#love the angst thank you for the angst larian

[warlordfelwinter]

as much as i love the choices i went with which were rain managing to make like. meaningful eye contact through his feral thrashings i have to assume, i do also love the choices here of just biting and growling. some sort of Creachur

[janearts]

Loved reading your thoughts for Roisia's companion quest! Do you have any thoughts on how Roisia would resolve the situation with her father while she is the protagonist? Would one of her companions (like Wyll or Karlach, perhaps) notice that her father is unhappy as he is and remark on it, which could help sway her in one or another direction? Or are you just letting all of the possible resolutions live as nebulously-canon at this point? (I'd be so curious to know how she'd feel about the Avatar of Kelemvor asking her to kill Astarion who she romanced, were she put in that situation.)

[The ask refers to these thoughts on Roisia as a companion.]

Thank you!! I'm glad you enjoyed it. I've answered your questions below the read-more.

Do you have any thoughts on how Roisia would resolve the situation with her father while she is the protagonist?

Roisia would be oblivious to the fact that her father is deeply unhappy with the current state of affairs. Roisia is too fixated on the fact that he's here again and she gets to have more time with her father (her gain) than on the fact that his life in the here and now is fundamentally different from how it used to be (his loss).

Unfortunately, Roisia would not resolve the situation with her father because she's not aware there is a situation to be resolved.

Would one of her companions (like Wyll or Karlach, perhaps) notice that her father is unhappy as he is and remark on it, which could help sway her in one or another direction?

I thought that Wyll would gravitate to Roisia's mother since they're both monster hunters or Yasmin was at one point anyway. (Yasmin can show him the trophy room!) I see the same thing happening with Karlach. I thought that Shadowheart or Halsin would be more intuitive when it came to Jairus, but I also considered that Astarion might clue in as well as an "undead creature" himself. I don't know if any of them would remark on it to Roisia, however. If they did, my concern would be that Roisia would persist in the belief that the solution to her father's unhappiness is the true restoration of flesh and bone rather than asking him if he would prefer a merciful death at this point.

Or are you just letting all of the possible resolutions live as nebulously-canon at this point?

100%. As far as I'm concerned, all of the resolutions I outlined are possible, but none of the resolutions are canon. (Or they're nebulously-canon as you've said.) I scripted what I thought could happen if Larian were to say, "Hey, I need you to write a companion quest for Roisia that has a beginning, middle, and an end." But as an artist outside of that hypothetical scenario, I definitely like to live in the middle of the story.

(I'd be so curious to know how she'd feel about the Avatar of Kelemvor asking her to kill Astarion who she romanced, were she put in that situation.)

By my own fictional parameters, I played a game in which I encouraged Roisia to pursue Necromancy, which means that she is deeply, deeply familiar with the spark of humanity that lies within the undead. She has tried to wheedle information out of Withers, reunited Mayrina with her undead husband, freed Thrumbo and his zombie compatriots from their mummy lord, she's talked with ghouls and ghasts, and has freed Astarion from his vampire master.

So even if she hadn't romanced Astarion, she would still deny the Avatar of Kelemvor because the undead aren't just glorified field experiments to her, they're fully-fledged people in their own right, worthy of care and having a voice in their own destiny.

The fact that she romanced Astarion just adds angst to the picture because she would be asked to choose between two [undead] people whom she loves very dearly. She so very badly wants to restore her father to how he was when he was alive and a part of her still wants to be a Cleric of Kelemvor, but she wouldn't be able to bring herself to kill Astarion. (Which he knew. Of course. Naturally. Didn't have a single doubt or a flicker of fear in his mind at all.)

[brabblesblog]

Ch 14: For love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave

Astarion has ascended, and she has stayed with him. Life in the Crimson Palace isn’t as idyllic as it seems. Is there a chance for their relationship to go back to how it was? Or is it too late for the Ascendant and his consort?

This series is about Ban, my Tav, and the Vampire Ascendant. Will be angst and smut, with sprinkles of fluff.

This fic is a softer take on Ascendant!Astarion and of the changes he undergoes after the rite. Can Ban handle the change, and if a chance came, would she choose to run? And can the Ascendant win her back in time? Inspired by the concept of vampire wives and that IGN interview with Larian that discussed the ascension.

Professionally edited by @editing-by-night

The rescue attempt goes off with some hitches.

Read on AO3.

Masterlist.

The morning light was streaming through the window when Astarion looked up to see Gale walk into the room. His tressym followed, fixing Astarion with a stare that felt a little too penetrating for what was, in his not-so-humble opinion, essentially a glorified cat.

“Are you ready?” Gale asked, leaning on his staff.

“Indeed.” Astarion’s tone was surly, an attempt to mask his weariness. He had maintained the mental link with Ban until she had fallen asleep. Even now a part of him cradled her mind, soothing her through the worst of the torment.

Astarion belatedly realized that he was not only exhausted, he was hungry and having difficulty concentrating. He’d only had one meal since arriving in Waterdeep, and between maintaining the mental link for so long and his state of stress, the lack of sleep and blood was noticeable. Today, he was especially glad that the sanguine hunger no longer tormented him, but blood helped him maintain his strength, kept his mind clear, and gave him energy. Energy he desperately could have used today. Grumbling, he picked up Woe.

“Do you need me to reiterate the-”

“Gods, Gale. Do you think me so stupid I can’t remember your frankly rudimentary plan?” Astarion waved a hand dismissively. “Let’s just go.”

Gale exhaled. “Here.” He stepped forward, holding out a small pouch.

Astarion hesitated before gingerly accepting the proffered bag with some suspicion.

“Healing potions. I prepared two. One for her, one for… potential mishaps.”

Astarion tucked the pouch away. “Thank you.” The words came out in an awkward drawl, his discomfort in expressing gratitude obvious.

The tressym kept staring at Astarion; he glanced down at it, fidgeting under its piercing gaze. “If your claws and teeth matched the enormity of your judgment, cat, then I’d perhaps be interested to hear what you have to say.”

“Tara,” Gale chided gently, though he wasn’t surprised she disapproved of the Ascendant. Gale had told her everything; she was fond of Ban and she’d rather liked when Ban had stayed with them.

She fixed Gale with a long, hard stare before turning to leave, flicking her tail haughtily as she went.

“Sorry,” Gale shrugged.

Astarion didn’t deign to answer, although he was privately rather affronted by her judgment. Damned cat.

Gale led Astarion through Waterdeep, heading for the Stedez mansion. It was far smaller than the Crimson Palace, though no less imposing. Astarion stayed a few steps behind him, mind still connected to Ban’s. As they approached the mansion, she kept slipping in and out of consciousness. He could see through her eyes each time she awoke, the visions merely feeding his rage.

“They should be asleep,” Gale mused. In theory, it would be easy to sneak in undetected, free Ban, and slip back out. But he wasn’t sure if Astarion was willing to let this affront go unpunished. He wasn’t sure if he was willing to let it go, either.

“Well if they aren’t,” Astarion hissed, his eyes glinting with a devilish glee that bordered on madness. “All the better.”

Gale stood in front of the large door of the Stedez mansion, steeling himself before knocking. He was disguised as an elf. Astarion hid nearby, invisible. All part of the plan, and yet Gale couldn’t help but feel apprehensive. It had been more than half a year since he had done anything remotely close to this, and he wondered if he was still capable. These days he was a professor, not a warrior, his life revolving around his students and books.

And sometimes Ban, he thought ruefully. The time she’d spent in his tower had been special.

Gale turned his attention back to the matter at hand as the door creaked open.

A tall, scantily clad servant eyed Gale curiously. Just like Cazador, Vel Stedez’s public persona was that of an affluent, if eccentric, nobleman. As such, the mansion rarely received visitors.

“Greetings,” the servant said, “You seem… lost. What can I do for you?”

“Is this not Saer Vel Stedez’s abode?” Gale offered his most winsome smile. “I’m here on behalf of the Blackstaff Academy. Saer Vel and I have corresponded about his most generous donation, for which the Academy is very grateful. In fact,” Gale held up an index finger, “I am here today to discuss a ball the Academy wishes to host in his honor!”

The servant hesitated. No instructions regarding visitors had been given today, but her vain master would most certainly want to hear about this. Gale noticed her moment of indecision and pressed his advantage, stepping forward so the servant was forced to open the door far enough for Astarion to very carefully slip inside, a small whisper of air the only sign of his movement.

“I- of course, saer,” the servant conceded. She beckoned Gale in, and he stepped over the threshold, shivering involuntarily at the chilly temperature inside the manse.

Gale noted that the house was eerily reminiscent of Cazador’s - and Astarion’s - iterations of the Szarr Mansion.

Dark marble floors and mahogany walls lent a sense of ominousness, thick curtains blocking out any sunshine that threatened to shine through. The air was stale, cold and tomblike, as if the mansion was frozen in time.

Astarion noticed the similarities too, stifling a snort. At least our marble is white. That had been Ban’s idea. The thought caused a pang of worry; he pushed it away quickly. Moving past Gale and the servant, he headed deeper into the mansion, taking the first set of stairs he found leading down.

Meanwhile, Gale let the servant lead him to a study.

“Saer…” the servant began, fishing for his name.

“Er. Dammon,” Gale said, cursing himself for not thinking up a name ahead of time.

“Saer Dammon,” the servant continued. “Kindly wait here while I inform the master of your arrival.”

The prospect of meeting the vampire lord alone made Gale a bit anxious, but he nodded. It was a possibility he hadn't wanted to contemplate too closely when they had planned this, but if all hell broke loose he knew he would be able to handle one vampire.

He hoped Astarion got to Ban fast.

The dungeon smelled putrid, like sewers and rust and congealed blood-

The iron-rich scent gave Astarion a longing for blood - a now-unfamiliar craving, all but forgotten after all this time. It caught him by surprise. He hadn’t hungered for blood, not since the rite, but the smell of it reminded him of just how exhausted he was. Some blood would be the perfect thing to perk him up. He sighed, shaking his head, and pushed on.

The dungeons were unguarded, just as Gale had surmised. After all, Vel’s coven lacked crucial information: the Ascendant didn’t need to be invited in to enter a domicile.

His eyes scanned the dimly lit dungeon, searching for Ban. He spotted her in the furthest cell and rushed forward with preternatural speed. As he reached the cell, Gale’s concentration broke; Astarion’s hands and body became visible again.

Ban? He tried to nudge her mind, and felt her stir.

The sight of her chained to the damp wall, her body sagging onto the filthy floor, broke his heart. Ban was mostly unharmed, though those cruel silver manacles had severely burned her wrists. He’d seen more than his fair share of torture, of course, but seeing it done to her brought forth a wave of indignation so strong it instantly became wrath.

How dare they. I will burn this entire mansion and everyone in it to ash for this.

He pulled out his tools, nimble hands working at the lock of the cell door, but it took longer to pick than it should have, owing to his trembling fingers.

Astarion heard a satisfying click and pushed the door open. Ban’s eyes opened and took a moment to focus, finally settling on him. He rushed forward, wrapping his arms around her tightly.

“You’re okay. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

I’ve got you. Words he’d spoken before she’d told him she loved him for the very first time. Words she’d told him the night before the rite. Always meant, always realized.

Ban merely nodded in response, slumping tiredly into Astarion’s arms. The movement caused her wrists to drag against the manacles and she gasped. He looked up at them, frowning, assessing the locks.

“Let me get you out.”

He reached for the first manacle, fingers moving across the surface of the silver. It made his skin sizzle, his fingertips burning where they made contact. The pain was sharp, but pain wasn’t new to him; he ignored it. He quickly worked one manacle open, then the other.

Ban’s hands fell to her sides; they'd gone numb after being held up for so long. Astarion firmly rubbed her arms to encourage blood flow, avoiding the burned parts of her wrists.

“Ban.” When she didn’t respond immediately, concern flooded him. He tapped her face hoping to rouse her, to no avail. Reaching into the pouch Gale had provided, he took out a flask and uncapped it. “Drink,” he urged, his eyes locked on her as she complied.

He gave her another once-over, noting that her complexion looked better. But not enough so. He fingered the cap of the remaining potion, debating. He could have her drink it now, but what if she needed it later? She could barely move, but he couldn’t risk using their last potion yet.

Determined, he reached a decision.

Ban watched with dazed eyes as Astarion lowered himself to her, cradling her head and tilting his head to bare his neck, a gesture that needed no words.

She obliged, fangs sinking into the scars Cazador had made centuries ago. She drank ravenously, her instincts taking over.

Astarion felt the icy numbness begin; the tips of his ears and his fingers started to grow numb. In spite of the situation, he felt a flood of contentment fill him. Ban had so rarely bitten him that even in this filthy dungeon, the joy of nourishing her was immense. Exhausted as he was, though, it didn’t take long for his vision to start to blur and his heart to flutter. He lifted a hand to her shoulder, a gentle reminder to stop.

The memory of the first time he bit her came to him unbidden; he couldn’t help the small smile that crossed his face.

Ban immediately stilled at the touch, pulling her fangs out of his flesh. After a light swipe of her thumb to clean up, she leaned back.

“Sorry. I jus-” She looked down at her shirt, at the tear where the stake had been shoved in. “I still can’t believe I’m alive…”

Astarion felt only relief suffusing his being. He cupped Ban’s cheek and leaned in. The urge to kiss her was overwhelming, but he hesitated. We don’t have the luxury of time.

“Let’s go,” he said, “It’s daytime. Most of them should be asleep.”

Ban followed Astarion out of the cell, but paused as his words sunk in - most?

“You said ‘most’.”

He sighed. “Yes. Unfortunately I suspect the master of the house to be awake.” Gale’s plan, after all, had hinged on it. He explained the plan to Ban, retrieving Woe from where he’d dropped it in his rush to free her.

“You expected Gale to - to distract Vel?” Ban was incredulous. Gale, really?

“Well- who else? Would you rather it be me doing the talking while Gale snuck around?”

She conceded the point. Gale had always been atrocious at stealth.

“So we have to kill Vel.” Ban spied a chest near the entrance of the dungeon; she opened it to reveal her pack and her sword. She dug through the pack, tossing out various unneeded items, then slung the now-lighter pack over her shoulder. She kept her sword in hand.

“I’m not displeased by the notion?” Astarion smirked. “But I didn’t exactly promise Gale I’d save him either, you know.”

“Ass.” She tried to smack his arm but he dodged it easily, his laughter pealing a little too loudly for the situation they were currently in. “If anything, you should be thanking Gale for coming with you.”

The laughter died and Astarion turned solemn. “He’s here for you. If he had his way I would be staked somewhere and you’d be in his arms.”

“Perhaps.” Ban shrugged. She looked at her husband, noting the taut expression and the tense set of his shoulders. “Problem?”

He took a moment to answer, gathering his thoughts. “I’m… envious of how easy it is for him to get you to confide in him. How easily you confide in all of them.” To trust them.

Astarion knew that Ban loved him the most; he did not doubt that at all. But did she truly trust him? It wasn’t something that would return without work from the both of them, he was perfectly aware, and yet the feeling was there. Jealousy, poisonous and foul and always lurking in his chest.

Before Ban could assuage his fears, they were back at the entrance hall.

“Do you know where-”

The question died in Ban’s throat. There was a disturbance in one of the rooms, going by the sounds emanating from it. They both rushed forward; Ban shouted for Gale, trying to ascertain his current state. Once again, Astarion found himself resenting the wizard.

The door was ajar; Ban rushed in to see an elf being held down by Enxisys and Miaxisys. The elf looked up at her, and she realized it was Gale. He was on his knees, his staff on the ground in front of him.

Astarion, right on Ban’s tail, halted for a different reason. Enxisys and Miaxisys were holding onto Gale, but their gazes were fixed on Astarion, numb expressions entirely too familiar. It brought forth a wave of memories, recollections that he had been pushing away - hiding from - since the rite. He forced them down as best he could, focusing on Vel and the situation at hand, but he wasn’t wholly successful.

“Look who decided to join us, hm?” Vel said, rounding on Ban. She immediately leveled her sword at his chest.

“Not another step,” Ban growled.

Vel laughed, raising his hand, Rhapsody in his grasp. “See, I knew the wizard would come to save you,” he said, pointing the dagger at the disguised Gale. “What I didn’t expect-”

Four more of Vel’s spawn came in behind Ban and Astarion as their master spoke, blocking their retreat.

“-was you, Ascendant.” The words were spat out, the contempt unmistakable.

“If you thought I wouldn’t come for her-“

“Oh, no! I know you’d come, eventually.” Vel snapped his fingers and the four vampires blocking the door closed the distance, crowding Ban and Astarion from behind. “That was the whole point.” He waved his hand indifferently.

“But I honestly expected you to make someone else do the grunt work first. I didn’t consider the fact that you might be able to… circumvent… some of our kind’s more peculiar quirks.”

“You know perfectly well I am stronger than you could ever hope to be, and yet you didn’t consider the possibility that I could enter your home uninvited as well?” He laughed without humor. “I can circumvent whatever the hells I damn well please, Vel. That includes your miserable existence.” He took a step towards Vel. Immediately the four spawn reacted, surrounding Astarion.

Ban weighed the situation. Seven vampires - well, six spawn and a vampire lord - against Gale, Astarion, and herself. Manageable, but not without risk. Especially with Gale held down and Astarion having given her so much of his blood. She would have laughed if it wasn’t such an ill-timed moment.

Rapidly, she reached a conclusion. She squared her shoulders and shot Gale a meaningful look.

Get ready.

Almost imperceptibly, Gale nodded.

The three of them glanced at each other, the long months of fighting as a unit resurfacing with ease. Everyone braced.

It all happened in an instant.

Ban dropped her pack and activated giant form, greatsword rising as though to cut Vel down. She knew she would miss - and indeed, as she swung Vel dodged effortlessly - but it was enough to draw Enxisys’ and Miaxisys’ attention. Their grip on Gale eased as they hesitated, torn between their obligation to protect their master and holding Gale down.

It was all Gale needed. He rose, Markoheshkir in hand, and called lightning. It struck the twins, Vel, and one of the four spawn near Astarion. The spawn did not get up.

Astarion seized the opportunity, turning to one of the remaining spawn and blighting him. The spawn crumpled, meeting his second death.

Ban raised her arms for another strike at Vel, the arc of her sword cut short when a blur of motion passed in front of her. Astarion lunged at Vel with inhuman speed, pinning him to the ground and shoving his fist into Vel’s mouth.

He turned to Ban with a pained expression. Astarion had seen the way Vel’s spawn had looked at their master; had known that look.

“Wait!” he panted. Vel was thrashing and biting, but the Ascendant was unaffected, holding him down without effort, his other hand pinning down the arm holding Rhapsody.

The four surviving spawn froze, unsure. If they made a move, they would be overwhelmed by the wizard and the consort. If they didn’t, and their master survived, he would punish them for it…

“Ban.” Astarion’s pained expression deepened into anguish. “Let them do it. Let them do what I should have done.”

“Can they? Won’t he compel them not to hurt him?”

“Not if we cut out his tongue,” Astarion’s voice was severe, rough with emotion.

Belatedly, Ban and Gale realized why Astarion had his fist in Vel’s mouth. Ban nodded, stepping on Vel’s weapon hand so Astarion could let go. Gale picked up Woe from where Astarion had dropped it, his face somber.

Astarion pried Rhapsody from Vel’s hand. He pulled Vel’s offensive tongue from his mouth and severed it with one quick slice, tossing it to the side. Vel’s wordless screams should have been satisfying. But he felt no joy - only a pang of regret, of shame. Rhapsody fell from his grasp just as swiftly as he’d used it. The last time I cut someone with that dagger… He shuddered at the memory.

This should have been how it went for me. With his friends present and his siblings at his side, working together to end their master’s life.

Astarion pulled away from Vel’s face to kneel beside him, holding his chest down, breathing hard. He turned to the spawn. They stared at him, still uncertain.

“Go on,” he urged, “Take what should be yours. What should have always been yours. Your freedom awaits.”

Freedom. He offered Ban a sad smile.

It should have always been yours as well, my love.

Ban’s response was a small, sad smile and a flood of warmth through their connection.

Vel’s spawn seemed to be recovering from the shock. They approached one another, quietly discussing Astarion’s offer amongst themselves. One of the spawn, the drow male who had helped abduct Ban, murmured an apology to her.

But neither Ban nor Astarion noticed. The only thing they saw was each other, eyes locked as they shared their emotions through their bond. Astarion’s mind was in turmoil, a dark maelstrom of conflicting, stormy thoughts that threatened to envelop him. Endless waves of rage, fear, regret, shame, and sadness were swirling, building upon the other until they were very close to overwhelming him. Ban could feel that he was on the verge of panicking.

She quickly sheathed her sword and approached Astarion, offering him a hand up, pulling him into an embrace.

Astarion let Ban pull him up and into a hug, squeezing her as tightly as she held him. He wanted to sob, to finally say I did the right thing, but he knew it was too late for him. He’d hurt her, he’d murdered his siblings, he’d driven away his friends and sacrificed all seven thousand of those poor souls.

But as Ban had drawn him up, she had turned her back on Vel. Had lifted her boot from his wrist. Had caused Astarion to let him go.

Movement over Ban’s shoulder drew Astarion’s attention. He saw Vel rise lightning-fast, Rhapsody in hand, poised for a strike, blade already arching down towards Ban’s back.

If I can be enough for only one thing, I hope it will be saving her.

With every ounce of strength he could muster, Astarion shoved Ban to the side. He felt a flash of relief as she was flung across the room, out of range of Vel’s swing.

As it had sunk into his former master’s back, Rhapsody sank into Astarion’s breast.

Into his heart.

[ladyduellist]

BG3 TAG GAME ✨⚔️

This one looks like a lot of fun! Thanks to my lovely friend @verbenaa for thinking of me!

Favorite romance: Astarion. I think it goes without saying that a lot of people have been able to relate to his plight in some form: whether that is through physical abuse, sexual assault, emotional abuse, or other traumas. He is not a perfect man and is a downright shitty person in the beginning, but if we never give people a chance to grow, we will never see them bloom either. He is a great example of us taking the time to understand why a person is the way the are and having a bit of humbleness in that regard. Astarion isn't just his trauma and I believe there's a lot of lessons to be learned through his character. That's what initially attracted me to him.

Favorite class to play: This is the first DnD game I was able to experience playing as a bard and I instantly fell in love with it! Otherwise, I do really enjoy playing as a beefy fighter or monk!

Favorite NPC: Hmm...Kethric Thorm is the first that comes to mind. He stole the show for me in Act 2 and I found his character to be incredibly compelling. I also have a soft spot for Roland, Alfira, and that sweet baby angel gnome, Barcus Wroot.

Favorite song off the soundtrack: Wash My Dreams Away, Nine blades, Who Are You, and Weeping Dawn to name some!

Tell us a little about your Tav: Tavelle is a balance to Astarion. He is outwardly a charming prickly extravert that is inwardly unsure, afraid, and anxious. Tavelle, on the other hand, is outwardly a humble introvert that is inwardly calm, slowly processes things, with bouts of depression. She's corny, flirty, quiet, feels confident in the skills she knows—readily showing them off—but suffers from making real connections with people due to her severe trust issues and sometimes lack of self worth. I could go on and on and on about her honestly!

Something you wish was in the game: I think some of the companions need more development. Halsin, Wyll, and Minthara are lacking big time in those areas. I also wasn't thrilled with how Act 3 felt overall. While I did enjoy the quests, it felt too much like I was playing in a sandbox of filler fetch missions, instead of enriching the story we were already playing through. Also, I actually really liked the original idea Larian had planned for the tadpoles??? It seemed actually quite interesting!

Do you create fanworks? Share something with us: I am a lover of inner turmoil, angst, and poetry. If you are too, please check out Epistles of Saints & Sinners! This fic has been the longest project I've ever worked on in terms of writing and I have no plans of stopping anytime soon.

Tagging: @inkymoonbunny @preciouslittlebhaalbae @kalmiaphlox @bhaalsdeepbat @roguishcat

[imagineitdearies]

Speed-read the whole of perfect slaughter in 3 days i blame you for everything but also love you-

But seriously its so painful but so well written, puts you completely on edge and wanting to read more after every paragraph.

Super excited to read more! (No rush at all <3)

Haha feel free, the blame is entirely on me (or maybe 20% Larian?) for this angst fest 😂🩵

Thank you so much, I'm so glad the writing is enjoyable and engaging despite all the pain!! I look forward to sharing more with you all this weekend 🥰

[sakurainhellagain]

🌸 Brainrot Masterpost 🌸

Important: Reblog the things you like, otherwise they will vanish over time and no one else can see them anymore!!!

Playlist for more Durgetash angst (and some other good songs)

OC Profile of Sakura

Short fics (in chronological order):

Sakura's and Enver's childhood:

The demon in the village The rescue A normal day A new home Compassion Spring Market day

Sakura's and Enver's reunion as adults (pre-game):

Bhaal's offering In hell again

Headcanons:

Gortash tries to get Durge's memories back

Durge helps Gortash to dress fancy

Durge reads the prayer and makes a decision

They could be good for each other

Durge talking about the crown of Kharsus with Gortash

Gortash tells Karlach spicy details about Durge's past

Possibility why Durge has control of their urges

Gortash sold Karlach because of Durge

Gortash planned his inauguration to impress Durge/Tav

Durge tadpoles Gortash to get memories back

Larian made Gortash too hot

Durge gifted Gortash the cloth of authority

Feel free to draw my headcanons, but please tag me if you do 😇

I want to say thank you to all the modders out there providing us with the gorgeous mods we all craved for!!!!!

Especially @flymmsy for the burly Gortash mod 😍

I don't know if any of the other modders are on tumblr, so I just name the Nexus names 😇

Special thanks to: Nyra072, Djmr, Eralyne, Tsukisoft, AnteMaxx, Toarie, MUNMOMUU, figs999, dukethedropkicker

You are my heroes ❤️

And another thanks goes to the lovely community here on tumblr. You give me a safe space, it feels like home! Keep the brainrot going!

Sorry for my english, I am no native speaker 😶‍🌫️

[transxan]

heard you were bored so here are some questions :) (i realized halfway through that these are all durgetash because those little shits have taken over my mind) do you like leaning into the angst of durgetash or do you prefer the more lighthearted (aside from the atrocities) dynamic? if larian dropped a gortash romance, is there any icks that would absolutely ruin it for you?

or conversely, what would be the best thing they could add in a hypothetical gortash route?

what were your biggest inspirations for lophi and vyper? do you prefer one over the other or are they equal in your eyes?

(hopefully you won't have to answer these since you'll get out of work soon)

HELLO ANON. im sorry to tell you infact waited till i actually got home to answer these because i have!!! THOUGHTS and OPINIONS about the questions asked . thank you very much btw these are all really good questions ill have fun answering

FIRSTLY, it all depends on the kind of durge gortash is being paired w imo. with vyper i tend to lean more into These Two Are Fucking Insane while w/ lophi i lean more into the sort of melancholic 'angsty' side of durgetash that i think can be real yummy too. and it's all because of who vyper and lophi are as characters pre-tadpole, too. vyper liked being a loud insane freakus while lophi was a lot more reserved and kind of a miserable mess, and that informs their relationships w/ the characters around them. i think both are good and fun to explore and i definitely like exploring the more angsty side w vyper x gortash and vice versa w lophi x gortash, so. i guess both. really. LOL .

secondly, going to answer both of the gort romance related questions in one, but i think i'm probably in the unpopular opinion that gortash doesn't really neeeeeeeed a romance and i could go without it in game. i do think he deserves more content and screentime, but that's something i can say about orin also, and frankly a Lot of parts of act 3. me and act 3 have a toxic on/off again relationship. alright.

that being *said*, if i was mr larian and i was to implement a gortash romance, i'd have it be something exclusive to a durge/evil run. or at the very least, have it have consequences with your party (i.e karlach leaving or something. love gort but i do not think you should go off romancing him scott free).

i Do think having it be exclusive to a more evil-aligned run would help add more actual content to doing an evil run (and god knows we need some with how bg3 seems to like punishing people who just want to do the evil options They Gave You) and would make the most sense, but all in all i'd just hope it's handled better than the mizora sex scene cause god how that whole thing is handled still pisses me off. hopefully this all makes sense

tl;dr, its a fun idea but i can very easily go without it especially knowing how the game treated its one other antagonist romance option

now for the lophi and vyper question... i do obviously have my biases towards vyper /looks at my blog theme/, but i genuienlly cannot pick favourites with them besides that... i use them both to explore different aspects of the durge origin in different ways bc despite what some other people say i Do think you can be very flexible w durge as a concept despite the pre-established lore for them ^_^ and i think it's very fun to play around with.

as for specific inspirations, lophi takes a lot of insp from vintage pierrot art + has accidentally gotten a very 1920s makeup vibe in My Mind. i should also note her name comes from the scientific name for anglerfish, cuz thats what i had in mind when giving her those freaky sharp ass teeth i always draw her with

and while of course, both of my durges are trans, lophi specifically was birthed from my want to make a dark urge that leans in as heavily as she possibly could in the whole trans allegory thing. so theres that as well!

vyper's specific inspos are harder for me to pinpoint cause he's much more of a 'made up as i went' character than lophi, given he was my First dark urge and i didnt really fully know what i was going into all this yet while making him (and also i was maybe a little bit high while doing so...lol) THAT SAID THOUGH, i did initially make him with akira fudo from devilman in mind. he has the horn style he does because it reminded me of devilman ... although the akira insp is very lose and barely effects his character now.. ~_~ despite bg3 being my main fixation atm devilman is still a very very important piece of media to me so vyper being loosely akira-pilled is not too surprising if you know me well enough lololol

[brabblesblog]

Ch 6: Turn away thine eyes from me, for they have overcome me.

Astarion has ascended, and she has stayed with him. Life in the Crimson Palace isn’t as idyllic as it seems. Is there a chance for their relationship to go back to how it was? Or is it too late for the Ascendant and his consort?

This series is about Ban, my Tav, and the Vampire Ascendant. Will be angst and smut, with sprinkles of fluff.

This fic is a softer take on Ascendant!Astarion and of the changes he undergoes after the rite. Can Ban handle the change, and if a chance came, would she choose to run? And can the Ascendant win her back in time? Inspired by the concept of vampire wives and that IGN interview with Larian that discussed the ascension.

Professionally edited by @editing-by-night

Astarion attempts to deal with the threat of the Waterdeep covens. A party, his own feelings, and the tentative nature of his current relationship with his consort threaten to undo everything.

Read on AO3.

Masterlist.

Astarion considered the invitations laid out before him. He picked one up, feeling the quality of the parchment he’d selected for it. He normally wouldn’t bother to inspect these himself, relegating that task to the help. However, this wouldn’t be one of his typical soirées. He’d made the first move, inviting the largest coven in Waterdeep in the hopes of assuring them he had no designs upon their city - and that were he to, he’d be more than a match for them.

In the two months since his consort had abandoned him, most of the renovations to the Crimson Palace had been completed. The garden was now filled with flowers and fountains, the basement now ready for the guilds to rent and occupy in the daytime. He had made little progress in his conquest of Baldur’s Gate, however. Losing her had soured his drive, and hours that could have been spent strategizing were now unfortunately spent sulking.

He’d taken to walking the gardens, absently retreading a path he’d been taking often - from the stairs to the greenhouses, eyes barely taking in the statues on the balustrade, ambling past the sculpted hedges. In his mind she’d be beside him, admiring everything, commenting that a particularly sullen looking cherub looked a little like him. He’d sulk but be inwardly pleased.

His eyes flicked up from the stack of invitations, his gaze falling through the window to the garden outside. For a moment he allowed himself to imagine a figure walking amongst the bushes, fingers brushing over the flowers as she went. She would have loved it, he thought. They’d planned it together, and she had told him once that she’d always wanted a rose garden.

Well here it was. Roses of every shade, imported from all corners of Faerûn, and she hadn’t even been by to see it.

He knew she’d been in Baldur’s Gate for some time. He even knew which inn she was staying in. But he had given her space, hadn’t gone to see her or even attempted to touch her mind. Seduction, after all, was an act of patience. Of laying out your trap slowly, but surely. He could wait. They both have forever.

However, this party did necessitate her being present. The vampires had heard of his extravagant gifts to Ban and of his disastrous attempt to break the wards of Gale’s tower, and had correctly assumed that it meant trouble in their relationship. Astarion had done his best to assure them that no, he did not have a rogue daywalking bride he couldn’t rein in walking around Waterdeep - gods forbid! She’d been there to visit a friend, and they may have had a bit of a spat, but she was back in Baldur’s Gate and under his control and protection, thank you very much.

He returned the invitation to the pile. Time to stop putting off the inevitable. He stood and turned to the mirror, inspecting himself. Dressed in a crisp white shirt and black trousers, he looked elegant, but he didn't need the mirror to tell him that. He was aware that he turned heads everywhere he went; he’d always known, even back when he couldn’t see himself.

But the face in the mirror was uncertain. Scared. Still the spawn who had given his heart away unwittingly and utterly while he’d attempted to entice her to surrender hers. He was apprehensive about seeing her again - excited, but also worried. He preferred their relationship being up in the air rather than having a definite end. He couldn’t even consider the opposite result, as much as he wished for it - he knew she likely hated him too much to consider reconciliation.

Steeling himself, he slapped on a well-practiced sneer. He’d had these walls up for two centuries before he met her. He could utilize them again.

The Ascendant left the room, calling for a carriage to the Elfsong.

Ban stared in shock as she opened the door to her room to reveal Astarion. He was dressed down for today, just a suit jacket, shirt and trousers - a look he usually only wore when he didn’t need to leave the palace grounds. Still, she couldn't help but rake her eyes over him, from the perfectly coiffed curls, to the intense eyes, and the small curl of his lips. His posture exuded a lazy confidence, leaning on the doorframe.

“May I come in, pet?” He asked, voice perfectly level.

She nodded, taking a step back. He surveyed the room and her sparse belongings, sauntering over to take a seat on the bed.

“A shame for you to be living in such a small space.”

“Well, at least I’m free to do whatever I want,” she snapped back, seeing a flash of anger pass over his features.

His hand tightened on the corner of the bed, but he let the comment pass for now. “I need you to attend a ball in a tenday.”

He reached into his pocket, taking out an invitation and handing it to her. It addressed her as his consort, and she winced internally.

“One - how did you find me? Two - why should I even attend this? I’m not yours to command, Astarion. Never again.”

He let a small, amused chuckle escape him.

“You’re not hard to find. You’re a sentimental beast at heart, little love, and I had an educated guess on where you’d want to stay. All I had to do was fly by one morning, and there you were,” he said easily. What he didn’t say was that his heart had almost cracked as he’d watched her exit the inn and head towards the market, the sudden, intense ache of missing her forcing him to land on an awning for a moment.

“As for your second question, that is simple as well. I’m hosting a party for the patriars and some… new friends. I would very much prefer my consort to be there.” He lifted his right arm, miming being arm in arm with her, leading her through the ballroom. “A little bit of... decoration never hurts. And I want you to help me with some of the negotiations that have taken place in your absence.”

Astarion played his cards close to his chest, still unsure if he even wanted Ban to know the real reason for the party; she probably considered the issue with the Waterdeep covens resolved after her departure. She needn’t know that he had to do this to end their suspicion decisively and ensure her safety - to reassure them and also intimidate them into leaving her alone. He must keep her safe, but he must also keep hiding the best of himself from her, to avoid exposing his soft, vulnerable heart - the heart she no longer wanted - to further harm.

“I’m not your consort anymore,” she hissed, his comments having hit a nerve. “I never will be again. You understand? I don’t care about your stupid fucking plans. I’m done being your fucking set piece!”

“Ungrateful bitch,” he snapped in return, his voice rising, “I made you who you are. I made you a bride, not a spawn - as much as I regret that now. I continue to give you my powers, even as you disrespect me - your master, your creator!”

“That’s Cazador speaking.” She knew he loathed hearing his master’s name, and her voice was filled with derision.

“I am not him!” He couldn’t help it; he was now shouting. He found his heart was racing, his anger rising to the top. “Have I ever tortured you? Have I hurt you? Have I starved you, or whored you out? Don’t you dare compare me to him, you disloyal wretch!”

“Disloyal?” She laughed in disbelief. “You have not tortured me yet. Hurt me yet. If I didn’t go, you likely would have in time. And which one of us has been fucking anyone and everyone they can hire, hm? Who’s disloyal?”

“Because I miss you!”

He immediately clamped his mouth shut when those words slipped out. The truth of just how painful - how debilitating - losing her had been was something that could not come to light. It was beneath the Ascendant to be even capable of feeling that way. He’d preferred it the way it was, when she couldn’t tell which of his sweet words were truth and which were lies.

He tried to scramble up something to hide the truth in his slip of the tongue.

“I miss fucking you,” he amended. It was a poor cover, he knew, but he was desperate. “And I’m sorry, but why do you even care? Are you jealous, pet?”

“No,” she replied. It was only partially true - she knew he longed for her, but it still stung to know he’d been deep inside anyone else. “I only mentioned it because you said I was disloyal. I have been with no one else, and it’s not because of you, just so you know. I need time for myself.” Another lie.

“What about Gale, then?” he said, and there was a tinge of jealousy he couldn't quite hide.

“You already know. I couldn’t.” She looked away. “And even if I had, what’s it to you? What about your own escapades? Hypocritical to call me disloyal, don’t you think?”

“They’re just warm bodies.” He waved his hand dismissively.

It came to him then, that he sounded exactly like every patron Cazador had ever loaned him to, and it filled him with disgust. Reining in his thoughts before Ban could read them on his face, he opted to address something else entirely. He could at least be honest for this part.

“Gale… he’s always had his sights on you, and you two were close. Even before.”

With how rarely he tolerated talking about his life as a spawn, this was a touchy topic to broach.

“He was my best friend, Astarion. He did have feelings for me. Still does. But I chose you, in case you fucking forgot, just as you like to forget everything from before.” She leveled a steely glare at him. She had chosen him yet again that day in Gale's tower, despite the mess their love had become.

“I don’t forget,” he said quietly. “but I’ve chosen to move past that version of me.”

Sensing her bristling, he quickly continued.

“This isn’t what I came here for, debating my feelings regarding my past. I’m not even here to beg you to come back to me, as much as you wish it was so.” He raised an eyebrow at her, daring her to challenge his words; when she didn’t respond, he smirked.

“So easy to read, my little love. You still pine for me, don’t you?”

He let his voice drop a little, inching closer to where she was sitting at the opposite side of the bed. He couldn’t touch her with the wards up, but he could at least close the gap.

“Don’t worry. All can be forgiven. All you have to do is ask…” he purred. Astarion’s quick shift was a calculated risk; he knew she was most likely to refuse, but he couldn't help wanting to see her squirm, just a little bit.

“Say what you need to say, and be done with it. You want me at the party. Why?” Her tone was businesslike. She’d guessed there was a bit more to this party than he was letting on. After all, he’d mentioned some new friends.

The Ascendant shifted uncomfortably. The wheedling, cajoling, and goading hadn’t worked. He may have no choice here, and as loath as he was to show her the true level of his concern for her, he couldn’t let that stand in the way of her safety.

“I invited the leading coven of vampires in Waterdeep. They want to know that I have all my ducks in a row, so to speak. I intend to show them just that, and to show them who it is they’re crossing should they choose not to play nice.”

There. That didn’t sound too desperate, did it?

Ban snorted. “You invited them to threaten them? And to show them what - that you have absolute control? Over… over me?”

“It wouldn’t do to have the Ascendant so easily defied by his consort, would it? A daywalking bride, wandering willy-nilly in their city. It would concern any coven deeply, Ban,” he said, in a tone that made him sound like he was explaining something simple to a child. “It undermines my power.”

And it makes you a target, he thought. Please, don’t fight me on this.

Ban leaned back to get a better look at her estranged partner, scanning his face. She saw an odd intensity in his gaze that she knew all too well from the early days.

“Don’t-” Astarion said before she could move forward, gripping her wrist so hard she jerked backwards and almost toppled over him.

“What? Why?”

“Trap,” he murmured, nodding towards the wire hidden under the bush. She, ever the brainless fighter, had of course missed it.

“There would’ve been nothing left of you had you walked through it, darling.”

She swallowed nervously and tried to make light of the situation. “Ah. Well, no one would’ve missed me, so no loss there.”

He had stared at her then, with the same intensity she’d seen a moment ago.

With that look in mind, she made her decision.

“Fine. One night. I did promise to be cordial and to visit once in a while, I suppose,” she acquiesced.

His shoulders began to sag in relief, but he held them in place, remembering himself.

“Good. I expected nothing less from you, little love.” He stood up, pleased.

“Will you come with me to the palace today? I can have your favorite tailor brought over. We can have a dress made and fitted for the event.”

Ban sighed. Of course he wanted clothes made. “As long as you bring me back here afterwards.”

“On my honor, I promise to bring you back,” he said without protest. He was just delighted to have his plan work.

The carriage ride was silent. They sat opposite each other, and Ban had been careful not to touch him, even avoiding his hand as he’d instinctively offered it for her to hold while getting into the carriage. If it hurt him, he didn’t say so.

Ban knew the wards protecting her were easy to operate. She merely had to think of giving Astarion permission, and the wards would allow it. She could then change her mind and rescind at any time, and their defenses would reactivate. But she didn’t quite feel comfortable enough to take that risk yet, especially for something as minor as being assisted while getting in the carriage.

She looked at him, watching his face as he gazed out at the streets of Baldur’s Gate. He looked much the same, but she noticed an exhaustion there, as if he’d barely had any rest. The circles under his eyes were darker, his skin more sallow. She wondered what had caused this, considering he lived in luxury. She didn’t allow herself the idea that he was suffering because of her - he didn’t really give two shits about her. Not really.

All the same, Astarion was still ethereal, curls capturing the sunlight streaming through the window; he looked like he was carved from the finest, purest marble holding still. Beautiful crimson eyes watched the city go by but they did not move over the landscape, long fingers cradled his chin, his mind obviously far away. Ban found herself fighting the urge to lean in and cup his cheek, to tell him that everything was going to be alright.

As they approached the palace, they passed the gardens. Astarion sprung to life, gesturing outside.

“They finished the garden, Ban. See? Just the way you wanted it.” His voice was quiet, but filled with an enthusiasm that Ban did not expect.

She looked, and indeed it was. He’d had many types of roses planted in different sections of the garden. Their various hues brightened the green of the grass. There was the fountain she had conceptualized, with the statue of a seahorse spewing water at the top. She was taken aback, managing only a shy word of thanks.

He waved it off. “There’s no price too high for my beloved’s whims,” he answered automatically.

His eyes were fixed on her face, drinking in her rare look of happiness. His broken heart sang at the sight of it, and he quietly carved the image into his memory. Gods knew if he’d ever see it again.

They arrived, and he offered his hand again; and again she refused it. He knew why, but the sting of it was sharp, albeit momentary. He never thought he’d see her here again, and for now that was enough.

Astarion waved his hand and a servant appeared. He quickly rattled off instructions. A cup of her favorite tea, laced with some blood, warmed just the way she preferred. Her favorite tailor was to be summoned.

He followed her to their old room, and inside he was giddy, an emotion he hadn’t felt in so long that it felt new and intoxicating.

She sat on her old dressing table, running her hands over the filigree. She had missed her comforts here. Her writing desk where she’d write to their companions in the evenings. Their bed - the mattress a perfect softness and the sheets always immaculate, at least until they’d methodically ruined them every night. The couch, the chaise - plush and luxurious as always; she’d loved lounging on them. She also found something new - a mirror. It was small, barely full-length, and the frame was simple - she was surprised he hadn’t purchased something much larger and more ornate; this one was not nearly ostentatious enough for his usual style. She turned to Astarion, and seeing his grin, couldn't help but smile back.

For a moment, all was well. They sat in companionable silence, reveling in the cozy feeling of being in each other’s presence and the familiarity of home.

The tailor arrived, and began to run ideas by Ban. They took her measurements again just to be sure, even though they remain unchanged. Astarion stood to the side, taking in the sight of her with rapt attention. For now he could pretend she was his again - that she loved him as she had before.

Ban decided on a midnight blue fabric, to be made into a halter top gown, accentuating her muscled upper body. As the tailor finished with her, they turned to Astarion.

“I’ve brought the newest coat and shirt, my lord. The pants are not yet finished, but I thought you may wish to inspect the completed pieces today. Will you try them on?”

The Ascendant glanced at Ban, then nodded. He stripped, first taking his suit coat off. Then he began to undo the buttons of his shirt, deft fingers working slowly.

His eyes locked with hers, and he found his breathing quickening. With each button undone, more of his pale torso was exposed, the smooth planes of his pectorals slowly giving way to his muscled abdomen. She was watching him with barely concealed want, and it was all he could do not to cross the distance and capture her lips in his.

He felt his cock twitch in response to the sheer lust in her gaze.

“Like what you see, my consort?” He dared use that nickname, for now, knowing she wouldn’t mind it in front of others.

“Perhaps.” The heat in her eyes told a different story, however, and she surreptitiously crossed her legs.

He couldn’t help but get hard at that; within moments he was straining against his trousers. He was sure the tailor noticed it as they handed him the shirt, but he didn't care. He slipped his arms into it, buttoning it quickly. Next was the coat, which he pulled on with deliberate slowness, eyes fixed on her.

The suit was blood red, lined with black. Ban had told him once that red suited him best, brought out his eyes, and made his hair pop. He turned to admire himself in the mirror, seeing his cock outlined in his trousers.

”It looks perfect,” she intoned with deceptive innocence.

He had to shut his eyes for a moment, his cock now insistently pressing against the fabric, begging to be freed.

One breath. Two breaths. Calm down.

“Of course.” He twirled around with exaggerated slowness to give her a look at everything. “Any suggestions, Ban? Or is this good?”

She stood up, and to his utter surprise, moved close to him. She paused for a moment, taking in the sight of him from head to toe, lingering on his groin.

He bit back the groan that rose in his throat as her eyes locked there and she licked her lips. She noticed, smirking at him.

“Everything’s the way I like it.”

Gods. How did she keep doing this to him? He felt himself throb, and he was sure there was precum beginning to form for her. Before he embarrassed himself any further, he took off the coat and shirt, draping them over a chair, hungrily watching her wander to the other side of the room. He quickly dismissed the tailor.

As they left and the door shut, he rounded on Ban, fierce, unbridled lust burning in his features.

“You minx.” He smiled, baring his fangs, the intensity of his desire overriding any and all reason. He crossed the room with inhuman speed, bare chest heaving from excitement. He reached out, desperate to finally touch her again.

Bang.

He looked up from where he had been thrown back and to the floor, dazed. In his fervor, he’d forgotten about the wards. That realization brought a cold dose of reality, and he winced as he got up.

“I told you. You cannot touch me without my express permission, Astarion,” she reminded him, smirking coyly.

He glowered, his pride wounded. “Fine. But during the party, I may have to do so.”

Her smirk died as she realized he was right. If they were to fool the other vampires - and she had her suspicions as to what Astarion’s real motives for inviting them were - she would have to temporarily let the wards down.

She nodded, agreeing. “During the party, I’ll let you touch me.”

His posture was stiff as he crossed the room to grab his shirt, slipping it on and unceremoniously buttoning it up. He was still a little upset, glaring at her.

“You know, pet, I can see right through you,” he began, “You still want me. You still love me.”

He paused briefly before continuing, “I swear, you’ll regret leaving me. More than you’ll regret anything else you’ll ever do.”

The words were hard and cold, but that familiar intensity was there in his gaze, mixed with uncertainty. As if what he said wasn’t a threat, but something that he hoped was true.

“I can live with my regrets, Astarion. Can you?” She didn’t expect an answer, nor did she receive one.

His lips pursed, his gaze becoming more guarded. His tone was chilly when he finally spoke. “The carriage will be waiting for you outside. I trust you to know your way out of my house.” With those words, he left, slamming the doors shut.

Astarion realized he was retreating, but he had to hide before he spilled his heart out again.

Ban sighed, looking back at the palace, preparing herself to leave. After a long moment, she hopped into the carriage and let it take her back to the inn, contemplating today’s events.

He was likely hosting this ball, inviting the Waterdeep vampires for her safety. That much was obvious, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

But was he doing it out of some perverse sense of possessiveness? Because she was his creation? Some sort of twisted pride in the way he kept his treasures safe, just like he’d kept her locked up in the palace before?

Or was he doing it because he loved her?