#and i know they said they got to write FOR astarion which is why it happened

[lelianaslefthand]

the more i think about That post from the durge writer the more mad i get. i’m not gonna go into everything like kekeing about crunch it’s all already been said but how can you admit to giving MONTHS of attention to one character and not any of the others and just be like “teehee 🤭” as a writer working on a game you shouldn’t be that biased bc the game isn’t for you specifically and larian shouldn’t have even allowed that in the first place especially with how unpolished so many other companion interactions are

[ghost-proofbaby]

fictional boyfriends (e.m.)

summary: eddie gets jealous of your newest fictional boyfriend from a game he got you into.

warnings: kinda sweet. kinda cringe. eddie is jealous of astarion. twilight reference jumpscare. not edited. biting and vague mentions of sex at the end.

wc: 2.5k+

a/n: this is the dumbest, cringiest thing i have ever written. but on this side of town, we embrace the cringe <3 happy valentine's day, enjoy me combining my current favorite fictional men (astarion and eddie) for my own personal delight. maybe one day i'll write a serious fic regarding the biting kink

It’s not that biting had ever been off the table with Eddie, per se.

Nips between kisses, using a little more teeth when he’d kiss across your neck, a joking sinking of your teeth into his shoulder when you were vying for his attention — they were all normal occurrences between the two of you. There was just never much discussion about it. No conversation explicitly had in which the two of you said, “Why, yes. This is something I’d like to bring into the bedroom.” 

Until that damn game.

When Eddie introduced you to Baldur’s Gate 3, the last thing he expected was to watch all your free time you used to spend pestering him suddenly handed over to some fictional vampire. He thought it’d be a game you tried, grew tired of, lost interest in, and that was that. Nothing more, nothing less. He didn’t expect a sudden competition for your goddamn affections. 

“Baby, please come to bed,” he all but whines as he drapes himself over your shoulders, trying to nudge off your headphones. He could feel just how warm your ears had grown beneath them. He swears he can feel your back crack from the slightest bit of his weight on your shoulders. And, sue him — he was tired and he wanted to cuddle. 

“One more minute,” you mumble the same phrase to him that he has used a million times on you; he instantly knows it’ll be far more than just sixty more seconds if he agrees, “Let me just finish this-“

“No,” he’s still whining, but it’s more stern now as he properly removes your headset, earning a glare from your bloodshot eyes, “You’ve been playing this game all afternoon, sweetheart. I think I might die if you don’t offer me some immediate attention. Truly.”

For emphasis, he lays more of his body weight on you, your chair creaking from holding up both of you now. 

“Eddie,” you moan out, wiggling beneath his dead-weight, “I swear to God, get off of me-“

“I’ll get off of you if you come to bed.”

You pause. Your hands hover near your keyboard and mouse, but you’re no longer walking your avatar across the world of Baldur’s Gate, and he knows he has you considering it.

More weight. More groans. At this rate, he’s questioning if your chair won’t break from his outrageous method to get your attention. 

“Fine.” 

The small yes he lets out only earns him a punch to the shoulder. But it gets you off the game, and that’s still a win for him.

He doesn’t even care about appearing over eager as you follow him back to the bedroom. He’s gone as far as preparing the bed, pillows fluffed and comforted pulled back while awaiting your arrival. He’s already washed his face and brushed his teeth (something he usually fights you on as you nag him before bed), and the moment he’s got you in the room with him, he’s dragging you right onto the mattress with him.

“You’re gonna hurt us!” you yelp as he wraps his arms around you and flops down, dragging you with him, but it’s through a laugh. He knows you really couldn’t care less — he’d never deliberately injure you, irritated about your newest fictional boyfriend or not. 

“Oh, no,” he mocks, rolling so you’re laying on top of him, “What ever will you do if I injure one of your precious wrists, and you can’t use it to flirt with your new boy toy tomorrow?” 

“Astarion would be devastated,” you giggle into his chest, not moving off of him despite all your protests. It’s nice — to feel the full weight of you, to just get to bury his nose in the crown of your head as he shamelessly inhales the sweet lingering scent of your coconut shampoo, “He’s even needier than you.” 

“Yeah, ‘cause you serve as his functional juice box.”

“I do not!” you wiggle against him, and it only makes him tighten his arms, “He’s needy because he loves me.”

“Well that makes one of us.” 

Your head lifts off his chest in an instant, faux offense shadowing your features, “You tryin’ to say you don’t love me, Munson?”

He smirks, pressing his lips together tightly, making you huff in frustration. 

Of course he loves you. There wouldn’t be a ring in his sock drawer that he’s terrified of you finding if he didn’t. 

You pout, subtly and adorably so, starting to lift off of him, “If you’re going to be mean, I’m just going to go back to someone who appreciates me-“

“Mean?” he scoffs, enjoying himself far too much. He’s missed your attention, your affection. The effect it has on him is similar to a high, making him dizzy on serotonin as he rolls over and pins you between him and the mattress, “Oh, baby, that’s not me being mean. I can show you mean, if you want.” 

He’s always thought you looked prettiest like this. Under him, eyes wide as you look up at him as if he’s the only thing in this room worth looking at. Worth more than your prized bookshelf, more interesting than all the various posters the two of you have hung on the walls. You look at him as though he’s the greatest thing to exist in these four walls, and he doesn’t take it lightly when your favorite albums and candles are right there.

“You don’t have a mean bone in your body, Munson,” you whisper softly, face going soft for him. The two of you are still surely joking around, the playfulness of it all thick in the air, but there’s something genuine in your words that makes him even more enamored with you. 

He should have predicted you’d fall for Astarion when he showed you the game. You had a thing for people who put up the tough front, but who really just needed a little extra softness and patience under the surface. He was living proof of it.

Unlike your fictional vampire boyfriend. 

“Yeah?” he taunts, leaning down until the tip of his nose brushes yours. His hair works like a curtain, messy as ever as he shields the two of you from the outside world. One of your hands have crept up so that you palm rests against his cheek, and he can hardly remember that flare of jealousy that had gnawed at him when you’d spent your entire afternoon absorbed in the game instead of him, “I bet I could be meaner than Astarion. Although, I’m not sure just how mean that man has ever been to you, given all the war crimes you commit for his approval-“

He’s cut off when the thumb of the hand cradling his face trails up, pressing on his bottom lip. It only makes him grow even closer to you, pressing in, drawn by your touch.

You squint your eyes at him jokingly before cooing, “Someone sounds jealous.”

“Damn right,” he doesn’t even try to deny it, caught in the web of your trap with ease, “Does your pixelated lover even know what a catch he’s got?” 

You snort adorably at that. He pulls away to see the full force of your laughter, lifting up into his elbows to admire how your face scrunches with your smile. He bets Astarion would make some sarcastic comment about it — about the crinkles by your eyes that he aches to pepper with kisses, about the indents in your cheeks when you smile this wide, about the sound of your genuine laughter when you unrestrained and entirely comfortable like this. But there’s not a single joke forming on Eddie’s tongue. He’s all but hypnotized. 

God, he fucking loves you. So much so he’s jealous of a video game character.

“I’m not sure I’d consider this,” you lift the hand not holding him carefully still to motion at your current state of being, “A catch, my love.” 

He has to disagree. Messy hair or not, wrinkled pajamas or not.  You’re the greatest catch of this entire existence; not just Eddie’s, but the Universe’s. Nothing you could say or point out would deter him from this belief. He loves you, mess and all.

“My love?” he chooses to tease instead, all the words of affection threatening to choke him if he so much as considers letting them pour out, “I like the sound of that. If that’s the Astarion effect, maybe he isn’t so bad after all.”  

His elbows are sinking deeper into the mattress. With every passing second, his face is dropping closer to yours, and he’s not sure if it’s by instinct or choice. But when his lips finally brush yours, he decides it’s all the same — it doesn’t really matter what sort of gravity is at work here, as long as it keeps bringing him down closer to you.

“Shut up about the game and kiss me, Eddie.” 

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

The kiss is as sweet as ever. A comfortable dance that still sends shivers down his spine. If either of you looked closer at his arms bracketing your shoulders, you’d see the goosebumps raising as you eagerly returned all his affection.

You taste like the chocolates you’d been snacking on during your gaming. You taste like the greatest gift ever given, and he doesn’t care if he’s exaggerating or not. You’re divine — his favorite good morning and his only goodnight. 

And he’d say all that, but you’d probably accuse him of trying too hard to be like Astarion. Probably bring up that ridiculous line the character once said about you being made by the Gods, just to ruin him.

You were, though. Made by the Gods, specifically to ruin Eddie. Fuck the game. 

“You know,” he whispers against your lips, breaking for air as he adjusts positions. Your thighs open up and welcome him home, letting him slot right between your legs comfortably. He’s not trying to seduce you, but he can’t even be mad about it. He feels like a starved man now that your attention has been divided as of late, “If you wanted a lover who bites, all you had to do was ask, darling.” 

If you weren’t so wrapped up in the kisses he was pressing down your jaw and along your neck, you would have ripped him to shreds for the awful impersonation. 

But you’re already far gone, lost in his touches and his adorations. You let the half-assed attempt at a British accent slide, and you even bare your neck to him at the minute threat. 

Biting had never been off the table, per se, and Eddie was really fucking glad for it.

When he presses one, two, three greedy kisses to that sweet spot just below your ear, he has one intention in mind. Not his usual sucking and nipping and soothing, not leaving behind one of his ordinary love bites. No, he lets himself get caught up in the moment, and when he catches that quiver of excitement the moment he drags his teeth over your neck carefully, he’s fully committed to his decision.

He bites.

Not hard enough to draw blood, or even be terribly painful. He knows it’s nothing like the game or any of your subsequent fantasies you might have had from it. His canines are fairly dull, even as they dig carefully into the skin of your neck, holding for a moment for effect. But your legs tighten around his hips, and he almost wishes he was a damn vampire, able to actually pierce your skin in the moment. Drink your blood. Whatever the allure was with the origin companion.

You let out a soft gasp which has him keeping your skin between his teeth a few extra seconds, and then he’s letting go. Lifting his head and looking into your eyes, a silent exchange of is this okay?

If the glazed over look is anything to go off of, it’s more than okay.

He returns with reckless abandon, switching between his usual desperate kisses and the newer, sharper ones. He has one goal in mind: to mark you up as his, to the point in which you’ll be scolding him in the morning. It’s like a drug, to feel you writhe beneath him as he paints the picture. 

Love notes of freshly born bruises, the imprints of his teeth – a letter across your delicate skin that reads, he was here, and he loved you, more than anyone else in this Universe may ever be capable of. 

“If I had known how much biting would rile you up, I would’ve started doing it ages ago,” he mumbles into the crook of your neck, finally pausing his assault. 

He settles for softer presses of his lip, peppering the affection where he had been a bit more violent. 

Your hands that had taken to tangling into the curls at the nape of his neck have gone more relaxed, no longer tugging but instead just lingering. Pulling him closer. Touching him with softer hands than he’s ever felt deserving of. 

“Guess you’ve got a certain vampire to thank for that,” you tease, but he can hear just how breathless he’s left you. He had sworn he could feel the pulse of your facing heart beneath his lips, even if just for a moment. Even if he just imagined it. 

“Please. Astarion is not getting the credit for that,” he scoffs, lifting up onto his elbows again to just look at you. His lover, his favorite person. It’s nice to see your face when it’s not washed over with the cast of a computer screen. “That was all me. And even if it wasn’t, I won’t forget that you had a Twilight phase.” 

Your hand quickly drops between the two of you, only to smack at his chest. The thump holds no weight as you whine, “I told you that in confidence.” 

He dips down, capturing one last kiss, “It’s okay, baby. It’s good to know that you have a type.”

“I do not-”

He cuts you off with a more playful bite to your neck. Less about marking you, and more just to make a point. 

“Just,” another nip, “admit,” another graze of his teeth, “it.” 

You’re fighting a smile when he looks down at you again, impossible to hide behind your mask of annoyance. “I am not admitting that I have a thing for broody, pathetic vampires.” 

“Well, I’ve got broody and pathetic down-”

“Eddie,” your thighs still bracket him, one hand still clinging to the back of his neck. When you say his name, the game is over. “We can spend all night bickering over the fictional men I love, or you can give me a reason to forget their names. It’s up to you.” 

His eyebrows jump up his forehead, and he’s just about to give up the bit, but not before one last snide remark.

“Kind of hard to do that when I share a name with one of them, but as you wish, sweetheart.” 

Another bout of beautiful laughter from him. Another smack on the chest from you. It’s good – it’s everything Eddie has ever wanted, and it is good.

He does, of course, make you forget their names. And if you find it difficult to get out of bed the next moment, dramatically unable to make the walk to your gaming computer, well – he won’t try to hide his smug smile in between the soft rays of morning light.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog @vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp @princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

join my taglist!

[vixstarria]

Down by the river

Stand-alone, but takes place immediately after Mark me as yours

Astarion and Tav spend a night by the river, away from camp

Astarion x f!Tav, Astarion x f!Reader

18+ but I wouldn't call it smut, fluff and humour until you get smacked in the face with some trauma I guess, banter, pining, sexual references, oral sex

TW: trauma

I couldn't decide on a POV so I alternate Tav and Astarion in each section. "But Vix, why didn't you just write in 3rd person?" you might ask. Well, because I like really getting into their heads, and because shut up, that's why. It's pretty obvious which section is whose. You got this.

Approx. 2,000 words

AO3

“Come see me later tonight, there’s something I want to show you,” Astarion murmured to you as he passed by, lightly brushing your hip with his hand.  

You thought you’d already seen all he had to show by then. Still, you were curious.  

It turned out to be a ‘where’, not a ‘what’.  

“Stay here,” he told you, at the edge of the bank. “Don’t turn around until I tell you to.” 

He then disappeared somewhere in the trees behind you. Or so you assumed. He could be eerily silent when he wanted to be. 

You were a bit perplexed, truth be told. Astarion had turned out to be all talk and no show when it came to any kind of romantic gestures that didn’t directly involve sex. It couldn’t be that. Were you supposed to see something out on the water? It looked perfectly ordinary. Some kind of ridiculous prank, perhaps..? That would be right up his alley. 

You were starting to feel a bit stupid standing by yourself at the edge of the bank. Did he just walk away..? 

“Astarion, if you’re about to make another dramatic shirtless appearance from behind a tree, I swear-” 

It was dramatic alright. You didn’t hear him until he was a step behind you, flying towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind mid-sprint and sweeping you sideways into the river along with him. He’d taken the time to take his own clothes off, of course, and yours were now drenched. The prick.  

“You asshole, what if I didn’t know how to swim?!” you spat as you resurfaced next to him 

He just laughed. 

“Why I’d swiftly come to your rescue, darling.” 

Realization hit you.  

“...Shouldn’t you be melting..? Or disintegrating, or whatever it is that happens to your kind in running water?” Another gleeful toothy grin. “...Tadpole?” 

“Tadpole,” he nodded, making his way towards a spot shallow enough for your feet to touch the riverbed, as you followed. “I only discovered this earlier today.” 

“Awww... And you immediately had to find me and go ‘Mom, mom, look what I can do!’”  

You dove again just as he went to splash you in the face.  

“Adorable,” she smiled, once she re-emerged in front of you. 

“What is?” 

“You in moments when you look genuinely happy,” she said, removing her clothes and throwing them onto the bank. “Fangs peeking out from behind your lips, all murder and mischief.” 

You found yourself at a brief loss for words as she finished taking her clothes off and turned back to you, throwing her arms around your neck and wrapping her legs around your hips, clutching on to you weightlessly in the water. 

“I like seeing you happy...” 

Something in your chest clenched. 

No, no, no, no, no, this is not how this is supposed to work. 

Your body followed its instincts and you drew her into a kiss, hands roaming her thighs and hips under the water. 

“You know, you really didn’t need to go through all that trouble, getting my clothes soaked through, to get me to take them off,” she murmured as your lips broke away from hers to trace her jaw. 

“Oh I know...” you purred. “I didn’t need to throw you into the river to get you soaked, either.” 

You kissed her mouth again, grinning, to muffle the sounds of her annoyed protest. 

Your usual script, all your usual lines had been rolling off her like, well, water. Frankly it was a breath of fresh air. She picked apart your words, expressed exaggerated dismay or tried to one-up you, turning it into a game – but still, she did exactly what you needed her to do. All that mattered was the end result, no? And if you could have fun with it, all the better, you thought. Even if it was... different. 

You hand slipped further, between her legs, teasing her exposed slit as she gasped and clung to you tighter. 

Yes, you thought. This was familiar. This you knew what to do with.  

“Let’s get out of the water,” you murmured to him.  

Sex in lakes, rivers and hot springs was much more appealing on paper than it was in reality.  

Apparently Astarion had taken the time to prepare a few things this time, including some sheets and blankets that laid next to a prearranged campfire. 

‘Ignis!’ He lit it, immediately setting it ablaze. Warmth at last, you thought, wiping yourself off.  

“Thoughtful of you to get some blankets this time,” you said, sinking down next to him, close to the fire, letting him pull you against him. 

“...Is this about the night at the clearing again?” he asked, his eyes narrowed. 

“What else?” 

“I’ll have you know, I am civilised and had a whole spread all of five meters away from where we ended up! We could’ve moved there if you’d only stopped being a complete animal for a few seconds,” he said with a mixture of amusement and indignation. 

“No, no you didn’t... Did you? Oh gods... Why didn’t say anything?!” You burst into laughter, sinking against his chest. 

“The way you were carrying on, I figured you must have been half wood elf and enjoyed having needles stuck in your ass!” 

Unbelievable... How bloody absurd. 

You lifted your head once you’d finally regained your composure, grinning at him. The way he looked back at you was so full of tenderness that you were momentarily taken aback. But it couldn’t be. Not with him. 

“Tsk... ‘Civilised’,” you murmured. “Who wants that?” 

You caught his lips in a kiss, then dipped lower, starting to slowly trail open-mouthed kisses down his neck and past his collarbone, leaving gentle teasing bites on your way down. His breath hitched as he sank with his back down onto the blankets, his fingers tensing on your back.  

You ran your tongue between the ridges of his muscles as you went lower, idly wondering what kind of magistrate kept in this kind of shape, if this really was the way he looked before he was turned. His skin felt like silk over the hardness of his muscles. 

“What are you doing, you naughty thing..?” he breathed, hoarsely. 

“What do you think I’m doing?” you purred. “Or is it that you don’t like it..?” He was already hard for you. You teased his cock with just your fingertips before taking it into your hand, continuing to slowly kiss and lick your way down. “But I think you do.” 

“Oh you have no idea...” he whispered. 

It’s not that you haven’t been on the receiving end of this before. It’s that when you were, it was usually some slobbering drunk that reeked of piss, whom you wouldn’t want to touch with a ten-foot pole, much less have any body part inside of, disgusting and unpredictable, or when you were ordered to participate in some deranged bacchanalia you wanted no part of, with all its abasement and humiliation and having to act, always having to act, always the pretty boy, pretty 200 year old boy being passed around like some kind of doll, or the time with the- 

Oh for fuck’s sake, I just want to enjoy this! 

No one was forcing you to do this, this was your choice.  

‘...I like seeing you happy...’ 

It was her hand, it was her mouth, this was your choice. 

She wanted to pleasure you. She would never hurt you.  

‘...I like seeing you happy...’ 

Just fucking enjoy it, why can’t you just fucking enjoy it?! 

“Look at me, darling...” you reached down to touch her cheek with your fingertips.  

Anchor me... 

Astarion watched you for a while through his lashes, holding eye contact as you worked his cock with your mouth, before ultimately falling back and shutting his eyes. His hand moved to your hair, gripping it tightly. 

His whole body was wound up tight like a coil. You started to get the impression that he might push you away at any moment. Was he just over-sensitive..? You eased up the intensity of your motions – you would have stopped entirely, only he started to buck his hips, fucking your mouth as he groaned, the hand in your hair pushing and pulling on your head. 

Alright then, maybe not... 

You followed his lead until he started whispering something incoherent, jerking his hips more erratically. Before long, his grip on your hair tightened further, and he gasped your name several times, before finally spilling in your mouth.  

Never before has anyone made it seem like they were fighting for their life through what you thought was just a routine blowjob. You knew you weren’t that bad. Nor that good.  

Something told you you should call it a night.  

“Kiss me,” he whispered, pulling you back up, his hands wandering down before you stopped them. “No..?” 

He looked dazed. 

“Another time,” you said, kissing him lightly, before lying down in his embrace.  

“If that’s what you want,” he drawled. 

Nature got you there in the end, but the whole act was tainted, no matter how much you wanted to want it. You couldn’t ignore it or pretend you were unaffected anymore. Free, relatively safe, walking in the sun, leagues away from Baldur’s Gate, and still you were in a chokehold.  

You wanted to want it, gods how you wanted to... Maybe next time would be better? There would have to be a next time, wouldn’t there? 

You also wanted to scream. You hugged her tighter against you instead.  

Now put all this behind you and act normal, you wretch. 

You laid on his chest, gazing into the fire, edge of the blanket folded over the two of you. It was cozy and peaceful, and you could almost pretend that there was a semblance of normalcy to your life, and that you were just having a pleasant night with a lover. And that maybe you’d just imagined anything was off earlier.  

"You’re awfully quiet, what’s on your mind?” he asked, lightly tracing circles on your back.  

“Just contemplating the fact that blowing a vampire isn’t even the strangest thing I’ve done today,” you lied.  

Close enough. 

“We should head back I suppose, I doubt it’s safe out here in the open,” you said, reluctantly.  

“Darling, I assure you, I am the most dangerous creature to stalk the night in these parts,” he said in his usual flippant manner. 

“Yes, yes, you are a vicious, deadly beast,” you smiled. 

“Rawr,” he said matter-of-factly, as you buried your face in his neck in silent laughter. 

You slowly made your way back to the camp.  

You didn’t want to go. Didn’t want to lie awake, alone with nothing but your thoughts. She was contagious with her levity in her sweet ignorance, you didn’t want to part from her.  

“Did you end up fixing that teddy bear?” she asked. 

“Of course I did, did you think me incapable of mending a stuffed animal?” 

“Ah right, that’s why Karlach was chasing you around, threatening to hug you...” 

You chuckled. You’d never admit it, but you were actually growing fond of the hellish tiefling. She at least didn’t give you a wide berth like the others. 

“Can you do us all a favour and not leave me in camp wasting time on things like that all day again? I’m sure my skills would be more useful elsewhere.” 

I missed you. 

“Yes, Wyll and Gale did mention you were completely useless, if not downright destructive,” she smiled.  

You reached the camp and stood in front of your tent. Hers was further along.  

“I better go get some sleep,” she said.  

You gently pulled her against you by her waist, kissing her. 

Please just come in, stay with me, please... 

“Good night then,” your mouth said. 

“Night,” she whispered, before placing another soft kiss on your lips and walking away.  

Why didn’t I just pull her in after me..? Wretched idiot. 

Should’ve just made myself at home... Sigh. Fucking idiot... 

~~~~~

PS Astarion saying "rawr" is canon and I will stick it wherever I please.

Next in series - Something real

This work is part of a series - here is the master list

AO3

Tags: @littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny

Pst, anyone else - feel free to leave a comment if you'd like to be added to a tag list

[justporo]

Hi! Could I please get some headcanons or a drabble of Astarion x anemic!Tav and how things may differ when it comes to him feeding on them, how he'd take care of them if they needed it, etc? Would love to see what you come up with. Thank you for your time! 💜

Hello and thank you very much, Anon! Since I'm actually hit with the Bloodless debuff today myself... What else could I have written?

This is a very sweet idea to write something - which I took and then made it sarcastic... I hope you like it.

Also - idk why, but for this I pictured Tav as velnna's Staeve - you probably know who I'm talking about and if you don't you should very quickly go over there and find out, because I love Steven and you should really give this incredible incredible artist who has contributed so much to this fandom a lot of love. All the love. (I didn't wanna tag them because I didn't know if it was okay and didn't want to annoy them but go check out their blog!!)

Pairing: Astarion / Tav (You) Wordcount: 1,6k

Bloodless

The sun was burning in the sky. You felt sweat almost drip from your skin. Every step seemed to be harder than the last one. Your heart was fluttering although your pulse seemed flat. Damn this Mountain Pass.

You and the rest of the party had been hiking through the mountains for days. It was exhausting for everyone, but especially for you it seemed. Surely, the fact that you had offered Astarion your blood almost every other night (and that he was always very keen and graciously grateful to take it) had quite obviously to do with how much your stamina had dwindled.

But you knew offering up your blood was very much helpful. Not only to the vampire, but the party as a whole: Astarion had basically become a menace on the battlefield since he’d been able to feed properly. Also, you were stubborn – a bit of missing blood wouldn’t knock you out. Or would it?

You tripped on a loose stone and almost face-planted on the ground. Only in the last moment were you able to catch yourself and dampen the fall with your arms. You quickly got up again and hoped no one had noticed since you’d dropped to being the last in the group today.

But trying to raise yourself so quickly had been a mistake and you suddenly felt overly woozy, your vision blurring and you were immediately back on one knee.

And of course, it hadn’t gone unnoticed: Astarion had been in front of you and had seemingly been alarmed by the noise of your fall – twice.

“What is it, Tav, got too distracted looking at my back, hm?”, he taunted and came over to where you were doubled over – leaning on your arms too now because you felt so dizzy all of a sudden that you felt you had need of all of your four limbs on the ground to support you.

When the vampire realised you weren’t getting up and also didn’t respond to his quip in your usual witty manner, he quickly gave the others a shout to let them know not to go too far ahead. Then he came over to you. You were desperately trying to not pass out when you saw the hands of the pale elf through your blurred vision reaching for you.

“You do hear me, yes?”, Astarion whispered to you. You could only nod curtly. His hands hesitantly touched your shoulders.

“Alright, can you get up? There’s a big stone over there where you could sit down.” You shook your head which made you even dizzier.

“Oh hm”, Astarion seemed a little helpless on how to proceed with you. You felt him turn away.

“Don’t tell the others!”, you exclaimed breathlessly. The vampire whipped around: “But… why?” “Just don’t please”, you whispered and carefully looked up at his face. Was that… actual worry?

“Please just… Help me sit on this rock, let me have some water… and rest and we’ll keep going in a few minutes”, you pleaded with him. Astarion didn’t look completely convinced but sighed in defeat after a few of your racing heartbeats.

“Alright – could you please not die for a moment while I go and talk to the others?”, he said in a sassy tone that couldn’t completely gloss over the worry in his voice.

You let your head fall down again and simply nodded. Astarion went off towards the rest of your companions.

Ever so slowly you felt a little bit better. Cautiously you knelt back onto your feet – at least not on all fours anymore! Shortly after you tried to carefully get up and move over to the rock Astarion had mentioned.

That was when the vampire returned. “Oh no no, you stay right where you are, you poor helpless creature that would have perished already had it not been for me.” He ran the last few feet over and grabbed one of your arms to slowly put it around his neck and help you get up and walk over to sit on the boulder. You wanted to say something witty at his taunt, but your mind was too blank.

“Also, we are actually taking a break – all of us, so don’t even try to keep on walking”, he scolded you as he placed you down.

“What did you tell the others?”, you asked simply as you placed your forearms on your thighs and just sat leaning forward like that for a little. “Tss, does it matter now? Something like I broke a nail of mine and needed a moment to mourn it or whatever”, Astarion replied annoyedly.

“Can’t believe they actually stopped for that”, you said slowly and chuckled with your head between your knees and threw up a look at your vampiric companion. “Yeah well, seems they care a lot about my wellbeing. And I take it they would about yours, too”, he gave back – again very sassily. You just chuckled but didn’t reply. You saw that he relaxed a little.

“Ah here. You should probably drink and eat a little”, the vampire said after a while of the two of you just sitting there. He offered you a water bottle and some berries from a pouch – both of which weren’t his for obvious reasons.

You narrowed your eyes at him: “Where did you get those?” “By the Gods, you are so reluctant to help, I should’ve left you in the dirt.” Astarion rolled his eyes at you. “The druid gave it to me – you’re not as inconspicuous as you might believe, oh mighty leader of our adventure troupe.” You had a desire to punch this cheeky elf but you knew you were in no condition to act on something like this, so you sighed and first took the water and then started to munch on some berries from the offered pouch.

Silence spread once more between the two of you. Before Astarion broke it again: “Listen, Tav, darling, I know this must be because you’re letting me drink your blood so often.” You immediately wanted to start protesting but the vampire hushed you, brows furrowed.

“No, for once, you’ll let me do the talking. Don’t think I’m blind – your form has been declining for quite some time now. We can’t go on like this. I mean, Halsin has also noticed already.” You stayed silent and kept popping berries in your mouth and silently thanked the druid for his kind gesture – even if you didn’t want the others to know of this weakness. You slowly started to feel better.

“As much as I enjoy our little late night… sessions. We should probably take a break – at least concerning these particular ones. And maybe later, keep longer breaks in between if you insist to keep throwing yourself at me to drink your blood”, Astarion continued and sighed theatrically.

He tried so hard to be sarcastic about the whole thing, but you noticed that he was actually worried, judging by the guilty glint in his red eyes. And maybe it was that the blood loss was affecting your brain too much but you stared at him and just dryly said: “You know, you could just admit that you care about me, Astarion.”

The vampire huffed in surprise, then he sneered with a click of his tongue: “Bah, of course I do, you seem to be the only one to get this group of clowns to work together after all. It’s not like I care for you much as a person. As a blood bag maybe, but other than that…”

You pursed your lips and let him ramble, digging his own verbal grave by trying to talk himself out of it.

You didn’t even reply afterwards, just let him steep in the own awkwardness he created.

You kept looking at him – even offered him a berry, he scrunched his nose at – then shrugged and ate it yourself.

You slowly opened your water bottle…

“Okay, maybe a little. Tiny bit. Because you’re the only one in the group who seems to have a real sense of humour – at least when you’re not lying in the dirt being a dried out husk”, Astarion exclaimed.

You grinned at him wolfishly and shook the last of the berries from the small bag into your mouth ignoring his insult. “Now, wasn’t even that hard, was it? I really like you to, Astarion”, you said and then slowly stood up – careful not to immediately make a fool of yourself again.

“I liked you better when you were staring at the dirt up close”, the vampire replied and jumped up while crossing his arms over his chest, then sauntered away.

“Sure, if that’s what you need to tell yourself”, you kept teasing and slowly went after the brooding vampire.

You met up with the rest of the camp then went on your way for the rest of the day. The others were already so used to the two of you missing from the camp at the same time (mostly during nighttime, of course) that they didn’t even look up when the two of you came back.

Later when you all had settled down for the night you saw that Astarion went over to Halsin and talked to him softly. They both threw you looks in between which made you uncomfortable because you certainly could imagine what the topic was. Before Astarion had also made sure you’d gotten the first serving of tonight’s dinner (and also seconds).

Even later when the others were already at rest the vampire confessed, he’d been asking the druid about how he could go about drinking your blood without putting too much of a strain on you. Again, you noticed that he seemed not only concerned about his blood rations when he explained that to you.

The next days you also noticed that Astarion had started carrying some water and the bag from Halsin containing the berries.

And you thought to yourself that – for a blood bag – Astarion seemed to put an awful lot of thought and action into making sure you were okay.

[meanbossart]

DU seems like a secret romantic to me, and only those he cares about are allowed to see this side of him. That's why I wonder how DU said 'I love you' for the first time. How he felt about it and how Astarion reacted to it?

I really like your comics and art and hope that you stay in this fandom a little longer.

Thank you! I very much enjoy writing and drawing about these characters. Plus, BG3 (and DnD by extension) is... Seemingly a bottomless hole when it comes to lore. So I plan to stick around!

Hah, I wouldn't say he's a secret romantic - his whole character revolves around this side of himself, pretty much. He just expresses it oddly and sometimes in a way that I intend to be seen as negative (like the whole Orin situation and his co-dependency with Astarion.) Basically, he's romantic to an unhealthy degree but working on leveling it out.

Considering all the lore I got for this guy, I have surprisingly never thought of that precise moment. I think because I consider it kind of unimportant in the grand scheme of things (also I don't know about you, but the first "I Love You"s in my relationships have never been this grandiose moment like movies and books make it out to be). I know for certain that he said it first (If you don't count Astarion's "joke" confession when he's playing around and flattering you during one of his interactions, which I do not), and probably in a way that could have almost floated by unnoticed, like he just dropped it in the middle of a sentence like he had said it before a hundred times already.

And Astarion would have probably thought he was just infatuated, or being hyperbolic (and he would have been correct to a degree. I see the start of their relationship as being very juvenile, though earnest). Definitely didn't say it back at all until the cemetery scene.

Hm, I gotta think more about this one, might be something I want to turn into a comic.

[rpgchoices]

Misdirection (Astarion romance route)

BG3 spoilers

I am obsessed with the misdirection in Astarion's romance. I said it before, I was absolutely tricked too. When you read a text or consume media every line is put there for a reason, it is a waste otherwise. By the party scene you kind of have a certain idea of what Astarion is. You know that he dislikes helping others, you know that he lies, he flirts a lot, he is vain, he is a killer, and he wants power (from the conversations about the tadpoles and Raphael).

At this point, if you chose him as a romance, it could also be that you enjoyed the idea of him being a vampire and all the tropes that come with it.

So when, after the first night together, you can ask him "It felt like you weren't fully there" there had to be a reason. From a writing pov, why was that line added?

As a player, you have to wonder. And by this point in the story it seems like a warning there is little that might convince you that what he answers with is not the truth, mainly because it falls right into the classic stereotypes of this kind of romance. Of course he is a danger, he did not want to lose control, be careful in the future - this is how it would sound to me if I romanced him without spoilers. I know because when I got his sex scene, I reloaded and romanced someone else because this kind of aggressive seduction vampire fantasy was not my thing.

If I had read this line, I would have been sure it was a small hint that romancing Astarion could end up very badly. Another small misdirection that could easily end up as a clue is in their second pre-sex scene together. Astarion is making sure the MC will stay with him, and he is very seductive. The funny thing is that if you choose the "yes" (1st option in the pictures just below) you don't get any other information or clue, but just flirting. You actually get even more of the fantasy, he talks about how he cannot stop thinking about you, he even presses on the word "dangerous", and his mannerism is all business

If instead you ask him to be better he goes on and on about his lines, he directly tells the player that these are all fake, basically. You can even ask him if these lines work on Cazador's targets, and he says "well, they worked on YOU".

So at this point as players we know that the player is being manipulated and teased up till a point. I definitely fell for it by immediately cutting the romance short, and never thinking about it again until I got the strenght potion scene. I got that scene as a friendship one, which has different options.

It is a bit different than the romance, he is much more direct in my opinion. He talks about his body as one of the few assets he has, and he is much more confused about why he was being "too precious" about the potion, he is actually surprised by himself.

And as I said, it is much more direct when he says that he never had a choice before (and he is specifically talking about sex). In the friendship version you can also convince him that he needs to use all of this that he has because he might, to protect himself and get advantage, which at least gives credit to our MC if we do romance him.

(TW!! for SA) In the romance scene instead you never get these options, you CANNOT convince him to keep using his body, and if you try to do so he will break up with you, as he should, he is much more confident.

And regarding the whole misdirection if you have not maximized his approval, you won't get his confession but you will find out the whole of his story after the drow potion scene. That is the scene where he thanks you for respecting his consent. I feel like it is such a monumental and surprising one, definitely not one I expected.

And the options are SO SO TELLING. The one sex option you get in this dialogue is the WRONG one. The game directly tells you that by choosing it you assaulted him and disregarded his consent.

There are instead 5 good options. I checked and they all seem to have the same amount of approval.

They are:

1. Showing him that your feelings are real so he can trust them. 2. Showing him intimacy without sex (hug). 3. Confirming that you want to be with him even with his burdens (he often mentions them in other dialogues, especially when you choose between him and Gale). 4. Saying you can be together without sex. And my favourite: 5. ASKING him what he wants, CARING about what he wants.

So yeah, I admit I absolutely fell for it, I was convinced this would take such a wildly different road. Glad to see it did not.

[thatfreshi]

As a prompt - maybe Astarion (or Tav for that matter) going absolutely feral (and i mean really) when someone or something hurts badly the other (or try to) ?

I don't know of it has already been donc by you and if it has sorry, really appreciate your writing though ! Thank you <3

Learning to trust is difficult

tw - themes of death, talk of injuries

"I just don't know how you don't seem to care! It's bad Astarion, really bad, and I'm not going to sit here and watch you hurt."

While you and the vampire were on night watch, you got jumped by some thieves scrounging around in the woods of the Sword Coast. He took the brunt of the fight, taking quite a couple slices to the abdomen.

"We'll wait til morning, like I said. Shadowheart will be rested by then, and we'll all be fine."

"Oh right, so you can bleed out? You think you're such a jester, don't you."

You already dealt with the perpetrators, making sure they were flayed across the grass, any hopes they had of stealing from you shot down from miles away.

"If it were that bad I would wake her Tav, but it's not."

Gods, he's frustrating. Driving you to the point of madness, constantly. For someone who finally has a second chance at life, he can be quite reckless. Instead of trying to argue with him further, you walk over to where he's propped himself against his bedroll, and start undressing his wounds. He almost tries to push you away, but the lightest touch of the cuts makes him lose his strength.

"Tav, stop it."

"No! Because you can wrap these all you want, but if you leave these like this overnight it's going to get nasty, and I know for a fact you can't stitch wounds like this."

"Then it is was it is."

"No, I'm getting her. Stay here."

Astarion grabs at your wrist. There's a dreary silence for a moment, and he refuses your eye contact.

"I've done this by myself, for how long? Do you have any idea what it makes me feel like, having to turn to someone who is practically a stranger, and put my life in their hands? I did that once my love, and I have regretted it ever since."

And you know exactly what he's talking about, that night in the alley, fragmented memories only covered up by digging through six feet of dirt.

"You would've died though."

"Perhaps it would have been best that way."

You know that no selfish reason you have about wanting him around could ever make up for all the things he endured under Cazador, that if he had bled out that night he would at least be at peace.

"This is different though. We're all working together, we all want the same things. Shadowheart isn't going to hold this over you."

"You don't know that. I mean look at me. I planned on seducing you and getting rid of you as soon as I could, all to keep myself safe. We will never truly know what the others want, what their intentions with us are."

"Then why trust me?"

He hesitates as you wrap his abdomen once again.

"I... I don't know... You're just, different."

"Then what's to say Shadowheart isn't also different? Or any of them for that matter?"

You cup his face in your hand.

"It's just easier to risk one of you. To risk loving you, and only you. Because if you betray me? Then I've played myself for a fool, and I can't have two knives in my back."

"You don't have to trust her Aster, but you need her right now. We need her, because I can't lose you either."

Your hand trails to his, and you feel at each other's fingers for a few long moments. He tries to come up with something to say, knowing he will most likely bleed out if you two don't wake the cleric.

"You trust me right? You're making that risk at least, taking that chance? Then trust that I'm trying to make the right choice for you."

Even if he doesn't bleed out, he doesn't deserve to writhe in pain all night, to which you're sure he would say something about how he's done it a million times before. Why, why does he try to be strong for you?

"Alright my love, wake her."

You get up without a word, planting a quick kiss on his forehead before leaving the tent, your feet gliding to where Shadowheart is sleeping.

"Shadowheart, we need you."

She's a light sleeper, like most of you, and wakes with the few simple words you speak.

"What it is?"

The cleric asks as she walks with you.

"Astarion. We had some unwelcome visitors on watch. It's... it's not pretty."

You come back to your tent, gently moving the fabric by the entrance as Shadowheart moves to him, focused on doing what needs to be done. She unwraps the bandages and you come to his side. He's silent.

"Lady of Sorrows, this is horrific Astarion. How long have you let this sit like this?"

It takes him a moment to muster the words, still clearly embarrassed to be receiving her help this late. You've learned though that he hates people speaking for him, so you just wait.

"It's been about half an hour. Tav and I have been arguing about getting your assistance. They insisted we wake you, and I insisted we shouldn't bother."

"Well, you're lucky Tav isn't as stubborn as you are, because this is nasty. While I'm not as familiar with vampire anatomy, this would not have sat well overnight."

She takes a moment to gather herself, before casting healing touch, letting the magic linger a little longer than normal. You watch as his pale skin slowly comes back together, stitching itself up like embroidery thread. Shadowheart takes a moment to admire her work, smirking slightly. Her expression then becomes somber for a moment.

"As much as I'm not the sappy type, please don't hesitate to get me when you need me. Despite how much you all annoy me, I'm still rather fond of you as companions. I would hate to see any of you go too soon, especially over something as simple as this."

Astarion says nothing in return, and soon after the devout Sharran leaves the two of you alone. The two of you lie down, wrapping yourselves up in each other, limbs entangled as if you're scared of being torn apart.

"I know it's hard, but you have to learn to ask for help. If not for yourself, for me. Because I can only do so much my star."

"I know."

"I'm sorry I yelled. It just really scares me, the idea that I could lose you."

He nuzzles into your chest, the movement dampening his voice.

"I don't think anyone's ever been afraid to lose me, except me. And I fear I lost myself far too long ago for it to matter."

You wrap your fingers in his hair, sitting in the sorrow with him.

"All things that are lost can be found. And we'll find you again my love, I promise."

He doesn't thank you, which you don't mind. After all, Astarion isn't used to having anyone to genuinely thank. But the way he lets you hold him, that slowly but surely the walls are coming down, that's his own way of saying it, saying that he's grateful. And as long as he lives to see another day, you'll take whatever he gives you, for as long as both of you live.

[amorgansgal]

When Shall We Meet Again?

We're at part 4 of this ongoing fic and I am having a blast! If you've not read part 1 (Practice Makes Perfect), part 2 (A Bitter Pill to Swallow) and part 3 (Such Sweet Sorrow) I'd recommend it. We're now following the events of BG3 if you squint because obviously you and Gale have history and there'll be a lot of things he either won't hide from you or will reveal sooner, so I'm messing around with the timeline and dialogue just a little bit. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Gale x Fat Female Reader/Tav

The whirling vortex of what had been a sigil sparked and hummed with magic and it seemed that neither you, Astarion nor Shadowheart were particularly willing to touch it. Given all that had happened you could hardly blame anyone. 

“Perhaps we could poke it with a stick,” you suggested and Astarion chuckled drolly. 

“I doubt that would help matters much!”

“Look, why don’t you touch it, and I’ll heal you if you need it,” Shadowheart suggested.

“And if I get blasted to pieces?” you asked. 

“We’ll make sure to pick them all up and put you back together! Parasite tadpole and all!” Astarion said.

You rolled your eyes, but perhaps that age old Waterdeep Academy curiosity got the better of you and you gave it a tentative poke with one finger. The magic fizzled up your arm like a bolt of electricity, it sent both a rush of excitement and sharp needles of pain dancing through your skin and blood. You shook your hand to get rid of the sensation and then were all too surprised when someone else’s hand suddenly appeared from the deep black pit of the sigil. 

“A hand, anyone!” a disembodied voice called out. Strangely, their voice was oddly familiar, but you couldn’t quite place where you knew it from. You frowned, trying to think why it rang a bell. But nothing came to mind. You did your best to calm the magic first, trying to get a control of it before touching it.

“Whatever you’re doing is working wonders!” the stranger cried out in encouragement and you smiled a little at the praise. But now it was time to try and free said stranger, so you grabbed hold of the hand and pulled. The magic had a strong hold on them, but then like a plug being released from a sink, they suddenly came loose and you were bowled over backwards as said person landed on you with a heavy thud.

“Ooof!” you exclaimed. 

“Gods, I am sorry, I’m usually better at this,” he said, getting off you and offering you a hand. You managed to sit up and look at him, but it suddenly hit you where and why and how you knew him. Gale. Gale Dekarios. It felt unreal to see him again, but you’d recognise those brown eyes anywhere. He was still handsome, even with age lines around his eyes and mouth, and with a few grey hairs in his chestnut brown hair. Truth be told, you thought he looked better than when he had been a youth, somehow he had grown into his face more. You weren’t quite sure if the same could be said for you! You realised you were still sat on the ground, eyes fixed on him, while he awkwardly held out his hand. Did he not recognise you? Had he forgotten you?

“Hello,” he greeted you cheerfully, offering the hand again. “I’m Gale of Waterdeep.”

“Y/N are you going to get up or do you plan on making things as awkward as possible?” Astarion muttered.

Gale’s eyes suddenly filled with recognition, which was quickly followed by a tremulous mix of excitement and apprehension. “Did you attend Waterdeep Academy?” he asked, you managed a nod and he beamed. “Y/N! I never thought I’d see you again, but you look well. Very well… barring the tadpole in your head I imagine. Do you remember me?”

“Yes, of course I do, Gale.” You took hold of his hand, not wanting to leave him hanging any longer and he helped you to your feet. He was still holding your hand and gave you a warm smile as his eyes scanned your face. 

“How was Neverwinter?” he asked. “I did write to you, but I guess… I guess you were busy.”

“Good, good…” you said, then trailed off into silence. You didn’t know what to say. What you could talk about with Gale. It had been so long, but all the same complicated feelings had rushed back in a matter of seconds. You remembered the kisses you had shared, his head buried between your legs… Oh gods, the tadpole connection! You immediately tried to think about anything else.  

“We saw a lot of mountains!” you exclaimed. Astarion snorted with laughter and Gale smiled politely, though you could see there was just a little hint of pride and heat in his gaze.

“Sounds fascinating,” Gale said. 

“Not that I don’t love crashing a clearly messy and emotionally fraught reunion, but would you care to introduce us, Y/N?” Astarion prompted.

“Of course, sorry,” you muttered, your cheeks felt hot and you apprehensively tugged on your neckline. “This is Gale, he and I attended Waterdeep Academy together. Gale, this is Astarion and Shadowheart.”

“I thought it may be prudent to speak with you before any other awkward situations arise,” Gale said, when you finally made it back to camp and the others had gone on ahead to their own tents or bedrolls for the evening.

“I’m sorry Gale, I didn’t mean to think of the past and you in that way-”

He raised a hand. “Not at all, I don't mind. Hells, if anything I’m rather flattered I was memorable in that way! It’s just that… well… I know that I ruined what could’ve been a perfectly good friendship and made you feel that you had no choice but to run. I’m sorry, I was a young, stubbornly romantic fool that couldn’t see the harm in what he was doing. It was never my intention to make you feel uncomfortable, but I did and I want you to know I’m a very different Gale to my stupid 20-something self.”

You smiled, a lot of time had passed and you knew what Gale had done was never done out of maliciousness. You held no il-will against him. “It’s alright Gale, we’ve both grown and changed, though I appreciate the apology. I’m sure we can still be friends.”

His eyes crinkled at the corner when he smiled and you felt your heart flutter. “I would like that,” he said.

“We’ve got a lot to catch up on,” you said and began walking with him towards the campfire. “Last I heard you had been chosen by Mystra and allowed to visit her hallowed halls, that must’ve been something! What was it like?”

You glanced over to Gale, but instead of seeing his usual excited expression and thrilled smile in getting to talk about something he was passionate about, his brow was furrowed, his eyes lost to the past and his mouth was a tight line. You felt tempted to reach out and touch his hand to bring him back to the present, but you stopped yourself.

“Oh it was something alright,” he muttered. He looked back up at you and gave a grim smile. “It is late and you are probably tired, I’ll find a spot to set up my bedroll and we’ll speak further in the morning.”

Honestly, the dismissal surprised you more than anything. He seemed so excited to find out you were someone he knew from his past, but now he was quickly scurrying away from you and being oddly secretive about what had occurred during the years you’d been apart. You frowned, you could guess it had something to do with Mystra, but you couldn’t imagine she was displeased with him. Gale had always worked so hard and been so dedicated to becoming the greatest archmage the world had ever seen. Why would Mystra not want him as her student? But you decided to not press matters further and instead took your spot by the fire.

You recognised the woman he had summoned in the palm of his hand. She glimmered beautifully, the magic sparkling in the low evening light and forming the easily recognisable face of the goddess Mystra. She had statues all over the Waterdeep Academy campus and many students carried pendants or medallions with her face or symbol carved into them. Gale was entranced, his eyes fixed on her, though you could see a glimmer of pain in his gaze as he looked upon her.

“Gale,” you murmured and he jumped, quickly dismissing the magic and putting his hand behind his back, as though he were a child caught sneaking biscuits from a jar.

“Oh! My! You startled me!” he said. “I…uh… I was miles away.”

“That was Mystra,” you pointed out.

“Yes… yes, it was.”

You waited to see if he would offer an explanation, but he only looked at you and the silence stretched on. The campsite was quiet, the only noises were the chirp of crickets, the gurgling of the nearby river and Scratch gnawing on a bone.

“What happened with her?” you finally asked.

Gale gave a nervous, sheepish laugh. “I… well, I’ve told you about the orb.”

“Yes,” you prompted. Your heart had bled for him when you realised what an awful secret he carried with him and how he had finally come to you, desperate for any magic item you might carry to soothe the dangerous magic that had lodged itself in his chest. You’d gladly parted with a necklace that gave the wearer the ability to misty step - given that was already a spell you could do, you saw no reason to keep it - but it had bothered you how Gale had been cursed by such magic. And it bothered you more by how guarded he was being with you when you just wanted to help figure out how to rid him of said curse.

“Well… I left out some details…” And with that he explained all, told you how much he idolised Mystra. How he had been her student, had been inspired by her and then become her lover. You flinched at that. Gale had said you two could be friends and you hadn’t pushed for anything beyond the occasional little flirtatious remarks you both partook in, but somehow… knowing he had shared the bed of a goddess… how could you compete with that? Whatever flicker of desire he had once held for you, must’ve surely been doused by Mystra’s grace and beauty. 

And he had wanted to impress her, to please her, to be everything to her. He wanted to show her that he could do anything, that he could handle more power and so he had pursued the fragmented, broken weave - thinking it would convince her and she would be so utterly amazed and impressed by him, that she would be swayed and give him more magic. His words sent a shiver down your spine, there was something dark and foreboding about the way Gale had greedily snatched for greatness, even if he had good intentions initially. You got the sense he had gone after the missing bit of weave more for his own benefit than Mystra’s.

“And then she left me, abandoned me, the orb lodged in my chest. She wouldn’t speak to me, she wouldn’t answer me when I called upon her. Tara was going here, there and everywhere to find magical items that it could feed upon. But I knew it was getting more and more impossible. I was determined to make my way to the Underdark and wait down there, wait for my end, away from civilisation, away from anyone I could hurt.”

You were left reeling, you knew Mystra could be harsh at times, downright cruel at others, but you hadn’t expected her to be so callous and to risk so many lives. You suddenly felt angry. Not only at Mystra abandoning Gale and leaving him to his fate. But how she had in effect risked the lives of everyone around Gale’s tower. He couldn’t know for sure when his orb might explode and what if he had wiped out the entirety of Waterdeep? Was Mystra perfectly fine with the idea that he could’ve killed thousands and destroyed one of her most beloved cities that dedicated itself to her worship and trained dozens of aspiring wizards, just because her previous chosen had made a mistake? A stupid mistake, but a mistake nonetheless.  That wasn’t to say Gale was entirely innocent in the situation. He’d been foolhardy and overly ambitious, but you still felt bad for him. Especially as he had locked himself away for years, pushing away all of his friends and colleagues. How lonely he must’ve been.

He sighed heavily, but then looked up at you and smiled. “But now… now I’m here and you’re here, and it does feel good to see you. I hadn’t realised it, but I missed you. Missed you so ardently. You have this lovely small smile that you do when you think no one is watching, but I see it. And it brings me such joy.”

Your cheeks flushed at Gale’s warm gaze and the sweet sentiment in his voice at noticing something you felt was rather insignificant about you, but it sent your heart racing. You exhaled slowly and tried your best to focus on what had been discussed prior.

“Why didn’t you tell me about all of this? Why didn’t you write to me?” you asked. You would’ve come to help, or at least keep him company or looked for magical items with Tara, maybe even tried to find a cure.

Gale managed a sad smile. “You’d ignored my previous letters. I didn’t exactly have the impression you would’ve dropped everything to come and help the foolish boy who got too excited at the very first glimmer of romance and love.”

“Gale, you were still my friend, I would’ve helped no matter what.”

He gave a shrug. “Not to mention I still had some hope that Mystra would forgive me and writing to an ex-flame didn’t seem the best way of winning her forgiveness.”

You scowled at the mention of Mystra again. Gale seemed so utterly convinced that she would be petty enough to not grant her forgiveness if he had anything to do with someone he’d had a previous relationship with. She had seemed intent on both abandoning him and leaving him without any source of comfort or aid from anyone else he knew.

“But, let us think on other things,” he said, suddenly enthusiastic and cheerful. “Do you remember how in one class we learnt to channel the weave all together?”

You thought back on that class. It had been an incredible class and your professor had told you to tread carefully, to not pry into someone else’s thoughts and be careful what you yourself transferred across to them. You’d been paired with Nira and even without any romantic feelings it had still been an intense experience, a feeling of being pulled together, the weave entwining around you, becoming a part of you, becoming you and the other person and every person in that room. You had looked over to Gale, who was with Hortense, to see the girl’s face redden and her furtive smile made you wonder what he had thought about. Only later did you figure it out. 

“Yes, I remember.”

“Well, how about we do that again? Give us something else to think about than Mystra!”

“You want to channel the weave - something Mystra controls - in order to not think about Mystra?” you pointed out.

“I want to channel the weave to remember what channelling the weave felt like and also remember my happy school days with you.”

“We didn’t channel the weave together-”

“No, but we got on, didn’t we? You beat me at alchemy, remember? I sometimes made you laugh, if memory serves. I read to you at the beach.”

You hesitated. He had made you laugh, though he’d made a good many people laugh and you hadn’t thought he had wanted to make you laugh in particular. You remembered your days off, where your study group would all trek down to the beach, following the sandy cliff path through bracken and heather, dust covering your shoes and the gorse scratching your clothes or bare legs. When you arrived at the beach you would watch the others swim, too nervous to take off your clothes and see the scorn in your friends’ eyes. Gale had often kept you company during that time, though he had mostly read his books. You had just thought he hadn’t cared much for swimming, though you liked hearing him read bits of the books aloud to you and when he asked for your ideas on the topics, it was a good way to pass the time there. It had been nice to talk to him like that, though you had been very shy then and couldn’t quite believe Mystra’s chosen deigned to speak to you.

“Very well,” you said and gestured for him to begin the magic.

It was entrancing, the weave flowed around you both, a purple stream glimmering and shivering, merging and folding, expanding and withdrawing. You reached out to touch it, the edges fizzed with different colours - blues and greens and silver and little sparks of black and gold. As your eyes followed the ever moving river of magic, you finally looked back at Gale, his eyes were fixed on you and he smiled. The weave swirled within you. Had you always been so close to him? You felt him in the weave, connected to you, part of you. It felt like a dream and yet also, so real and present and here. He was here and you were here and the weave was pulling your souls together. Gale was looking at you, drinking you in, his eyes were soft and dreamy and his lips were parted, and you imagined kissing him, tasting him again, feeling the warm brush of his beard against your cheek, his hands drifting down your back and waist and holding you close to him again.

Gale’s eyes widened and you realised all too quickly that you had transferred that thought, that you had let him know you had dreamt about the last kiss he had given you and that you fantasised about him kissing you now. You felt his surprise, but it was swiftly followed by a rush of his elation. Did he want you to kiss him? You cut the connection, pulling away and the coldness of the night enveloped you, after the warmth and security of the weave it felt empty and hollow. He was still so close to you, if you wished you could have bridged the gap and kissed him, instead you looked down to your feet, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled. 

“Don’t be,” he said. “Like I said, I’m not the foolish youth you once knew. It was a pleasant image and I don’t resent you for sharing it with me. It was most pleasant in fact, most welcome. I had feared for a long time you still might resent me for what happened at the Waterdeep Academy and I wouldn’t blame you for it-”

“Resent you? Gale we were both young and silly and overwhelmed by every new emotion. You’ve apologised for what happened, more times than I can count and you’ve been nothing but good and kind and respectful now. I’d be a fool to resent you.”

“Well…” he gave a shrug, then looked at you, seemingly content to stay where he was. Then finally he asked, “Is it very bad I want to kiss you right now?”

You blinked in surprise and then pressed your lips tightly together, trying not to reveal your excitement at the thought. Your heart was pounding in your chest. “I wouldn’t have thought I could compare to a goddess. I certainly didn’t compare to most of the women at the academy.”

Gale’s expression flickered quickly from outrage to distress as though he was appalled you would think so little of yourself. “What do you…That’s insane… Have you seen yourself?” he demanded.

“Yes, if anything I’ve seen a little too much of myself and if you recall it was part of the reason why a good many of my classmates thought the idea of you courting someone like me was absurd!”

Gale’s frown remained and he exhaled slowly as though calming himself, but his hand balled into a fist. He was silent for a moment, until he said, “I think you beautiful, whether you see that or no, and I never cared what anyone else thought nor did I think it absurd I would fall for a woman who was gentle, sweet, kind, caring and so smart. So wondrously and impossibly smart.” 

You had to look away from his gaze, you were so touched by what he said and now your mind was racing with ‘what ifs’. What if you hadn’t rejected him at the Academy? What if you hadn’t run away to Neverwinter? What if you had pursued a relationship with him? Would he have become Mystra’s lover? Would he have got an orb lodged in his chest? Would you both be here now with tadpoles in your heads?

“Sorry, that was too much, wasn’t it? But you are all those things and there’s no expectation on my part for you to say or do anything-” Gale rambled on and you knew there wasn’t any point in denying how you felt about him, especially if still felt the same way about you. You closed the gap and pulled him into a kiss, your hand curled into his hair and he let out a little soft groan. His hands cupped your face and he met your kisses with the same intensity and passion as he had when you were younger.

When you finally broke apart he didn’t demand you come to his bed, just stroked your cheeks. “You are perfect, you’ve always been perfect. Anyway, best I head to bed, don’t want to excite the orb too much! Goodnight,’ he said and gave you one last kiss, before heading over to his tent.

[wetcatspellcaster]

Metapost: "The Ascendent"

**this is a meta for my fic, Pieces Still Stuck in Your Teeth, and NOT a discussion of the BG3 game canon in any way. If you try and make this into a disk-horse, I will BITE you**

(spoilers under the cut for Chapters 1-23 of Pieces Still Stuck in Your Teeth).

So... remember in the Chapter One endnote when I said I was a Spike/Buffy fan first, and a person second? x

･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

In more seriousness, there was a number of fictional seasonings/ingredients that went into creating what I felt was the villain of a Gothic horror, and what I felt could turn the Ascendent into something that was both 'fixable', and something I enjoyed writing.

Those ingredients were:

Spike and the idea of 'soulless' vampires in the BtVS canon - do I like this conceit of BtVS worldbuilding and how it's used in the show? No. I think it often underlines how bad Whedon is at writing romance. BUT I do think it gives Buffy this free pass for which vampires she can/can't like or adopt, and I needed some of that for my protagonist. I need a 'I can fix him' moment - BtVS has those in fucking SPADES.

Howl's Moving Castle (this one was accidental, I'm still mad at myself but I can't deny it's there) - man conducts magic ritual for power, removing an essential part of himself in the process that needs to be returned

Picture of Dorian Gray (the idea of an exterior staying pristine while something hidden suffers and decays)

Curse of Strahd (the soulless in Barovia, which I mentioned in Chapter 23)

The idea of default moral alignments in D&D. I have a whole chapter arguing against this in my thesis (mostly bc it's often applied to entire races) but I was fascinated by creating a set of circumstances where I feel like a default moral alignment is valid, actually. 7,000 deaths seems like a good set up. I wanted to imagine a being that was trapped within a default moral alignment, and the laws of its very being prevent it from being good no matter what it tries, and it knows that (this kind of creates a feedback loop with the Spike/Buffy stuff)

The parts of the BG3 canon I took and REMADE (I'm stressing this throughout, I was making a horror story and a horror monster your honour):

Astarion conducts the Rite of Profane Ascension with scars on his back, but has to scar Cazador's back personally, suggesting that um... the Rite REALLY SHOULDN'T BE CONDUCTED BY SOMEONE WHO'S GOT THOSE SCARS. Cazador wasn't going to do it that way, is all I'm saying!!

The idea that Ascended!Ending Astarion is a concentrated version of certain traits that have persisted throughout his story - his flirtiness, his understanding of sex as a mechanism and expression of power, his use of a façade as a mask for trauma he refuses to acknowledge.

The lines alluding to dissociation in the brothel foursome, post-Ascension.

The idea that Astarion seduced Tav to survive or protect himself- in my case, because I made the Ascendent empty save for Astarion's survival instinct, the idea that he would gravitate towards Tav as one of his default modes to potentially survive made sense to me - this is why it becomes an obsession.

･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

For me, when writing, the Ascendent is a few things:

An intensification of vampirism in a different, fucked-up direction. Yeah, A!Astarion, you can walk in sunlight and you can eat and drink and don't need blood. But you are still a hungering maw of emptiness that feels like it will never be whole or close and connected to the living - just now in a wildly different, metaphysical/existential direction! Welcome to depression, alienation, and otherness!

A soulless being, that knows it is soulless - that initially was very happy with its life but then as the years passed, increasingly spends its every waking moment knowing there is something innately wrong with it that it can't seem to shake, no matter how much it engages with life and all the pleasures of life. (see the 'every meal without savour' speech)

A magically literal metaphor for Astarion's dissociation in moments of extreme trauma, up to and including the fight with Cazador - essentially, the moments when there is nothing but a performance or an exterior, because the self/soul are suffering and they cant' come to phone right now

Astarion's survival instinct. As I say in Chapter 23 - Mephistopheles thinks it is an empty body, who's performance is trying to deny the reality of it's own existence. Rosalie, who has a bit more understanding of Astarion, sees that the performance is not just a coping mechanism but one of Astarion's main modes of survival. The Ascendent is Astarion's survival instinct/techniques for endurance, without any soul or person behind them to protect. This is how I tried to tie in the flirty, hypersexual persona and wrap it with a bow.

I wanted a monster that was undeniably scary, and monstrous to me (oh? you can't fit in or be happy no matter what you do and no matter how hard you try, and you think there's something intrinsically off? how's that autism diagnosis going Emma) but that I also felt sympathy and true sorrow for. I needed to have motivations for him chasing after Tav that I could write meaningfully from and sympathise with.

Not only has Astarion used Tav as a life-raft once before, they've also proven to be the most secure thing he's ever clung to. Of course a rabid survival instinct Astarion would become obsessed, and see them as a potential solution to the problem (this was then intensified by Rosalie also being a walking, overbearing moral compass, and having bound him in a contract in the first week of living, accidentally - a lawful good immoveable objects meets a default moral alignment unstoppable force.)

...Because I also wanted that moral alignment spice!! Wizards of the Coast, default moral alignment is fucked up actually!!! Imagine something trying so desperately to be good - literally being bound in a pact and having been told to be good - but the laws of the universe and its very essence are like "nah mate, we kind of want to destroy and annihilate everything, we're neutral evil personified". That's scary!! that's fucked up!! that's what a birth from 7000 deaths gets you!!!

･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ･ﾟ✧

So, now for the actual timeline, for people who aren't interested in my silly musings but mostly just want answers lmfao.

Rosalie makes the decision not to intervene in Cazador's mansion, making it seem like she'll support whatever decision Astarion will make there.

Rite of Profane Ascension happens. Astarion conducts the ritual, rips his own soul from his body, the Ascendent is born with literally zero context. Mephistopheles is fucked in Cania, because a bunch of stuff has just gone wrong.

(oh, by the way, the Ascendent knows Infernal as a default language. Bc it's born from an Infernal rite.)

The Ascendent is now default neutral evil, and feeling some kind of way. Rosalie and him break up. He's supposed to have everything, but the one thing he thought was a done deal - his most stalwart suppporter - just rejected him.

Netherbrain defeat (the Ascendent is not invited. Imagine being an all-powerful, hypersexual survival instinct vampire, and your ex-girlfriend neither wants you for sex, nor your power.)

Rosalie accidentally binds the Ascendent (a soulless devil) in a pact demanding that he never kill anyone, when that's literally what the Ascendent's new existence/new default moral alignment is driving him to do. Then, she fucks off and goes into hiding.

Well. The Ascendent can just get another wizard, to help him learn all of Cazador's secrets to cope [Hemlock is recruited].

The years go by! The Ascendent is doing sooooo well. Everything is great, guys! I'm rich, I'm beautiful, I have lavish parties and lots of sex - why do I feel nothing? I'm a vampire perfected - I have no hunger for blood, I can walk in the sun, I can enjoy all the freedoms of a living, breathing man - why do I feel like I'm starving? Why does everything turn to ashes in my mouth? I have friends - oops, I've sabotaged all those friendships with my innate neutral evil destruction. Why can't I feel anything? What's wrong with me? I'm doing everything right? Why doesn't it feel that way?

Also, I can't kill anything to feel better about it, because my hidden ex-girlfriend bound me in a pact.

In this time, to reflect the gradual degradation of the Ascendent's happiness and it's increasing awareness that it is something Other and innately wrong, the reflection starts going weird. Starts going strange. Starts getting a bit fucked up. Almost as if, when he looks in the mirror and sees a person, *nothing* should be what's there. Imagine being a spawn who couldn't see your reflection, and then a vampire who could see it's reflection, but knows that they're innately empty. Knows there's nothing there. I'd freak out a little bit about it as well tbh, I'd go a bit tooth and claw and elongated jaw about it.

The Ascendent finally admits that's there must be something kinda fucked about it. Life just ain't working out, lads. He starts looking for any and all impossible cures that will help with the malaise in his soul (and that innate essence problem, caused by default moral alignment). These include: more bad decisions, such as a house in Cania bc the Ascendent is hoping he'll feel more at home with devils than he does with mortals. All it does is make him feel more isolated and alone.

But eventually, he settles on two things! - Wish (Hemlock's idea), and Rosalie (the Ascendent's idea). Clearly, we just need Rosalie back! Her leaving is actually what fucked him up in the first place - none of this existential bullshit! She fixed us one, she can fix us again.

But looking for Rosalie hasn't worked out. In order to get a shot at her, the Ascendent goes and bargains for his own soul from Mephistopheles. Mephistopheles, adding a new sheet in excel titled 'what the fuck happens when i give this soulless monster a soul to play with?', agrees and starts tracking his new data.

Obviously, just putting the soul back in yourself will fix you. But the Ascendent, the nothingness living inside Astarion's body, will die. Taking the soul back would erase itself. The Ascendent - who is survival instinct personified - would never do this.

So instead, it starts interviewing and cannibalising the soul. Bc a soul is what it needs, this is the closest it's ever felt to being alive. Bc it's made this all about Rosalie, he thinks he's found his solution. The chase is making him feel alive again. It's true love, lads! not the soul.

Wish auction happens - the Ascendent is beaten to the punch by some unknown (hot) wizard.

This avenue cut off, the Ascendent makes the decision to try and win Rosalie back.

Astarion advises that to make her come back to the Gate, he should murder a bunch of people. Because this comes from the soul, not the soulless devil nothingness, it circumvents the pact.

...The events of Pieces begin!

･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ･ﾟ✧

And finally - the Ascendent tries to destroy Jar!Starion for many reasons in Chapter 19:

The Ascendent knows that it dies, if the soul and the body get reunited (or is that constant high alert survival instinct just no longer needed, because the problem is fixed? you decide.)

The Ascendent values Tav above itself. Tav is going to fix them. Astarion believes he could never fix himself.

Dissociation - that soul isn't me. I'm here, looking at my soul. If I get too close, it'll kill me.

Self-hatred - that soul isn't me. That man made a mistake, and I've had to live with the consequences. He doesn't deserve to live, for what he's made me become.

The knowledge that Rosalie/Tav will only ever want that version of him, not the one that's living and breathing, that sees itself as the most wretched, fucked-up version of itself. So... give them no choice. They have to deal with me and love me at my worst.

And if the Rite didn't work - if the version of the Ascendent walking around isn't the best one, and the one people want... what was it all for? Why does the Ascendent feel like this? Why does it have to suffer?

･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ･ﾟ✧

....And, that's my little meta post! If anyone has any questions about the timeline or any motivations at any points in the fic, I'm obviously more than happy to explain things via ask/comment, as always!

TLDR: I just wanted to make a Gothic horror. I wanted a dark romance, fucked up obsession vampire/mortal dynamic, but I also wanted a situation that was scary for both Astarion and my Tav. I personally think an Astarion who is so dissociated and separate from reality that he feels that in his bones daily, is scary. It's the lingering impact of the traumas the Rite and those 7,000 souls embodied.

I was literally just trying to make it a horror, for everyone involved.

[shadowshrike]

The Curious Case of Halsin and Astarion's Ascension

For anyone who's occasionally poked around my stuff, you probably know that I found my Evil run of Baldur's Gate 3 (by which I mean my selfish run where I tried to gain as much power, wealth, and companion trust as I could) to be my most satisfying thus far. Part of that was the unique experience of having Halsin ask to join Tav and Astarion's relationship post-Ascension.

At the time, I said yes because it made sense for my character to "collect" an Archdruid. Out of character, I was tickled by the idea that Halsin confessed after Astarion became the new biggest bad in the land. Halsin was supposed to be a Good guy. Surely, either a possessive Astarion would be spitting mad about the arrangement, or Halsin would have second thoughts about Mr. Vampire Ascendent once he got a taste. I was ready for the drama.

It never came. In fact, the glimpses of their dynamic were so comfortable and playful that I was shocked.

Since then I've been doing a lot of thinking about Halsin and why he might act how he does throughout the Ascension storyline. I realize most of this can be handwaved with 'fanservicey romance writing.' That's true for parts of all romance paths, honestly, and I don't consider it a wholly bad thing given the game's goal to make you its center. However, I think being dismissive of the writing is not as much fun as building headcanons that work with any set of behaviors or lines you get.

So enjoy some theories pulled from datamined dialogue and my personal games. As always, this is completely hypothetical - I encourage everyone to write 'canon' in their personal playthroughs however they prefer.

Note: it's impossible to get all these lines in a single run due to some hinging on Astarion leaving and some may be bugged or near impossible to trigger. They're just being used to explore a character and dynamic that I don't see much of around fan spaces.

Halsin on the value of lives

To briefly set the stage, it's important to understand how Halsin views life and justice. He spells it out rather clearly if Kagha kills Arabella and her parents are also dead.

Halsin doesn't consider himself to be an arbiter of good and evil, only a steward of nature and its Balance. He highly values life. However, it's not him, the leader of the Grove, who is ultimately responsible for deciding Kagha's fate; it's the wronged parties or, barring that, nature itself who should decide her true punishment.

Halsin: As for the idol? It's nothing compared to a life. A mere object, next to one of nature's creations. I cannot absolve you, even if you are repentant. The girl's parents should have decided your fate, but they perished. Instead, nature will judge you. You are banished from this place - banished from everywhere the Oak Father's creations thrive.

But valuing the sanctity of life doesn't mean he doesn't also understand the importance of sacrifice. For example, if Wyll chooses his freedom over his father, Halsin counsels that it's a necessity to sacrifice to grow at times, no matter how unpleasant.

Halsin: You made a hard choice, Wyll. But not one that is unknown in nature. At times, a seedling must strangle the very tree that bore it, if it is to survive.

The price of 7000

So, Halsin's not a big fan of sacrificing life, yet understands that sometimes, people need to die for others to thrive.

But what about 7000 lives? A whole village worth?

That level of sacrifice sounds an awful lot like the day his life was destroyed by Ketheric and the Shadow Curse. A horrible event that haunted his every thought and deed for the next 100 years.

Within this context, it makes sense that all of his responses during the Ascension, whether Astarion does it or not, are focused on the price being paid. He usually emphasizes the sheer number of people affected and never discusses Astarion's potential evil (more on that later) or the undead nature of those lives.

Halsin: Stay your hand, Astarion. To sacrifice so many is a tyrant's ambition.

Halsin: All those lives snuffed out, just to grasp some power. That was craven - unnatural.

Halsin: Astarion resisted the allure of Cazador's would-be powers - and I am glad of it. Whatever he would have gained would have come at a great price.

The interesting part about this is, as an Archdruid of Silvanus, those undead lives should be considered an abomination. The Oath of Ancients oath break if you free the spawn reminds us of this. So Halsin's advice to save the spawn is not necessarily druidic advice - it is a personal opinion wrapped in flimsy druidic justifications.

He even recognizes undead as unnatural when you enter Cazador's home:

Halsin: A lair of undeath - most unnatural. We must tread carefully.

Yet about the spawn, who are undead and an intimate part of that unnaturalness, he says this about releasing them:

Halsin: Good - they deserve a chance at life. Nature will handle their fates from here.

Mercy for all monsters?

This is interesting to compare to another encounter with a smaller version of an eerily similar choice in Act III. The mindflayer in the Windmill - a person turned into a monster, much like a spawn. Allow it to live, and it may devour a family. In that case, Halsin says:

Halsin: We allowed this unnatural thing to live - now a whole family's worth of blood is on our hands.

He joins a host of other Good companions who curse themselves for showing mercy where it wasn't warranted. These are largely the same companions who would also save the spawn.

Karlach: This is our fault. These people died because of us. What were we thinking?

Wyll: Justice does not entail granting mercy to monsters. We should not have let this abomination go free.

Gale: A cruel conclusion to the mercy we showed, but hardly an unpredictable one. As long as it lives, so will its appetite.

The contradictory perspective taken during these two storylines shows the importance of emotional context in how we make decisions. For most, their traveling companion, who also has a tadpole, is the first vampire spawn they've ever met, while mindflayers have generally been the big evil this entire time. This could lead them to feel as though a horde of spawn may have enough humanity to need a chance, while a newborn Mindflayer should be exterminated on sight. Also, most of the other Good companions are relatively young and idealistic, so it makes sense that some may make foolhardy, heroic decisions.

But this encounter also begs the question: if these heroes are so distraught by having the blood of one family on their hands due to a single hungry mindflayer they saved, how could they justify letting 7000 starving monsters with unquenchable bloodlust free? Are they simply kind-hearted and short-sighted? Or maybe they're only optimistic about the hunger of vampire spawn, despite having personal examples of both a spawn and a mindflayer who manage their hunger equally ethically - by feeding on enemies and criminals.

Their naivety is driven home by Jaheira not being moved by the mindflayer or the spawn due to her extensive life experience. She believes in both cases that the greater mercy is to kill the creatures now.

(About the spawn) Jaheira: And what of the living they'll feast on, should they not prove as admirable as Astarion? They deserve a chance, too.

(About mindflayer) Jaheira: Look well. Our stupidity. Our price to pay.

Halsin is even older. He's a devout druid. He recognizes undead as unnatural. By all accounts, he should be on the same page as Jaheira to preserve the Balance. Yet in the face of that, he still advises to give the spawn a chance to live free, likely wreaking havoc wherever they need to feed.

I like to think this strange blind spot in his doctrine is due to a combination of Astarion's presence humanizing the unknown spawn, therefore making their unlives worthy of protection, and his own history as a genocide survivor creating an emotional reaction strong enough to override his usual wisdom. The price of a village is simply too devastating and personal for him to condone. No matter what letting 7000 ravenous undead free may mean.

Making the price worth it

Once you've ascended Astarion, you may be surprised that Halsin - generally a good man - is now steadfastly on Astarion's side. His reactions to the Gur conflict highlight this. If you side with Astarion against them, he's not happy, but resolute.

Halsin: An unfortunate battle... but I must stand by those I count as allies.

And if you decide Astarion is evil now and side with the Gur, Halsin doesn't seem to care about what Astarion has become, only that you allowed the sacrifice to happen and then let it go to waste:

Halsin: We allowed Astarion to sacrifice so many, only to just turn on him soon after? We should have stopped him sooner.

In contrast, many other companions call Ascended Astarion a monster, evil, or maniacal if you turn on him. They believe killing him at that point was the only right answer.

Karlach: It's done. It had to be done. Astarion was... out of control. Gods dammit. Look, he was an evil leech, but he was ours. I thought he'd changed. I was wrong. I always am these days.

Minsc: Do not mourn Astarion. The Gur are known to be a just and righteous people among the Rashemaar. They named Astarion monster, and so monster he was. Yes, Boo - even if he sometimes seemed a friend.

Gale: That's one scourge eliminated. A vampire with that much power would be a death sentence for this city. A pity Astarion didn't understand that. Or rather, didn't care.

Lae'zel: Astarion proved himself no less maniacal than his master. His death was a favour - to him, to us, and to the city.

Wyll: Hunt the monsters of the Sword Coast, protect the people - that was my promise. Killing Astarion was the right thing to do. I have to believe that. But I'm not proud of it. Not after... all this.

Ignoring Astarion's evil and telling you that you shouldn't have betrayed him may seem odd for a character who usually has a strong moral compass. Especially since Halsin doesn't tell you that you shouldn't have betrayed Shadowheart if you choose that path, though he's wary of that decision since you're handing her over to Sharrans. However, if Halsin's focus is on the 7000 lives and not on Astarion's personal kindness or cruelty, it makes more sense.

The people are gone. There is no taking back all those lost. So he's left with the need to make their sacrifice something other than a meaningless slaughter. The power for his companion must be worth it.

Halsin on Evil Astarion

You may be thinking, "Okay, but even if it's all about the mass sacrifice mimicking his own horrific past, shouldn't he still care about Astarion being Evil? He doesn't like evil acts at all!"

That's mostly true. Halsin certainly hates Shar for personal reasons and can get upset when you do cruel things. However, he's also potentially had a bit of a soft spot for Astarion since Act I, when you can decide the vampire spawn is evil and kill him or kick him out of camp.

His lines for this are actually shared with Karlach, Wyll, and Jaheira, according to the data. The uniqueness is primarily in his distraught line delivery.

If you kill Astarion, Halsin admits that he liked the guy even though he was a killer:

Halsin: Rest in peace, Astarion. You may have been a blood-thirsty murderer, but I liked you all the same.

And if you send him away, Halsin says this about Astarion being alone in the woods:

Halsin: He's someone else's problem now, anyway. Woods are full of boars. Maybe he'll learn his lesson and start hunting something that won't miss him when he goes.

His camp reactions immediately after Ascension mirror this attitude of concern rather than condemnation of evil. If Halsin speaks directly to Astarion, he sounds exasperated (the way Halsin says his name always makes me snicker) while Halsin once again brings up the idea of the price being paid.

Halsin: Astarion... you have ascended amongst the ranks of the undead. I can only hope that you do not come to regret the price that you paid.

However, the almost identical line if he's talking to another player character is delivered differently, particularly in how he says Astarion's name. It's more concerned than judgmental, implying that his frustration with Astarion is coming from a place of worry rather than pure anger.

Halsin: Astarion... he has ascended amongst the ranks of the undead. I can only hope that he does not come to regret the price that he paid.

This is particularly notable because it's in contrast to Shadowheart, who has a very similar line after her evil choice, but the emotion behind both sounds more similar to my ear.

After that initial comment, Halsin can banter with Ascended Astarion about how he's turned the player into a vampire spawn if there's a player romance. Unlike most of the other companions who can comment, such as Wyll and Gale, he expresses worry for both of them, not just the player. He also explicitly explains he has no intention of kink-shaming them, just warns about how dangerous having a master/thrall relationship can be if made real.

Halsin: To give oneself wholly, and to have a lover totally in your thrall...? A harmless game, until it becomes real. I worry for the two of you, Astarion. For your sake, I hope some of it is just a fantasy, deep in your heart.

But perhaps the most blatantly accepting we see him of Ascended Astarion is if they go to the Drow twins together. There are always some playful lines with one another if they're both present, but one is unique to Ascension if the player bites Halsin as a spawn during the scene. Halsin's response is light and delighted, acknowledging Astarion's role as not just a vampire, but the lead in your new relationship.

Halsin: Ha - tickles. See what a bad influence you are, Astarion?

Combine with Halsin's direct propositioning of Astarion if Astarion teases him about his night with the player, and there's a case for long-held attraction as well, regardless of alignment.

Astarion: I hear things got wild between you two. I hope no one was too badly mauled. Halsin: We're all in one piece. Perhaps you'll join us next time. Astarion: It's bad enough having one person with fangs trying to keep control of themselves. Two of us could be dangerous.

All these lines, taken together during times when others label Astarion a monster, suggest that Halsin accepts Astarion as a whole. He doesn't believe in trying to change people's nature, so maybe he sees any distasteful deeds as part of Astarion's, the same as an owlbear cub eating its mother might disgust some though it is completely natural.

It makes sense, then, that Halsin might be proud of Astarion for choosing morality or personal growth, but he isn't too bothered if that doesn't happen either. What line Astarion would have to cross to earn Halsin's true ire is unknown. The reverse is a much more complicated question (mostly because it's plausible that many of Astarion's lines are rooted in deception) that I may delve into another time.

Is this whole relationship a little ironic given that Halsin is The Selfless Good Druid and Astarion is The Selfish Evil Undead? Absolutely. But that's the fun of it, in my opinion. It adds depth to these characters in ways that rarely shine through during a singular playthrough, especially since very few will do the crazy thing I did with an Ascended Astarion + Halsin romance.

It sure makes for narrative fun, though.

[creatingblackcharacters]

This might seem like a weird thing to get hung up on, but in reference to your post about Wyll's hairstyling, someone made the comment that they imagined Mizora used magic to braid his hair as part of their pact. You replied that this was a racist idea and offered to explain why, but they never commented back. If you're still willing to discuss it, I actually would like the explanation. I'm not disagreeing that it's racist, I just think I'm missing some of the nuances/reasoning.

The only explanation I can think of is the way that Wyll's relationship with Mizora is treated, both in and out of game, just makes the joke really not funny. I hate that Mizora is treated as a quirky, love-to-loathe-her side villain when she's essentially Wyll's abuser. She should be treated with the same gravitas that the writers treat Astarion's relationship to Cazador, or Karlach's relationship to Zariel. Then you've got the fans, who can write loads of rants and analysis of Mystra "grooming" Gale on what I would consider very little basis (adults can have teachers too), but stay pretty mum about Mizora, who started manipulating Wyll when he was 17, isolated him from any support systems he might have had, and literally tortures him with the torments of Hell for disobeying her. I forget which conversation it is, but Wyll even describes her visits to him after he completes a task for her as her "saying all the right words" and "touching him in just the right ways."

Maybe I just haven't seen people talking about it because I'm not looking in the right places, I tend to keep most fandoms at arm's length so I'm not swallowed whole by their nonsense. I'm sorry if this turned into an extra long vent message, but I hope it shows I care about Wyll as a character and the work you're doing in general to improve the portrayal of black characters in fiction and fandom.

I mean, you pretty much said it all. I mentioned in my hair lessons that hair is very important to Black people, and that it's also a matter of consent. You wouldn't want just anybody touching your body, and that includes your hair, yes? So it would be incredibly violating for some white person that is essentially your abuser touching your hair, your body, something that is important to you! How can there be real consent if someone OWNS you? Hair is something that requires trust and intimacy. Especially with the idea that a white person would know better how to do your Black hair?! No thanks.

It's also something that ties into my most recent lesson with stereotypes, plus issues with how men are perceived with abusers. The idea that a boy should be "grateful" that a woman is attracted to/attached to them, even when it's inappropriate. For me, what I see when I see Mizora is a white coded woman allowed to mistreat a young Black boy into his adulthood, and treated as though he brought it on himself, as if he deserves to be mistreated by someone who took advantage of him. I see that people won't take that violation seriously, bc no one cares about the dignity of Black bodies nor do we offer them grace under fire.

Whereas if this were a young white girl, and an older Black coded male demon had done these things to her, all hell would break loose. Fans would immediately understand that that sort of relationship is not appropriate and we should not just assume that "oh well it's just sexy".

I mentioned in the last lesson that this sort of "attraction" has gotten Black boys and men killed at the whims of white women. It's not "funny" to me to think that some white coded woman is allowed to treat Wyll that way and everyone is just... Cool with it. I'd be very nervous to ask your opinions on real Black people.

It's honestly why I felt uncomfortable getting interested in the fandom to begin with, in addition to everything else involved with Wyll and his VA Theo. BG3 doesn't seem like a welcoming place fr, and I too have to keep fandom at an arms length for racism reasons, but as I've done with fandom before this: that's my chance to maybe create something that's missing. 👍🏾

[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.

[spacebarbarianweird]

Hi! Would you write Astarion x Rogue!Tav ? I always liked the idea of two rogues together, getting up to a bunch of mischief.

Inspired by my friend @psychicdreamlandpizza whose Tav is Tiefling Rogue

Thanks @rachelle-on-the-run @leomonae @glassphinixfor the ideas! NSWF version is coming later!

Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Masterlist

Headcanons

You are a street urchin, abandoned as a child.

You can only rely on yourself and no one else.

However, such a life didn't make you bitter.

You are a sarcastic rogue with a heart of gold.

You know lockpicking, deception, and many illegal stuff.

Of course, you knew stories of vampires using, the streets as their hunting spot.

You met them twice.

A tiefling woman. who tried to offer you a profitable job.

And an elf. who was selling his body.

You knew who they were and escaped.

Gods, why isn't there a vampire hunter when you need one?

You recognize the said elf at the shipwreck.

Before he manages to jump on you, you knock him down and put a dagger to his throat.

"Just tell me the reason why I shouldn't tell everyone you are a vampire?"

Now it's his dagger against your throat.

"Tell me the reason why I shouldn't tell everyone you are a thief and a criminal?"

Fair enough. It's not like you manage to keep secrets from the party, but you have an arrangement for a while.

You have a lot in common.

Basically, two feral cats, who try to gauge each other's eyes.

You have lockpicking races trying to open a door or a chest.

"I saw it first!", "I got to it first!", "I've been picking locks since before you were born, you little wretch!", "Exactly! Move, old man!"

Sometimes, failing perception checks and having to face a mimic.

You have charisma 20 and can make people love you without putting too much effort.

You can overdrink anyone and anything, but Astarion has to carry you away because you never know when to stop.

You always can get better deals and contracts, but your desire to help people (even for money) often goes sideways.

And it's Astarion's turn to get you out of trouble.

The intimacy of your partner helping you disarm a trap, knowing that a misstep could kill you both but also knowing that you've nothing to worry about because both of you trust the other's skills and steadiness.

And stitching wounds if one of you fucks up.

Sometimes it's you both.

Post-game, you stay together in Baldur's Gate, working as mercenaries and dreaming of earning a fortune.

You have a thing about luxury too, though, you've never had a chance to experience it.

You are two stray cats, finally having home.

The idea of sleeping comfortably in your bed feels weird.

Wearing clothes which are beautiful but not practical, too.

And you know when Astarion brings you something he hasn't bought it.

And you are more than fine with it.

You steal things for him, too.

Mostly, pieces of clothing. Sometimes jewelry. Often - books.

Date nights? How about breaking into someone's mansion whose owner has hoarded pieces of art and hidden them from people?

Goine through private galleries with Astarion giving you a lecture about art?

Or maybe swimming in someone's private pool?

And having sex in the rich people's luxury beds?

There are a lot of ways to have fun if you are two rogues!

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @astarion-beloved @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars

[vixstarria]

'Erotic misadventures'

Hello, I wrote this for an April Fools challenge, and now it is your problem.

Challenge terms: The challenge is simple - write something spicy that uses the worst possible terms for body parts, sex acts, and so on!

AO3 link

So I've always had this headcanon that Tav and Astarion perform readings of really bad erotica for the group at camp. This is a depiction of one such evening.

All origin characters.

18+, humor, banter. Is this actually smut? I don't know. I hope not.

Content warnings: ...Yes.

Approx. 1,800 words

It was, without a shadow of a doubt, the best piece of fiction they’d ever come across.

Meticulously handwritten in a tidy script, the text filled a sizeable journal. “Her Highness’s Erotic Misadventures” read the title. “Thank you for beta reading, Harpy Quinn”, it said at the bottom of the title page, whatever that meant. 

Despite both of them having a professional interest in lewd literature, neither Astarion nor Tav had ever come across this piece before - they doubted it had ever been published. They doubted it could ever be published, for that matter. However, it must have gone through many hands privately - on flipping through the journal it was discovered that the end contained a multitude of little gushing reviews in other people’s writing.

The author must have been one strange individual, with even weirder friends. How embarrassing.

The gang had called it a day and were gathered around the campfire. Astarion and Tav had been taking turns reading from the manuscript, to their companions’ amusement (and, in Gale’s case, vexation).

Despite being seasoned experts in the genre, Wyll and Shadowheart were visibly perturbed (albeit also intrigued) by the piece. Karlach hung on to every word, and even Lae’zel had stopped tending to her weapons to listen to the strange tale spun by the anonymous author. Volo, whose unwarranted presence continued to be tolerated, although no one could quite pinpoint why, was silent, furiously scribbling notes in his own journal. And as for Gale, well…

“This is deplorable,” said Gale, weary disappointment and disdain in his voice. “The only reason I am still here is because none of you can be trusted with the pot.”

 Astarion ignored him and continued to pace around the fire, reading aloud from the journal.

As the title suggested, the story depicted a series of obscene misfortunes which had befallen a hapless princess and her loyal knight. After several chapters of delving into the princess’s tragic and salacious backstory in (frankly bewildering) detail, the narrative had at last moved forward to a scene in which the princess’s knight came to her rescue after she had been kidnapped and taken away to a cave by a dragon. The knight faced the said dragon (who had then taken a dragonborn form for some reason) and its two harpy henchwomen.

“‘Its weak spot is its bussy’, the princess cried out from the cave,” read Astarion. “What in the hells is a ‘bussy’..?” he asked, lifting his head to seek counsel from his companions. 

Everyone around the fire just shook their heads, equally perplexed. 

“Hmm… Well, it seems our hero doesn’t know that word either...” Astarion continued reading.

“‘Puzzled, the paladin took a shot in the dark, cramming her manhood-’ Wait, what? I could have sworn...” Astarion shuffled through the pages. “…Oh she’s got both sets. How convenient… Anyway. …‘Cramming her manhood into the dragonborn’s meatgrinder’.” Astarion frowned again, sitting down next to Karlach.  

“Is the ‘meatgrinder’ the dragonborn’s mouth, or..?” asked Shadowheart.  

“I… think so? There’s not many contextual clues here, it just says that the ‘meatgrinder swirled around her pork sword, stunning her and nearly making her forsake her oath of propriety’.” 

“Well keep going, we’ll figure it out,” Karlach said, impatiently.

“The two harpies swarmed the stunned paladin. A hand deftly shed the paladin’s breastplate, exposing her pearls, whilst another grabbed her by the neck, clawed fingers shredding the remnants of her clothing, as two hands groped and teased her milkbags. She felt a hand creep up the back of her thigh while another hand pulled on her hair, as another crept to her moistening oyster-” Astarion stopped, with an exasperated sigh. “How many hands do these bloody things have?! I’m losing focus.” 

“And the mention of pearls…” Wyll said, thoughtfully. “It’s peculiar, you would think a pearl would be inside the… never mind”.  

 “Shadowheart, could you and Tav assist us with a visual, perchance,” asked Astarion. “I can’t be the only one who can’t keep track.”

“Perhaps I could also be of assis-” started Wyll.  

“Perhaps you could sit right back down,” Astarion warned with a glower. “I'll step in if needed. Where was I..? Ah yes, the err… the milkbags. So there’s definitely two hands there.”  

Both Tav and Shadowheart giggled as Shadowheart stood to join Tav by the fire and reached around Tav to lightly place her hands over the other woman’s breasts.

“Nice,” said Karlach. 

“The harpy pinched her pearls, and pulled her into a deep, ravishing kiss,” Astarion read, looking up expectantly at Tav and Shadowheart.

“Uh… That is not in the book, soldier,” said Karlach, reading over Astarion’s shoulder.  

“Spoilsport,” muttered Astarion. “I was just trying to set the mood before moving forward - the author’s pace is almost too relentless even for me. But fine.” 

Astarion cleared his throat and continued. 

“Then one of the harpies used her hands to pry open the paladin’s clam.” He looked up again. “Well come on, Shadowheart, pry open Tav’s clam.” 

Shadowheart simply laughed and returned to her spot across the fire. 

“If you’re not sure how - we could show you later tonight, if you like,” Astarion called out after her. 

“I’m sure I could give you some pointers on dealing with clams, Astarion,” retorted Shadowheart. 

“Is that so..?” he purred. “Interesting… What about you, Karlach, are you adept with clams?” 

“You know I haven’t had any clams in a decade, fangs!” Karlach groaned. “But before that… They used to just fling themselves at me, already opened, yeah.” 

“Fascinating. Lae’zel?” 

“There are a number of women who have survived bedding me,” the githyanki responded, deadpan. 

“I am… in equal parts concerned and aroused at the thought,” Astarion mulled over her words. 

“I wish anyone could survive bedding me,” grumbled Karlach. 

“There there, darling…” Astarion reached out to carefully pat her on a horn. “Now we all know Gale doesn’t know the first thing about clams…” 

“I’ll have you know, in my ethereal relations with my goddess, our connection was so profound that not only have I experienced her ‘clam’, I have interconnected with it on such a sublime and intimate level, been woven so deeply into it to myself have become part of the clam.” 

Gale’s outburst failed to have the effect he had desired, as the group struggled to contain themselves, wheezing and huffing for air. 

“Thank you, Gale, I don’t believe I’ll be able to get that image out of my mind anytime soon,” Astarion continued, trying to maintain his composure. “Wyll..? How fare you with prying clams open?” 

“Well…” The warlock began, with a smile. “I find, that the best way to go about it is to allow the clam to open of its own accord, from heat. From it getting sufficiently… steamy, if I may. I would never simply invade one with my blade.” 

Astarion was about to say something but just chortled instead. 

“Wyll, you rapscallion, every time I think I have you figured out-” 

“What happens next with the harpies?” Came an impatient call from Lae’zel. 

“Yes, give me that, you’re taking too long,” said Tav, snatching the journal back from Astarion. She continued to pace around the fire as she recited: 

“The dragonborn stood before the browbeaten paladin, reveling in her anguish. Even had the harpies not had a firm grasp on the paladin and her unmentionables, she would not have known how to approach the dragonborn – the loathsome creature was covered in impenetrable scales. Its mouth sported rows upon rows of sharp teeth – the only reason it allowed the paladin’s mutton machete out unscathed must have been because it had worse yet torments in mind for it.

The creature turned its back on the paladin, to roar tauntingly at the princess somewhere in the cave. 

‘Behold, as I turn your valiant saviour into naught but a pathetic cumdumpster!’

As it turned its back, the paladin glimpsed a narrow, pink orifice beneath its tail.” 

Karlach and Wyll gasped in unison.  

“The bussy!” Lae’zel hissed in a hushed whisper. 

“The paladin drew on the last of her divine power to throw the harpies off, smiting them unconscious, and plunged her hand into the dragonborn’s puckered hole.” 

“I am going to be sick,” moaned Gale. 

“The dragonborn cackled and flexed their beef ring, tightening its grasp on the paladin’s hand. The paladin reeled in horror, as the dragonborn’s poop chute seemed to suck the paladin’s hand further in, like fleshy quicksand, whilst threatening to snap her wrist.”

A tear of anguish slid down Gale’s cheek.

“It cannot be! Was the bussy a trap?!” came an outcry from Lae’zel.

“No! It could not end this way. Her entire life and all her training had been preparing her for this,” Tav read. “What in the hells, really?” she muttered, before continuing. “In that moment, she knew that the only way out - was through. The paladin took a deep breath and PLUNGED her arm deeper into the dragonborn’s vile cavity,” Tav exclaimed, throwing her own fist in the the air, to the sound of Astarion’s uncontrollable giggling and everyone else’s gasps.

“The dragonborn yelped and tried to expel the paladin’s arm from their pulsating dirtbox, to no avail. The paladin was now elbow deep in the mud dungeon. The two continued to wrestle, the paladin’s arm pumping deeper and deeper into the dragonborn’s dank portal.”

“I fear I may need to tap out soon,” warned Wyll.

“Weakling!” Lae’zel and Shadowheart said in unison, before glaring at one another.

No one, including Karlach herself, could tell whether she was laughing or crying.

“At last, the dragonborn seemed to accept its fate, quivering and taking the paladin’s arm nearly shoulder-deep. The creature grunted and groaned, before stilling, only to unleash an earth-shaking roar, finally forcefully expunging the paladin’s arm in a spray of gooey, milky spunk, as it collapsed on the ground, convulsing, clearly too incapacitated to be of any further threat.”

“Supper is ready,” wept Gale. 

“Shall I take over while you eat?” Astarion asked, to Gale’s immediate renewed protestation.

“That’s alright, I think we should take some mercy on Gale and pause here for the day,” said Tav. “Although let me peek ahead, perhaps it’s tame enough.” She took the journal and flipped forward a few pages. “Oh my…” came a surprised murmur from Tav. “You’ll never guess what happens to the princess and her knight… This may be a problem if we want to continue to visualise this masterpiece properly.” 

“Oh? Dare I ask..?” Astarion was giddy with anticipation. 

“Well… There are now… Five… Six… No, seven! Seven dwarves, who have appeared in the cave.” 

“Goodness gracious,” lamented Astarion. “We will never keep track of all the body parts… Perhaps if Withers steps in to help..? Would you prefer to be the princess or the knight, darling? You can choose, I’ll take the other role.” 

“I am going to use that journal for kindling tomorrow,” said Gale. 

“NO!” came a collective shout from the rest of the group. 

~~~~~

Sorry about the psychic damage, come check out my other work if you dare.

~~~~~

Tagging the usual plus some people who I think might also be doing / were interested in this:

@littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny @spunky-89 @acourtofpenandpaper @yoonshope @lariatbunny @whiskeyskin @spacebarbarianweird @brabblesblog @littlejuicebox @icybluepenguin @snowfolly @pursuitseternal @comatosebunny09 @kittenintheden @bardic-inspo @tavyliasin

[autistichalsin]

So @dorky-malorky left a really good reply on this post I made earlier, and it was so good I had to reply- BUT my reply got way too long, so I'm making a new post. I'm going to quote their reply, and then add my own under.

So true, besties. As someone who was bullied pretty mercilessly all through grade school and right up until graduation, I see a lot of that same mask in Halsin. He puts up with so much and it's not because he's a sage wise old druid, it's because he has unresolved trauma!!! Man basically says Thaniel was his only friend growing up and that's why he became a druid. Imagine making a friend as a little kid and then finding out that no one else knows of him or can even see him. To all those people Thaniel may as well have been an imaginary playmate to a sad lonely boy. Then he grows up and loses pretty much everyone he cares about. He's cut off from Thaniel, he's cut off from his peers, and he puts so much of the blame on himself for that. Then he's thrust into a position of leadership where he, again, struggles to make connections. Sure some people at the grove are like 'sure wish Halsin was here' but then they all just go along with Khaga and the Rite of Thorns anyways instead of doing anything about it and they basically write him off as lost. In my view, Halsin has just been swallowing grief and disappointment his whole life and has been putting on the brave face because that's what people expect from him. Don't make waves, just keep on keeping on. Even with Tav and the tadpole crew he will keep swallowing that same shit beyond what a normal person would put up with because Halsin just wants to belong. He will take scraps if that's all he can get, and be thankful for it, when what he deserves is to be at the table with everyone else. And the heartbreaking thing is just how deeply he cares despite everything he's gone through. He could be bitter and angry like Astarion, but instead he suppresses and buries the hurt way down deep, and just keeps going, holding onto a hope that the future will be a better place. :(

And here is my response:

ALL OF THIS. There is a REASON so much of the fandom has independently come to the conclusion that Halsin is both autistic and a victim of bullying- realize it or not, the writers just put too many tell-tale behaviors in.

Your part about taking scraps just hits the nail on the head. He takes whatever the player gives, and he is still so damn nice- if he loses all of his approval towards the player (which is quite a feat since rescuing Thaniel and breaking the curse gets you 40-50 depending on choices made) he may be snippy in his greetings and in his point-n-click lines which are currently bugged, but he still never actually... really does anything about it.

And that he's able to still care after all of this- even setting aside headcanons, this is still a man who had few to no friends growing up, has been othered for his size and treated like his feelings don't matter, has lost everyone he loved, was made a sex slave for three years to one of the cruelest groups out there, with said slavery including seeing the bodies of other elves like him made into decorations, was forced to fight a huge battle and then faced a curse that killed so many friends of his that it would "take [him] a day and a night to recite the names of all the friends [he] lost" AND he had to kill the reanimated corpse of the previous Archdruid, a man he speaks admiringly of every time he mentions him, leaving him with survivor's guilt and pretty obvious PTSD, AND it took away his best/possibly only friend from childhood, he was forced into a leadership role he never wanted and in fact was actively miserable in, stressed to the point that he started thinking fondly of his past as a sex slave (with the implication being he romanticized it because he wanted not to have to be responsible for such hard decisions anymore) and with not a single soul to confide in who might tell him these thoughts weren't healthy, he spent years begging for help breaking the curse but even the Emerald Enclave was basically like "yeah you're on your own buddy", he fell into what was strongly implied to be alcoholism and had to swear it off entirely, his attempt to jump at the first chance he saw in 100 years to break the curse resulted in him being held captive again and tortured- by goblins, which got him mocked later- while his Grove was infiltrated, psyoped (seriously, too many people don't seem to know that Ketheric orchestrated the Shadow Druids infiltrating the Grove because he knew what a threat they/Halsin would be and wanted it neutralized) and turned against him by Kagha, requiring him to send in a new Archdruid while he left to try to solve the mindflayer crisis- and almost immediately discovering she was a better leader than he EVER was, which I'm sure left him with a feeling of not just inadequacy as he alluded to in his scenes, but also with a feeling he'd wasted all those 100 years trying to lead if he could have just handed it off to someone better all along, then after he finally breaks the curse that has been plaguing his homeland for 100 years he goes into the city, is promptly gut-punched with how much people, especially children, are suffering there, tries everything short of screaming to get people's attention that this is NOT OKAY and is promptly brushed off and dismissed at every turn, then finally goes to fight a Nether Brain to save the world, which he admits he had little faith he would survive- but he put on a brave face for the player (especially if romanced). And that's literally just the main canon path, not including things that can be done to him in darker branches, like his Grove being slaughtered and his attempt to avenge them all failing, or the Rite of Thorns succeeding and him losing his home forever, or him getting kidnapped by Orin, or, once that new update goes into place, him having casual sex with his friend/love interest (depending on the circumstances) and some prostitutes, opening up about his time as a sex slave, and then being promptly threatened to be sold back into slavery by the person he trusted. No, this stuff is literally just the main, good canon path.

I know people tend to say Halsin clearly worked through his traumas in a healthy way offscreen (this line gets used most with his time as a sex slave) but the lack of support system Halsin has, his inability to center his own needs, even to himself, for a single minute, his desperation to be validated for just a single moment, his idolization of the player if they break the curse even if they subsequently treat him badly, his emotions being so turbulent that he alludes to being unable to control his wildshape on two different occasions with both specifically being linked to turbulent emotions (one being intense arousal and excitement, the other being anger and fear when escaping the goblin camp at the player's side), all of which is incredibly unusual for any Druid let alone an Archdruid hailed as one of the most powerful around... none of this really?? points to that being true???

He doesn't act like he is a wise, zen old Druid, he acts like he's trying to be a wise, zen old Druid, and there is a huge difference.

[bluerose5]

hmmmm... maybe Zevran/Halsin, whether on its own or as a side to Zev and Astarion

(for @melvinthedepressedrobot )

Can I just say how much I loved writing this? 💙

"I've been thinking about what you said."

Halsin didn't even so much as flinch when Zevran snuck up behind him, staring up at the moon as the latter took a seat at his side on the ground. He spared Zevran a questioning glance, followed by a soft smile.

His chest warmed at his very sight of him.

"I think you might need to be more specific than that," Halsin told him. "We have spoken about a lot these past few days."

An understatement, if there ever was one.

Zevran took a deep breath, bracing himself.

"You mentioned before that you wanted more."

Halsin instantly replied, "I still do."

Zevran’s heart fluttered at that, but he was quick to avert his eyes, ducking his head with a furrowed brow.

"Which is to be expected," Zevran joked, but he gave up on that approach as soon as his attempt at humor fell flat. "I guess that my uncertainty lies in the fact that I—" Feeling a lump form in the back of his throat, Zevran swallowed past it, his stomach twisting into knots while he forced the words out. His voice lowered into a whisper. "I do not believe that I can be what you want me to be."

Halsin watched him closely, but Zevran was careful not to meet his eyes. It felt as if he was sporting a fresh wound, left raw and open and vulnerable before him.

"What do you mean by that?" Halsin asked, gentle, patient.

Too good for this world.

"Look," Zevran sighed, combing his fingers through his hair in frustration. "I am what I am, and what I am is a killer. A liar. A thief. I enjoy what I do. I am no hero, I will not pretend to be, and I will not change who I am for the sake of another. I have lived my life far too long as a tool, honed into a weapon for others to use as they saw fit. I cannot— will not become anyone or anything else besides what I want to be."

A fact that Astarion knew and related to all too well.

It was part of the reason why he and Zevran worked so well together, but Halsin was another matter entirely.

A second of silence passed between them before Zevran felt a hand cup his cheek.

He couldn't help it. He leaned into Halsin's palm, and he met his eyes.

Halsin's thumb brushed along the outline of his cheek.

Eventually, he asked, "Why would I dare hold a paintbrush to what is already a masterpiece?"

Zevran choked on a mix between a laugh and a sob, staring at him with a wobbly smile.

He didn't even realize a tear had fallen until he felt Halsin's thumb smear it across his skin.

"Why would I seek to change the one who makes my heart stir with so much joy?" Halsin breathed. "I know perfectly well what you are capable of, but I would not dare try to alter your nature. You said it yourself. You are who you are, and I very much like who that person is."

"Halsin—"

"You care so much for those around you, for the world you live in," he continued without skipping a beat, "yet you give yourself so little credit. You have achieved so much already. I am in awe of you."

Zevran stared at him, unable to comprehend how he got so lucky.

"You spoke with Astarion." Not a question, but a statement.

"I did," Halsin said, shifting closer to him. "Both as a necessity and as a show of openness and honesty. I told him of my feelings for you, of what I wanted, and I answered any questions he had to the best of my abilities. He seemed to appreciate that, I think." He paused, considering. "And you? Did you speak with him?"

"I did," Zevran answered. "He needed some reassurance."

Halsin nodded in understanding.

"As to be expected."

"But he was open to what you suggested." Which was mind-boggling to Zevran. He didn't expect to care for another in such a way when he ended up in Faerûn. He didn't expect to find a reason to stay. To be able to share in that experience with not just one but two others again? There were no words to describe how he felt in that moment. "You know, the last time I was involved in such an arrangement, it ended only in tragedy. Most of it inflicted by my own hand, no less."

Taliesen. Rinna...

There came a vulnerability to being with another, opening up all sorts of doors to potential heartbreak.

"That need not be our fate," Halsin assured him.

Zevran decided to take a chance.

He decided that Halsin and Astarion were worth the risk.

"Then, kiss me."

"Gladly."

And when their lips finally met, Halsin took his breath away.