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[vicinea]

the urge to finish all of my bg3 fics, but then i accidentally start another one nd leave it to the side, and then i

[vicinea]

jokes on you — these dumbasses called each other troglodytes approximately two (2) seconds before any of this! 👍

[vicinea]

My mom was telling me the other day that growing up, my dad hand sewed my Halloween costumes which were beautiful and so detailed, and made me hand sewn stuffed animals, and would perform “surgery” if my favorite stuffed toy needed any repairs.

And it got me thinking about my favorite headcanon: Dadstarion sewing and embroidering everything for his children

Astarion repairs and adorns his and your clothes as it is, but once he has children, he goes overboard.

He embroiders all of the baby’s linens, all their blankets are dotted with stars and moons. Tiny galaxies that will wrap the baby in love and comfort.

He works tediously on onesies, and bibs. The time consuming work eases the nerves that churn in his gut as you await the arrival of your little one. Oftentimes, you have to gently coax him to come to bed to rest. Otherwise, he will stitch through the early morning.

When the baby arrives, Astarion already has a little stuffed cat, stitched with love, and a couple of curses, to gift his little one.

Later on, the little Ancunin becomes incredibly attached to the toy made by their papa.

When their old enough to truly play and voice what they really want, Astarion puts together elaborate costumes for dress up. Beautifully crafted princess dresses or prince doublets, pretty and earthy little fairy dresses with matching glittering wings, and his personal favorite: a very goofy looking purple wizard robe. His child rather enjoyed wearing that one while mimicking uncle Gale.

And of course their regular everyday clothes, when not entirely made by their papa, are embroidered with their favorite animals or creatures. Are sprawling with beautiful gold threaded ivy and filigree. Flowers of their favorite colors dot the cuffs of their coats.

I just love the idea of Astarion putting such love and care into something he learned out of necessity, but now does it for the ones that he unconditionally loves, and who unconditionally love him back.

[vicinea]

the touch-starved rolan brain rot is fully taking over and hitting new heights today. none of this is pure. the thought of rolan nudging his beloved towards the nearest, secluded corner when he can’t take the tension of lust bubbling up from the void of his stomach, leaving the usually put-together wizard a jittery mess as his lips seek out a rushed, feverish kiss.

gods, just thinking about how he is so incredibly sloppy when he gets too into it, leaving languid kisses and nibbles on whatever part of his beloved’s flesh he can possibly reach — fingers desperately digging into their skin to ground himself. he’d push his hips against the mattress for any friction he could find to quell the roaring flames within, the thought of him being the one to bring them such pleasure overwhelming him in every sense of the word. his heartbeat thrumming through burning ears and beating against his chest when he hears the lewd noises of approval from his beloved, a huff of desperation escaping him as well when his hips stutter in their movement. the eye contact? you already know that man has to keep his eyes absolutely glued to his beloved as he dips between their thighs — that intense gaze faltering when he takes in the trail of hickeys and faint teeth marks painting their flesh — a proud grin twitching at his lips. his hands. everywhere. gods, he is so touch-starved and needy for the feeling of his beloved squirming in his grasp as they cry out in ecstasy — an aura of confidence enveloping his form as he drinks in every single noise and movement they make. that secure grip of his hands settling around his beloved’s hips or sides, fingers tensing and digging into the skin, leaving light bruises in their wake. those hands reaching out and letting his fingers intertwine with his beloved’s — earning occasional tugs and squeezes when his tongue skims over a particularly sensitive spot. in conclusion, i am so normal about him.

[vicinea]

how do y’all think rolan would confess his feelings for tav, after grappling with them for so long?

would it be an ugly, choked rush of words, blurted out in the middle of an argument? where Tav’s trying to go and be a self-sacrificial idiot again, and Rolan’s terrified at the prospect of losing them? we all know they’re a bleeding heart, gods know they’d immediately go and throw themselves into the thick of it. Tav’s trying to convince Rolan they should go help, Rolan’s trying to convince them the Watch and the Fist have it handled, and in a desperate attempt to get them to stay, it all comes out in one disgusting, angry clump of words.

“Go then! Go then, why don’t you, risk your life for coin we have enough of and people who aren’t even grateful! Go, when your powerful companions are scattered to the winds, and all you’ve got is a loose coalition of mercenaries who won’t guard your six or bring you back. Because FUCK MY FEELINGS, gods damn it all, fuck the fact you’re here and you’re safe and the fuck the life we’ve built together and FUCK THE FACT I LOVE YOU!”

[vicinea]

I LOVE it when people headcanon their Durge with weird animalistic traits.

Durges who are just creatures of impulse and instinct

Durges who growl and bare their teeth when they're angry

Durges with claws and fangs without need of a weapon to tear someone's throat out

Durges whose eyes glow in the dark

Durges with heightened senses

Durges who hiss when they're annoyed

[vicinea]

thinking about rolan, who gets all flustered and annoyed when his beloved mentions how soft he becomes when they shower him with attention and love, how he lets a smile twitch at his lips. how could he possibly, actually, be soft? no — not him, right?

rolan, who acts aloof to any affection the entire day, even though his chest burns with the yearning to hold his beloved close without any hesitation or thought, perhaps letting his tail gently wrap around their side.

rolan, who refuses to accept the fact that he is anything but stoic and rough, feeling that deep down, he doesn’t truly deserve any of that attention — even though there is a small part of him that wails for the tender moments of love.

thinking about rolan, who quietly crawls into bed beside his beloved, not a single word uttered except a few sighs escaping him once he settles on the soft mattress — eyes immediately squeezing shut.

rolan, who starts purring when his beloved run their fingers through his hair and press kisses to his face, hums rolling over his lips as they brush through the tangles of his locks and scratch at his scalp.

rolan, who finally cracks after acting like nothing bothered him the entire day, only to mutter a soft, barely audible ‘i love you’ to his beloved as his arm snakes around their form and he nuzzles into their side, keeping them from somehow slipping out of his grasp.

yeah. thinkin’ about rolan…

[vicinea]

"Evil is always possible. And goodness is eternally difficult.”

― Anne Rice, Interview with the Vampire.