was basically born to be an object, my whole role is to be quiet, obey my husband and squeeze out as many heirs, boys." You added. "It was tiring you know, not being able to make my own choices, I was always told to follow my role and due everything that would please the people. Who probably don't even care about me or anyone in the palace." You told him. All Astarion could do was just listen to you. Hearing your story on why you left behind your life of royalty.

"Not only that, but my mother and grandsir are as bad as anyone that I know. My grandfather basically told my mother to seduce my father right after his wife and son had died instead of letting him properly grief, but law is law. They're not good people, my grandsire wants power, and he'd mostly use his grandchildren to get what he wants." You told him. "Wait, you have other siblings?" He asked. I nodded. "Three brother, a sister and a half sister." You told him, he only hummed in response. "Yeah, a bunch of weirdos if you ask me." You added. It was quiet for a moment, then Astarion spoke. "Well, as strange as it may sound, if that didn't happen, you would've never excited, and I am happy you're here!" he admitted.

You looked at him with shock in your eyes. You never expected him to say something like that. "Oh.. well..." You didn't know how to respond to that. Astarion chuckled, seen the flattered look on your face. "Although, you may not be a princess anymore, you're the princess I'd gladly bow down to." He said, almost cheeky, making you even more flattered.

[vixstarria]

Bloodbang Chronicles - Chapter 8 - A little bit of murder

Chapter summary: Astarion does something he shouldn’t have, but hey, can you honestly look into big sad wet cat eyes and blame him?

Chapter word count: approx. 3.9k

Chapter CW: Astarion’s past abuse and trauma. I don’t get too graphic, because this is not that kind of fic, but reader beware.

Previous chapter | Series masterlist | AO3 | Overall masterlist

Series summary:

Five years have passed since the confrontation with the Netherbrain. Astarion and his warlock lover, Asmodea, are living it up in Baldur’s Gate, running a cabaret. Their life of decadence and debauchery seems idyllic, until Asmodea’s patron disrupts it with a proposal. One that seems too good to be true. One they cannot refuse.

Pairing: Astarion x Original Female Character

Genre: Humor / adventure / smut

Rating: Explicit

Asmodea was onstage when she saw the man.

Clothes that were seemingly simple but too pristine worn with what she recognised to be outrageously expensive wyrmhide boots, immaculate hair and beard, a smug smirk and an air of not having a single care in the world.

Another resident of the Upper City who thought he was slumming it by visiting their establishment. She knew the type.

He would harass the dancers, try to proposition her, be a loud nuisance and generally act like he owned the place. The staff, in turn, would rob him blind overcharging him for drinks that they’d spat in or worse.

It was annoying, but ultimately worth it. He would be tolerated until he grew violent or started upsetting the other patrons. Until then, he would be expected and encouraged to spend as much gold as he had on him. She knew and understood this dance.

What she didn’t understand was why Astarion was all over him.

A too sweet, too seductive smile plastered on Astarion’s face. Thigh brushing against thigh, a finger running down the man’s chest. He was actually making an effort to seduce him. It didn’t make any sense. He considered himself above that - he typically treated their potential bedroom ‘guests’ with an air of near-indifference, albeit making it clear that he was available - they had to come to him themselves, if they wanted him. She could not fathom what was going on now. This man wasn’t even attractive, and even if he had been, they never did this without coming to a prior agreement together first, never.

Astarion leaned in to whisper something in his ear, and the man, impossibly, grew even more smug than before, and reached down to grab Astarion’s ass with one hand.

Astarion swiftly slid out from the man’s grasp, and left the theatre. He didn’t as much as glance in her direction.

After a short eternity, which she knew actually took about two minutes of her act, the man took off in the same direction as Astarion.

Whatever this was, she trusted Astarion, but damned if she had to wait a single second longer than she absolutely had to, to find out the explanation behind it all.

Neither had re-appeared by the time she was done with her act, and so Asmodea walked, trying to appear casual, in the direction they disappeared.

She entered the vestibule. There were some people there, none of them Astarion or the mystery prick. She approached the hostess stationed there.

“Has Astarion passed through here by any chance?” Asmodea asked her.

“I think I saw the master head towards the restaurant some time ago.”

Asmodea nodded her thanks and proceeded towards the bar and restaurant section of the establishment.

He wasn’t there. Nor, after a cursory glance, was he in the kitchen. Something told her to avoid drawing attention to the question of his whereabouts, and she did not ask anyone else about it.

She refused to search upstairs. Wherever he was, and whatever he was doing, it couldn’t be in their private apartments. She would not even entertain that thought, albeit her mind was rapidly spiralling towards a multitude of unsavoury conclusions.

On a hunch, she made another turn, walking past the pantry, past the wine cellar, until she rounded another corner and stood near the door to the basement.

The door stood slightly ajar. No sounds came from beyond.

Her heart pounding with a sense of premonition, she passed through the door and descended the stairs.

Asmodea observed the scene before her.

A mangled, bloody corpse, its limbs bent at impossible angles, lay in a puddle of blood on the ground. Blood was everywhere. The floor. The walls. All over Astarion’s mouth, dripping down his chin and his neck, covering his hands. The front of his shirt was soaked with it. Which was all quite uncharacteristic - he wasn’t a messy eater.

Astarion sat on a table in silence, his hands on his knees, smoking and contemplating the corpse.

“Where did that cigar come from?” she frowned.

“He had it on him,” he answered without looking up. “I figured why let it go to waste.”

His voice was dull, distant. He had gotten better over the years, though he still slipped back into this state sometimes, and when he did it was caused by one thing, and one thing only.

“Someone from the past..?”

Astarion took another drag and nodded, still not looking at her.

“One of Cazador’s guests. I remembered him. And he remembered me...”

He said the last sentence with a wince and a scowl, and Asmodea took a step towards him as her heart clenched, reaching out.

“My lo-”

“Don’t,” he said quietly but firmly, finally looking up at her.

“Alright,” she said, keeping her distance. “Okay.” She regarded the body again. “I guess let’s just try to figure out what to do with this corpse, then.” She ran her fingers through her hair, tugging on it hard. “You know, it’s almost funny - we used to leave corpses everywhere we went and it was no big deal. Remember the mercenaries we killed the moment we entered Rivington? No one gave a hoot. Now suddenly every time there’s a little bit of murder - it’s a big problem…”

Astarion silently took another drag and shut his eyes, listening to the sound of her voice, not really taking in anything she was saying, as she continued to blather.

“Astarion?”

His name on her lips got his attention, and he looked up at her again, questioningly.

“Did he have any friends waiting for him upstairs..? Is anyone going to come looking for him?”

Astarion shook his head.

“He said him being here was a big secret,” he managed. “Like he wouldn’t be caught dead at a place like this.”

For that, Asmodea kicked the corpse.

“Fucking cunt,” she spat.

That got a giggle out of Astarion.

“I have an idea,” she said. She was about to head back upstairs, but hesitated, looking at Astarion. “I don’t know if you realise, but you’re covered in blood,” she added softly. “Can you wait here for me?”

Astarion looked down to survey his clothing and hands.

“I’ve made a bit of a mess, haven’t I, darling?” he said absentmindedly. “His blood is filthy,” he added. “I shouldn’t have drunk it…”

“Well,” Asmodea said, thoughtfully, looking around them, “it’s a good thing most of it is outside of both of you, then.” She tried to smile at him reassuringly. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Thank you, love,” he said quietly.

Smoking, as Astarion had discovered by chance thanks to a practical joke by Halsin, was one of the few mortal indulgences that affected him whatsoever. He hated the smell of tobacco, detested the way it sank into his clothing and skin, and hardly ever partook, but it was undeniable that it had a calming effect on him. The shirt he was wearing would need to be burned now, anyway, and his skin was already soaked with other things that would need to be scrubbed away vigorously.

The cigar would have been calming, anyway, if all his senses hadn’t become razor sharp from the fresh sentient blood coursing through his body. In the dimness of the basement, he could make out every individual hair in the dead man’s scraggly beard. He could pick out and concentrate on individual sounds and voices within the thrum that was emanating from upstairs. The reek of piss and shit coming from the corpse was, unfortunately, also, enhanced. He wondered idly how many of Cazador’s victims had emptied their bowels in terror as they were dragged away by the ghouls or whilst being drained by him. Most of them, he hoped. It certainly put a damper on the experience. Astarion grimaced and forced himself to stop breathing aside from the inhales and exhales necessary for the cigar. After two centuries of trying to appear alive, breathing - redundant as it was - was a difficult habit to break.

He had bumped into other attendees of Cazador’s ‘events’ before. He hadn’t cared much for most of them. They usually avoided or pretended not to recognise him – perhaps not wanting to be acknowledged in turn, or trying to afford him some dignity. Perhaps they assumed his involvement with Cazador had been a temporary arrangement, and that he had simply done well for himself and managed to get out of that line of work. He didn’t dwell on it.

It was unpleasant, yes, but decades and centuries of dissociating and distancing himself from whatever had been occurring at the time had blissfully blurred his memory and glazed over any details, and granted him a near apathy.

He couldn’t remember many of the details of what took place over the years. Rather, he remembered his emotions, the feelings caused by his experiences, and the mental contortions with which he tried to cope. Though he couldn’t make a proper timeline of his descent into whatever he had become, he remembered the progression.

He had tried to enjoy it, at first. Tried to act like it was his choice. Tried to make the best of it. That didn’t last.

When that failed, he continued to hold on to his mortal persona for some time - still being Astarion, the Astarion he had been when he lived - but under the guise of a world-weary, wisened, sardonic whore. It wasn’t easy. He could barely remember himself prior to vampirism now, but he knew that magistrate-Astarion and whore-Astarion were a grotesque and unnatural concoction. He couldn’t keep that up for long, either.

And so, in his mind, he became an actor, putting on his best show. He was a good actor, he told himself, a great and dedicated one - so dedicated that he didn’t ever break character, but simply went on through his days and nights, playing the role. All the while waiting for the curtain to fall, to finally be able to remove the mask, look around him, and ask, incredulously: ‘Now wasn’t that something..? Did you see me? Can you believe I had it in me? Wasn’t I magnificent?’.

He still tried to please, back then. Still hoped to achieve some reward for his efforts. Still thought that if only he was good, if only he did better, something would improve. It had to improve, didn’t it..? He couldn’t have been stuck going through the same motions perpetually, night after night, with occasional breaks in the routine only to be subjected to creative humiliation and torture? It had to come to an end, eventually? There had to be some meaning to it all?!

The idea of the actor was eventually set aside, together with his hope. This was when he finally stopped praying to any gods, too.

No curtain would fall. No salvation or recognition would come. There was no meaning or purpose. This was simply his existence now.

He accepted that he was to be a puppet. Less than a slave. Less than a dog.

There was some solace in that - if he had no agency, he could not be held responsible for any of his actions. He didn’t belong to himself. He could stop caring.

Once he set aside his scruples, he strove to remove chance and effort from his nightly hunts. He worked out the optimal routines - his mind a winding flowchart of possible lines and actions, their corresponding gestures and expressions, and all their possible outcomes. He was barely there - only enough to steer his body or to react accordingly to anything unforeseen or out of the ordinary. As the years went by, there were fewer and fewer such situations - his marks had always been so predictable…

He applied the same to sexual acts. He honed and perfected. Whatever needed to be done, he would do, and he would do it flawlessly. He was talented, he had discovered, and, though he was more akin to a potter glazing his 1000th urn than to a sculptor producing a masterpiece, he found some measure of a twisted fulfilment in his craft - a certain pride, not at what he was doing, but rather at the very fact that he could do it, and how well he did it. He may have been a tool, but he was the best tool for the job.

A part of him always remained tucked away somewhere in a corner of his mind, seething with rage and hatred – at Cazador, at the gods, at his siblings, at his targets and his own self – and waiting.

There was a certain comfort and dignity in this distancing.

In the meantime, no matter what was happening, it wasn’t him, and it wasn’t happening to him. It was just his body being used as Cazador’s marionette. It could speak and move on its own, but it wasn’t him. Never him. He was elsewhere, behind an impenetrable shield. Until he wasn’t.

Instances that managed to drag him out of that hidden corner were always disastrous. It happened less often as the years went by.

One such incident was the gur children. No matter how many times he repeated to himself that he had no choice but to follow direct orders, the guilt and shame he felt would not leave him. 

Or the occasional sweet and innocent victims he chose to woo and take back to Cazador, in place of the usual filthy and vulgar vagrants he typically went for. The ones that died for no reason other than him wanting to touch someone clean for a change, someone who would be gentle and timid. They still filled him with remorse. 

And then, for entirely different reasons, there was this bastard whose cadaver was now sprawled on the basement floor with its throat torn out.

They’d ‘met’ not long before Astarion was snatched by the nautiloid. He was some minor patriar that Cazador had deemed useful enough and wanted a favour from. And so, as a gesture of goodwill, Astarion had been lent out to him.

That, in and of itself, wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, and Astarion had barely batted an eye at the arrangement - indeed it was sometimes a welcome change. It meant that he might get to sleep on clean sheets for a change, and that he wouldn’t have to go out into the city and make an effort to find a victim, if nothing else.

The man had turned out to be a sadistic psychopath that had never intended to return Astarion to Cazador to begin with. Accustomed to facing no repercussions for his actions, he assumed he could simply pay Cazador for the broken toy that was too damaged to return; instead keeping it to do with as he pleased, to discard once he grew bored of it.

In a way, his sadistic inclinations had turned out to be a blessing in disguise. He wanted to take his time. So much so, that by the time he was finishing with the first round, he hadn’t yet inflicted any irreversible damage. Astarion’s regeneration was noted as a curiosity, but written off as some kind of unknown magic.

At an opportune moment when he was left alone, utilising a habitual disregard for dislocated joints and torn flesh, Astarion managed to escape.

He ran and crawled, shaken and terrified, weeping, to Cazador. For protection.

This was the part that he could not erase from his mind. Being reduced to seeking aid from his very tormentor. Begging him for reprieve and rescue from the hands of another.

Protection was, indeed, provided, if only to prevent one of Cazador’s possessions from being permanently mutilated. Astarion was still punished for disobeying, as a matter of principle, but at that point Godey’s ministrations were almost a welcome relief. It was good to be ‘home’.

The fragments of his shattered ego and self-respect, which by that point had already been fractured and glued back together so many times he’d lost count, took much longer to rebuild than his broken skin and bones.

Well, Cazador was dead now, as was this dirtbag. Astarion only wished he hadn’t died so quickly.

Astarion took another slow drag, letting the smoke linger in his mouth.

He missed Halsin, he realised.

The scent of the cigar’s smoke was enough to bring up memories of the druid, yet different enough in flavour to whatever Halsin had favoured smoking to highlight that no matter what Astarion wished at that time, he was not there with him.

Yes, he missed him sorely in that moment.

He missed the calm assuredness and endless empathy. His impossibly unabashed way of being open and genuine. The infuriating way in which Halsin made him want to be better. He missed his stupid tree trunk arms and the warmth of his ridiculous, decidedly unelflike, hairy chest, too. The judgment-free comfort of it all.

Astarion was by no means a small or weak man, especially for an elf, but there was something about being made to feel delicate in comparison to someone else, in a way which did not imply danger but rather highlighted the safety and security one was in, which gave an unparalleled measure of peace.

He loved Oddie with all his being, but some qualities she simply did not possess.

Where was she, anyway?

He had no idea how much time had passed. He took a look at his surroundings, as though abruptly sobering up from a stint of hazy inebriation.

The blood was drying, and felt cold and tacky on his skin, beginning to itch. He felt unclean. He had torn at the man’s throat by instinct, without thinking it through, and now regretted it. The thought that his blood was now inside of him, part of him made him want to retch.

Was he forever intertwined with Astarion now?

Had Cazador carried borrowed parts of 7,000 souls within himself? Were these fragments released back to their original owners upon his demise? Were they made whole again then?

Was he whole?

Astarion took another drag, and froze.

He could have tested whether he was capable of creating his own spawn on this wretch. He might have had him as his own. Had him grovel at his feet, had him listen to his every word with bated breath, followed every command. Who better, than this scum?

Well. It was too late now.

He exhaled.

Oddie would have found out then, as well. And potentially every other vampire they ever encountered.

No.

Astarion shut his eyes.

No, he repeated to himself.

Astarion heard the sounds of an animated conversation and looked up, bemused, when he realised who it was Oddie thought to bring down with her.

Well… That’s certainly thinking outside the casket.

Lucretious cut herself off mid-word once she came into view of the murder scene. She looked at the corpse, looked at Astarion, looked at Asmodea, looked back at the corpse, her eyebrows rising, impossibly, even higher on her forehead, before looking at Astarion again, placing a hand on her hip and tutting.

“Don’t you know that smoking kills, love? You better put that filthy thing out.”

Astarion obliged the necromancer.

The Circus of the Last Days was back in town, and Lucretious had been making guest appearances at the theatre - in part to promote her circus, in part to enjoy a change of scenery and audience.

“I hope you didn’t bring me here to ask if I can put him back together the way he was before - you’ve had a bit too much fun with him for that.”

“Hmm? Oh, no, no, we’re err… quite happy to see him in the state he’s in, actually,” said Asmodea.

“That’s a relief, I make an awful mortician. Did you perhaps want a new waiter then? His head may need to remain backwards, but that’s half the charm of it, if you ask me.”

“Actually, I was wondering if perhaps you might want him.”

“Ah! Oh my!” the necromancer said, considering the body more closely now. “All this, for me? Darling, you shouldn’t have!”

She approached the body, and carefully nudged it with the toe of her boot.

“Not to look into a gifted horse’s mouth, but I do prefer my men more stiff. This one’s still oozing.”

“I would not presume to provide you with a gift in this condition, of course,” Asmodea said, carefully. “I simply could not allow it to come into your possession in this state. It would first need to be… peeled. And cleaned. Until it’s completely unrecognisable.” She looked at Lucretious questioningly.

“I see…” the necromancer said, thoughtfully. “I can concoct a little something I call my ‘piranha solution’ - will strip the flesh straight off the bone. It’s all highly toxic, of course… Does that gentleman with the… lights and explosions,” she said, referring to Matrim, “live here? You will want to move him elsewhere, unless you’re not particularly fond of him either. In fact, close the whole theatre on some pretence for a day or two, if you can.”

“If you pull on those two torches, you will unlock a passage into the sewers. I don’t suppose-”

“Say no more,” Lucretious waved her hand dismissively. “Lucille, Jacob and Boris won’t mind. I’ll take over once they’re finished.”

Asmodea breathed a sigh of relief.

“I don’t know how we could possibly repay you.”

“Please, darling,” Lucretious laughed. “A new servant, and I didn’t even need to rob a grave to get them. I’ll put the bones into a luggage when I’m done, so no one wonders why I entered with three skeletons and am leaving with four, and everyone will be none the wiser.”

Later that night, Asmodea sat on the edge of the tub as Astarion scrubbed vigorously at his already pristine hands.

“We will have fists and investigators breathing down our necks in no time,” she sighed.

“It doesn’t matter,” Astarion said absentmindedly.

“Of course it matters! You and I may be professional liars, but can you guarantee that all the guests and everyone who works here will say the right thing if questioned?!”

“It doesn’t. Matter,” Astarion repeated with a scowl. “Fists and investigators can be bribed, witnesses can be coerced into silence, no one will ever find the body now, and even should all else fail, we will have Wyll on our side.”

Asmodea winced. When had she become that which she had always despised?

“He was a patriar,” she reminded Astarion.

“And believe me, his family will be very happy he’s dead,” he said, finally letting go of the soap. “They might initiate a cursory investigation after some time, for appearances, but they will only be relieved when nothing turns up.”

“I hope you’re right…” she said. “But now we have to leave the city for some time, within the tenday if it can be helped. I’d rather not be here if that flying elephant shows up.”

Astarion only leaned back against the tub and nodded.

“How did you get him down there, anyway?” she asked as they lay in bed later.

“Why that was the simplest thing in the world.” Astarion snorted with contempt. “I told him there was a more exclusive club downstairs.”

“And he believed you..? He honestly did whatever it was he did to you, and then thought that you would willingly offer him more..?!”

“Of course he did. His kind think that everything in the world is made for them. He walked there himself. All I had to do was kick him down the stairs.”

Part 9

Thank you for reading!

Find the fic on AO3 as well.

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[wilchur]

Saw some people on tiktok complaining about Astarion's reaction to Durge refusing Bhaal being harsh, not sweet enough and somewhat off-tone, but to me it's literally perfect?

(reaction in question)

I will straight-up die on the hill that spawn Astarion has all the right to be a bit bitter about Durge having their life fixed just like that because they're cool and brave and stood up to Dad. Because he did all the "right" things too didn't he? Yet he still has to deal with vampirism and once the tadpoles are gone will be confined to the darkness of the night again unless someone helps him figure out a solution. I don't get why people expect him to act all mature and therapeutised just because his personal quest is dealt with. Like I'm sorry, but you didn't fix him. Set him on a better path maybe, but he's been very openly disapproving of acts of heroism the entire game precisely because he's never been "lucky" enough to be on the receiving end. That doesn't just go away. Even if he didn't actually lash out a bit in game, I'd still headcanon the entire thing coming up eventually as an issue/argument in the future for Durge and Astarion who are in a romantic relationship. He might not be angry or resentful of Durge, but he's very much not pleased at the universe for getting the short end of the stick as always. And I think he's entitled on it, it is not fair.

Additionally (to me) this is perfect meta commentary on just how much this route sucks narratively. Putting aside the fact that the game is afraid to make The Urge be an actual game-changing mechanic that adds difficult dice rolls, debuffs etc so that it feels more like an actual thing your character is struggling to overcome, you can be an absolute CUNT the entire game and still get this ending. No matter how many people you kill, what you say, how you act, in the end Withers will come and wave his wand anyways. Even with the tadpoles that are famous for having little effect on the story.. gobbling them up like there's no tomorrow will still have a consequence, and unless you're fine with save-scumming it has the potential to be a Big Thing. Hells, you make one poor dialogue choice with Gale and he will end up dumping your ass at the end of the game. Durge gets off scot free. I hate it. Astarion is right.

[podcastenthusiast]

First part of a Astarion/Karlach thing I'm writing. Basically a little rewrite of some Act 3 scenes. Could become something bigger, who knows.

--

"Well, at least you've met my family now," Astarion says. "Pity. You and Violet would get on quite well. Haha."

His tone is light and dismissive, especially for a midnight familial attempted kidnapping. But there's a desperate edge to it, too, like he's worried she might finally see sense and run for the hills.

Karlach's never been accused of being sensible. If Astarion burning his brother in a sunbeam while his sister screamed didn't scare her off, this little evening interruption sure won't.

Karlach does hope she will have a chance to meet his siblings properly, once they're all free.

"I wouldn't've let them take you anywhere," she vows, chest heaving, still very much caught up in protective Mama K mode.

"I know. Deep breaths, darling."

Astarion still looks wary, as if he's expecting the other shoe to drop. She can't cool down, she realizes, not yet, because she's still angry.

Angry at him.

"You lied to them. About the ritual. Like it was easy."

He scoffs. "It was easy. They aren't exactly the brightest candles in the chandelier, you know."

"You're really gonna sacrifice your own brothers and sisters? Betray their trust in you like--like they're nothing." Like Gortash did, she thinks but doesn't say. There are some words you can't take back. She loves this pasty bastard too much to actually believe he'd go through with it, anyway.

"What does it matter? They're just my...colleagues in suffering. Expendable. Pathetic." Oh, Astarion's giving her the old monster routine, one of his thinner disguises. She can see the aelf-loathing clesrly beneath without even really trying. "And let's not forget they are vampire spawn. Hardly innocent."

"Fuck, Astarion, none of us are! You only give a shit about yourself, huh?"

"Why not? No one ever looked out for me. No one ever said a kind thing to me. You're the only one," he insists, getting a bit heated himself now. "Other people don't have a heart like you."

"Damn right, soldier," she replies quietly, tapping a fist against her engine as it ticks and whirs her numbered days away. The rage fades. "Sort of the problem, isn't it."

"I-- shit, Karlach, I didn't mean--"

There he is.

"Hey. It's all right."

It isn't, not really. Nothing is all right anymore. But they will be.

Karlach just can't be the only good thing he sees in this world. It's not fair to either of them. Gods only know how much more time she even has left, besides; Astarion shouldnt be alone, not after everything he's been through. She needs him to be okay without her, selfish as it is.

"Scares me when you talk like that," she admits. "Like other people are just things to you."

"I'm sorry, Karlach," he says, miserably. "I don't know if I can be anything else, here."

Karlach's mother always told her to never go to bed angry. After ten years in the Hells, it felt pointless and silly, but tonight with his siblings' blood staining the floor, she thinks she might understand the wisdom in that advice.

"C'mere, Fangs."

She opens her arms. Always gives him a choice; touch is complicated for both of them in a lot of ways. And, yeah, there's her cuddly Astarion after all. Must be exhausting pretending to something he's not all the time. Thought so since she met him that day by the river. All those masks and yet none seems to fit quite right. She knows the feeling, more or less.

"You're loved, you hear me?" she tells him. "So fucking loved."

His skin is a pleasant balm; hers is still smoldering a little. They don't let go.

"You make things so difficult," he complains softly against her collarbone, affectionate despite the actual words.

"Knew this wasn't gonna be easy. But I swear, tomorrow we'll kick Cazador's ass," she murmurs, holding him tighter. "I've got you."

"Ugh. Get a room, you two," Shadowheart grumbles from her bed.

They have a room, though. This room. The others will simply have to deal with that.

It's gonna be okay.

[dmbakura]

Would you say AA has this sense of thinking he /needs/ to be like Cazador, because that's "what works" and what's "safe"? Like this is who he has to be, and nothing else is viable? That's how I interpreted AA's masking (especially during his sex scene, it seems very insincere and more like what he thinks he needs to be than what he wants) and I can't really make it work with Neil's statements honestly.

I also think he's very much capable of cruelty but the way AA acts is something else entirely to me because it's so goofily a Stereotypical Cartoon Villain Big Bad Sexy Vampire which doesn't really come across as honest in the way, let's say, Gortash's antics seem honest from what we know of the character. Maybe I'm misinterpreting what masking means, idk. I'm definitely not saying it's not honest that he wants to do all that power-hungry shit and that he's secretly a pure tortured soul because that's a lame ass reading that contradicts canon but everything about how he carries himself is so uncanny and all those underlying themes of being really fucking afraid and unable to face what happened/running away from it don't lead me to believe he's living an authentic life, more like he's trapped inside himself.

I don't really see how this contradicts anything Neil said. He never says AA is Astarion's most authentic self at all, or even that he's healthy and confident, only that he stops masking with theatrical deflections.

You also have to account for the supernatural element here too. In dnd lore, most true vampires basically succumb to personality rot and become paranoid and obsessive scheming freaks. I know the 'vampire ascendant' is a new thing and bg3 plays with the lore a bit more but considering this is alluded to by Astarion AND Cazador and heavily reflected in AAs behavior, I'm willing to believe that the vampire ascendant is literally just that but on steroids. Hence the cartoonish behavior lol

Astarion's a complex character. A lot of his arc is a question about how trauma can shape a person and what remains (if anything) after they've gone through something inconceivable, and if they can move past it and reclaim an identity for themself. I don't think it's a coincidence that his background is mostly vague and we don't actually know the kind of person he was before he was turned (unlike *those* fans, I also don't believe 'corrupt magistrate' means he was 'always destined to be evil' or some nonsense like that.) So much of his character is informed by the choices made in the game and how the experiences shape his worldview. He's by far the most dynamic character in the game and people want there to be a simple answer to his character (whether that be 'he's a poor uwu baby who did nothing wrong' or 'he's always been irredeemably evil and is incapable of change') when the reality is there just isn't one.

All this to say, same as what I've been saying from the beginning, both endings for him serve a purpose. They're two sides of the same coin for his character. They are both true to Astarion and his development and they're meant to contrast in ways that make you think deeper about him and his story. They absolutely cannot be taken in a vacuum and I am just so annoyed with people not engaging with the story on this level and wanting there to be simple moral platitudes to everything because they're uncomfortable with complexity.

[eff-plays]

How do you feel about Wyll's views on his father not changing at all? I felt kinda weird listening to Wyll literally tell his dad "there's nothing to forgive" like he was apologizing for casting out his teenaged son and Wyll's like NAh. He feels the same about that whole situation as he did at the start of the game, I think I would've preferred some sort of change or development? not even something big but denying his fathers apology feels weird, even "I understand and respect why he did it but I wish he just listened instead of assuming I had anything but good intentions" ?? Like he was 17 when he made a deal with a devil to save the city, and he did!!!! But maybe that's just cause I'm mad that Ulders first words after being saved are shitting on Tav for his son being a demon lmaoooo

what are your thoughts on it if you have any xoxo

I have thots, but disclaimers upfront because I will be talking out of my ass for most of this:

All the D&D I've played have been in entirely homebrew worlds, because most of my friends are also writers or at least worldbuilders. So I have no previous experience with the Forgotten Realms or its canon, i.e. I had no idea who Ulder Ravengard was and why Wyll being his son was a big deal, though I assumed he was someone very important.

I never actually um. Finished Act 3. Yeah, I uninstalled the game before I finished it lmao. I kept thinking "oh I'll come back to it once Larian have fixed it!" *looks into the camera like I'm on The Office* I finished Karlach, Astarion, and Wyll's quests, though I didn't start the Ansur part of it because it felt kinda random, and obviously I knew we wouldn't be getting a cool epic dragon for an ally, so I decided to leave that bit for later with the other bigger companion quests like Lae'zel's, Shart's, and Gale's. Jokes on me, right?

But I did save Ulder with Wyll, and did pick the one option to show via tadpole that Wyll is a good sweet boy. And I got the underwhelming "nothing to forgive" reunion. So I do know that part.

I played only like. An hour of early access. And then dropped it and uninstalled the game because it didn't grab me. I certainly didn't meet Wyll, and even if I had, I think it would've been post-rewrites.

Okay, now onto my actual thots. It's extremely long lmao I love yapping.

First of all, I think Ulder disowning Wyll could have actually worked quite well if they'd kept old Wyll, who I hear was kind of an obnoxious, arrogant dude. Like, if your teen son is a bit of a knob, and you're the most important nobleman/politician in an important city, then it "makes sense" to disown him as a disciplinary measure. You know he can take care of himself, you know he's capable of greatness, but he's a bit of a dickhead and needs to grow up. So tell him to leave and maybe in a few years he'll sort himself out. It's fucked up, but it's the sort of thing I can see a guy in this situation and in this world do.

BUT. Wyll isn't an arrogant and obnoxious dude. He's very mature, very kind, and always well-meaning. Nothing indicates this was different when he was a teen. So Ulder disowning him feels disproportionately cruel from the start, and it is, but it also feels like it comes out of nowhere and makes Ulder looks less like a strict parent and a politician doing what he thinks is the best out in a bad situation, and more like ... well, like a fucking asshole. Hence why it feels so fucking unfair and unfinished that Wyll just forgives him, or rather says there's nothing to forgive? It feels like Wyll constantly has to take on the role of the adult, of the emotionally mature one, of the one who is too good-hearted and understanding to ever feel anything negative, while his garbage dad gets to just be a douchebag towards his son without much cause or consequence.

Furthermore, we never get the sense that Ulder feels bad or regrets what he did, or that he's at least conflicted, even with his apology. It's just "Yeah I disowned my son. No I don't expect him to come back better in any way." And then he flips on a dime after a single conversation, so his decision to disown Wyll feels like it was easily undone and not of any consequence. Wyll forgiving him immediately feels just very unearned, and like the narrative itself frames Ulder's actions as understandable? (On that note, showing Ulder some tadpole visions to prove Wyll is good, I prommy, feels so cheap? Like y'all really did that, huh? And Ulder, who assumed the worst when his beloved son showed up in a warlock pact, would just take the vague visions of a stranger when his son looks like a saucy incubus? Ok.)

Now, if Larian had wanted to stick with this, I think it could've worked this way if Wyll was afforded any sort of emotional depth. Like, if Wyll said "there's nothing to forgive" initially, because he loves and deeply respects his father and thinks, logically, that what he did was right, so he tries to justify it to himself in order for that cruel act to make sense. But then he realizes that it still hurts, that it was unfair, that it was cruel, and that he can't forgive his dad, not this easily at least. That initial "nothing to forgive" would've worked excellently as a kneejerk reaction, a defense mechanism, and something for him to later retract when he realizes that "nothing to forgive" means "nothing you do would make me forgive you". That would've been juicy as FUCK.

If Larian had instead wanted to afford Ulder more depth and make us understand his actions (which they wanted to do with Wyll saying there's nothing to forgive, signalling to us that Ulder in some ways was justified), then they should've made Wyll a huge brat as a younger teen. If they'd done that, we as modern players would still find it a bit unfair, but a nobleman disowning his rowdy-ass son for taking an escapade a step to far, to teach him a lesson? That makes sense, doesn't it? It would've been a strict parent thing to do, but assuming Ulder knew his son would make it on his own, cutting him off from the privilege that's turning him into a dickhead would be a sensible course of action. If that's what happened, then it would've also made sense for Ulder to immediately get pissed off when he saw Wyll transformed, because he'd assume that his cringefail son didn't learn his lesson at all. AND it would've made sense for Wyll to say there's nothing to forgive: because he knows he used to be a huge fucking brat, and his Mizora thing would've just looked like another prank Youtuber oopsie to Ulder, who had no reason to believe otherwise.

Now, Larian did neither of these things, or rather, tried to do both without actually committing, because then it would make one of the two look "bad" (i.e. like a real flawed human being). That's why it ends up feeling incongruent and, say it with me now, unfinished. There is no logical progression to their actions, because, say it with me now, nobody bothered to give them consistent motivations or depth.

Here's the two plots laid out in order to illustrate what I think would be logical courses of actions for both characters, compared to what Larian actually did:

1

Wyll is a baby boy, baby > Ulder is a ruthless politician who's obsessed with his image > Wyll steps into dogshit (Mizora) and smells funny now, but can't explain where the smell is coming from > All the nobles are like "ew this stinks lmfao" > Ulder decides to disown his son for the sake of his power and image, justifying it to Wyll by saying it's what he owes to the people of Baldur's Gate > Wyll comes back, still baby boy, baby, but with horns now > Ulder is horrified about what this might do to his image again and tells him to fuck off > Tav shows him that Wyll is badass now and was always badass, stopped the cult of Tiamat etc > Ulder's politician brain fires up again and he realizes his son might be GOOD for his image, apologizes for disowning him > Wyll, still trying to tell himself his father did the right thing, says there's nothing to forgive > Realizes later that what Ulder did was fucked up and retracts his forgiveness > Ulder now has to figure out his priorities and relationship with his son while Wyll has asserted his autonomy and personhood.

2

Wyll is a known rich brat > Wyll steps into dogshit (Mizora) and smells funny now, but can't explain where the smell is coming from > Ulder is fucking tired of his son's dogshit shenanigans and disowns him for his own good > Wyll travels the world to become a cool hero dude, but gets turned into a devil so he looks bad > Ulder assumes his cringefail son is still cringefail > Realizes he's not cringefail anymore and apologizes for disowning him in that very vulnerable moment when he needed him most > Wyll says it's ok because he was indeed a massive brat who took it a step too far, and Ulder had no way of knowing his crying wolf was real this time > Flawed but happy family!!

3 (canon)

Wyll is a baby boy, baby > Wyll steps into dogshit (Mizora) and smells funny now, but can't explain where the smell is coming from > Ulder assumes his baby boy son did a prank youtuber oopsie and decides to disown his son for the sake of his power and image?? > Wyll comes back, still baby boy, but with horns now > Ulder assumes his baby boy son is cringefail??? > Tav shows him that Wyll is badass now and was always badass, stopped the cult of Tiamat etc > Ulder realizes only now that Wyll was never cringefail ?? and apologizes for disowning him because he actually loves him > Wyll says it's ok ?? > Everything is fine and back to normal, nobody did an oopsie and nothing changed.

Y'see what I mean???

And the thing is, given that I was able to piece together what they were going for and two entire potential angles that could've worked excellently, it's clear that there are bits of potential, little inklings of what could have been, but the writer just didn't bother exploring deeper at all? Like they had some ideas that they threw at the wall and then didn't rewrite or think about them at all. It feels like a first draft of a character's story, where you have some ideas but haven't figured out the overall structure or progression of events. Instead you just throw in everything you have and pretend that's a finished story and that the inconsistencies are just "depth" and "nuance", when in reality, you're just asking the player to fill in the gaps you couldn't be bothered with, and when they can't do that because it makes no damn sense, you just ignore them lol.

Um. Yeah. Those are my thots, lmao.

It's just unfinished. That's what it is. Straight up!!!

[aldryrththerainbowheart]

My thoughtsabout Baldur's Gate 3 after 50 hours of playthrough

Love that this game gives you not only class and race dialogue options but SUBCLASS dialogue options too

Enjoy playing as a paladin no problems with oath-breaking whatsoever, everybody rolling eyes at my do-goody ass

especially playing as oath of the ancients is like "in the name of trees and lakes and birds - fuck you"

made a shocking discovery that romancing companions is truly secondary and I'm just happy to survive

Astarion tolerates me and I'm afraid there's no hope for me in this playthrough but honestly, I don't really care I just want my boy safe and cared for, whether as a partner or just a friend is truly secondary

he's even more cat-coded than I thought

kind of glad he won't propose to me at the party because we legit know each other for FOUR DAYS! Like- Sir!

Lae'zel is amazing, wonderful, and showstopping wtf is people's problem with her. She's rude? Please. She's a product of her environment. As far as Githyanki go she's the nicest of them all. I won't let anyone slander her on my watch.

Gale is a bit of an intellectual snob but he's a wizard so that's part of the package. I actually enjoy his ramblings, I could listen to him for hours. maybe I'm the weird one in that

During the goblin fight, I fell into a spider pit while casting a spell and running forward. Spend the rest of the fight plastered on the wall so the spiders won't notice me. The rest of my party had to search the entire temple for the key to get me out. Truly a full dnd experience at its finest.

Love reading the books just as much as I enjoy it in Genshin.

As cheesy as it is I love playing the hero.

I bend backward to save everyone, and it makes me really happy to keep as many people as possible alive. Yes, even Kagha, even hag spawns, even tiefling children.

I love all my companions equally but Astarion gets all the jewelry.

[crowcaws]

Wyll's not boring he just got shafted outta a really good man vs self storyline after killing Karlach where he could've lost his humanity after choosing to believe in a lie or fought a path to redeem himself by his own standards. Wyll has nothing to prove to anyone but himself and the idea of him losing faith in himself because of a passing act of human folly would've been so good but instead we got- "I defied a demon and did the right thing but I'm gonna be upset because I no longer look the the part of the hero but ope that's only one cutscene daddy issues instead" LIKE WYLL you're literally the most stable, sane and sexy person here I need you to grow or regress with the story your too perfect for my gremlin ass Tav. (He's so painfully out of everyones league it hurts like it's actually a problem that he's the only functional adult, like it's a stereotype he's the token support and he deserves a bit more than that )

Hello to you too anon 🤣 I pretty much agree with you, Wyll does have the weakest storyline when you put him next to all the other main six. Someone was going to have to wear that crown.

However I maintain that he's still a funny dude with a lot more pinache than people give him credit for -- and I think there's still a fair bit to his story that gets overlooked or dismissed by the fandom in general, based on what they wished/hoped it would be, instead of appreciating what it actually was.

Wyll's arc is the opposite to most of the other cast like Gale, Astarion, Shadowheart. All of them are faced with changing themselves and growing into different people throughout the story. Wyll's influence is the opposite: He has to fight to maintain who he is, when a very real force of evil is manipulating him into doing things that are unthinkable to him morally. If he kills Karlach, he loses himself. If he doesn't re-sign the contract, he loses his father, and Mizora makes it clear the blame will be on him, and he loses his reputation -- which he relies upon in order for the people of the Sword Coast to recognise and accept his help when he offers it. He could lose his father all over again. Constantly he's pushed into positions where he has to hold the weight of the world on his shoulders, and must maintain his integrity through it without angering Mizora, who will kill him if he steps too far out of line.

All his life he's had to make the tough choices and shoulder the consequences alone and unsung. He saved Baldur's Gate at sixteen years of age and was never allowed to tell anyone, and has been burdened with the devil because of it ever since. He lost his home. And the first thing he tells Tav is that he doesn't regret that for a second. He is the kind of person to take a bullet, and Mizora keeps trying to force him to be the one to pull the trigger.

I, personally, think that's interesting enough and a change of pace from the other three or four character arcs that are more of the "do you want to be nice and friendly, or an ambitious/aggressive/murderous wank?" variety. And to Wyll's credit, his personal quest has a way more to do with the overall plot of the game than Gale's and Astarion's do. (For the record I am absolutely a Gale and Astarion girlie so no hate)

Again, Wyll's still the weakest of the six, but one of them had to be. There are things I love about all of the main character arcs, and things I would change. And Wyll's still leagues ahead of Halsin, whose personal quest feels tacked on to a plot that seemed like it would have happened anyway without his input. I still hope that one day we get some bridging dialogue or updates in future patches that make Wyll's arc a little bit more impactful and cohesive. I would also love if they added a bit more banter/more scenes with Karlach and Wyll becoming friends and bonding.