#I want to share more of my Tav too to add to this

[jstar1992]

I need to see more of Gale with Tavs of color, I’m begging you fandom. Please sate my need

#I want to share more of my Tav too to add to this #but damn don’t let us of melanation starve out here

[tragedybunny]

My gosh, this is has been a fun blog to find!

If you are still taking requests for Astarion, what about him exploring non-sexual but romantic touch? It seems like he enjoys kissing, even after asserting his boundaries around sex in game so I've been wondering what he would do if Tav or Durge kissed wrist or the tip of his ears or fingers l, etc. Basically gentle, exploring love.

(G/n reader if you could!)

Hi, hi, thanks for being patient with me. I hope you like.

Soft as Starlight - Astarion x GN!Reader

Reader and Astarion share a moment of intimacy that explores what love without sex is like.

"Can I kiss you?" You ask, cuddled up to Astarion in the tent you share. 

For a second, his eyes widen, and you worry it was maybe too much, too soon. "I'd like that very much, my Love."  He seems giddy and shy about it, like the two of you have never done such a thing. 

You plant your lips on his and he returns it, arm looping around your waist to bring you closer. There's a hunger there for your touch that you can sense. Not the type of amorous passion he'd once claimed to enjoy, but the physical show of your love, the kind affection of your touch. Gently, you pull your fingers through his hair, glorying in the silken texture beneath your fingers. In response he hums happily. 

"Hmm." You hesitate voicing your next thought until he pulls back to look at you expectantly. "Can I keep going? Not like that," you add when he tenses beneath your fingers. 

"You may," he says, not yet relaxing completely. 

"Stop me if you're uncomfortable," you reassure, kissing him lightly on the tip of the nose. He nods and you kiss his forehead, leaving him immediately sighing. 

Lips find his temple, his cheek, and finally the tip of his ear. A short giggle escapes him. "Watch it," he warns playfully. 

"Ticklish, good to know," you tease, but leave it be. You can always come back to that when he's more comfortable. 

Fingers have been gently tracing their way down his back and you turn to his arm, caressing it until you come to his hand. Grasping it with both of yours, you rub it gently, and bring his wrist to your lips. Then his palm, his fingers, and the back of his hand, lavishing your love on him.

"Darling," he breathes and his other hand covers his face, lost for words. 

"Do I need to stop?" You release his hand, giving him space to make a boundary.

"No, maybe, I don’t know. I'm not used to this." 

"It's alright Astarion, I don't want you to be uncomfortable." You settle back down next to him and he takes your hand, taking a turn to squeeze it softly. 

"Can I kiss you?" He asks and your heart soars.

"Absolutely," you say instead of shouting giddily like you want. 

He surprises you by starting with your cheek, your temple, and then hesitantly grazing your neck. A hand rests gently on your waist, playing with the fabric of your shirt. He nuzzles against the spot on your neck where he kissed. "You're wonderful." 

"You're pretty wonderful yourself, Love." You loop your arms around his shoulders and shift so he's laying on your chest. "Can I keep touching you?"

Silently he nods, eyes closed, seeming lost in the moment. With the lightest touches, you rub his back, working your way to his neck and hair. Then you start your way back down. "Never stop," you hear him breathe like a prayer against your skin. 

"Never," you promise, kissing his forehead once more bringing, a soft smile to his lips. 

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fanfic #my writing #my fanfic #x reader #gn reader #astarion x gn reader

[missblissy]

Domestic Astarion x Reader HCs

A/N: UwU just wanted to add to the married life headcanons after the events of the game. Fluffy good stuff below. GN!Tav, no class/race. Enjoy!

Some days always started better than others. But that’s only to say because someone didn’t need as much sleep as you, and had a life time left to learn new skills. One of them being cooking. Sure Astarion can’t taste and it’s a useless skill to him. But you? He would do anything for you. And that includes learning to cook for the sheer simple act of spoiling you with a warm and home made breakfast in bed.

It’s strange to say you two never had a wedding. That’s not to say you two weren’t married. “Oh…?” Astarion isn’t sure how to explain this when someone asks, “Well, you see, my darling little love here found this-” He holds up his hand and wiggles the ring in his finger, “On a rotting old skeleton then found the matching one, get this, on another smelly corpse!” Most people wouldn’t look fondly on something like that. But no, Astarion wasn’t most people. He’d smile and swoon, “And I suppose since then we’ve been married,”

It doesn’t help that back then when you did find those rings, you quite literally told him, “We’re married now,” As a joke. It wasn’t joke….

Astarion has a habit of leaving you poems to find in the most hidden of places. Like little lost treasures. Or maybe he just knows the looting demon you are at heart with your little grabby fingers going for anything they can touch. So it always comes to a surprise to you when you open a book and a poem written years ago flutters out… but the love and truth still rings pure despite the yellowing of the pages.

Crimson sons, vermillion daughters. Quivering maroon, burgundy, cardinal. Short fainting strokes Fester a broken carotid Free from feathers Unbound By the serpent's head no more.

His way of saying thank you for everything you've ever given him. And then some. No matter the message you cherished each treasured poem you would find.

The man had a knack for spoiling you, unconditionally, and most importantly, endlessly. If you saw something out in a shop that caught you eye, but you were just to stubborn to get it for yourself. Surprise, surprise when you get home and find it there with a man beaming proud like a puppy with his bone.

But that didn’t mean affection was off the table either. Astarion spoiled you with kisses, big ones, little ones, some on the back of your hand as he opened a door for you. Others on your cheek, gently but with sorrow as he left for some few weeks for whatever reason. He had his own things to do and sometimes you couldn’t go with him. But that just meant when he got home you could throw your arms around him, breathe him in and share the long awaited kiss of his return.

Married life strangely suited you both, from the little grabbing of hands under tables, the protective placement of an arm, the look of pride when the other did something extraordinary. And Astarion would always be the more boastful in pride when it came to talking about you.

And he couldn’t help but show off, sure he’s loud and arrogant about it. Saying he was best option of course, no one else stood a chance… blah blah blah. But when no one was around he can look you in the eye and practically grovel, “I am so lucky you chose me,”

There were many other things that came with the long life of being married together. The two of you were quite dedicated to learning to… dance. Astarion hadn’t a clue wether his left foot was right, and you may have been no better. It was your idea really. You heart would swoon watching other couples and with an eager voice you pointed a finger and declared, “I want to do that too!”

And so you did, but behind the close doors of your own home. Seeing as Astarion didn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of so many people. Where you both could trip and side step and laugh, giggle and make the most out of learning something new together.

It seemed the two of you had a habit of learning things together. From silly little drawings, to paintings, perhaps an instrument or two. You both always found a way to share your hobbies and passions together.

And it was the mornings, where these happened most often. Naturally Astarion couldn’t be in the sun but that didn’t stop him from enjoying what little light he could. You’d find him in the dusty dusk right before the sun actually broke the horizon.

He had been teaching himself to play the piano, so to wake up in the morning and not hear the soft echos of keys down the halls would be a bad sign. It’d be another bad sign if you didn’t sit down beside him, stroking the keys as the two of you played a song that was always in the process of being made and never done.

Surely soon he’d go off to sleep, sharing kisses and affection. You wouldn’t see him again until the evening, when the sun was starting it decent. Day-phobia was real in vampires no matter how much they loved the sun and he didn’t have a worm anymore to help him fight that. But he managed, enjoying every sun rise and sun set he got to see just as the world of night came and went.

Despite staying up all night sometimes just to be beside him, it was fairly often that Astarion would have to nag you to go to sleep. You’d barely have even one eye open, drifting back and forth between dreams and you’d still tell him, “I’m not tired, I’m just resting my eyes,” All because he was up late in kitchen and you didn’t want to leave his side.

He often compromises though, making deals and barters, “If I go upstairs with you, will you go to sleep?”

“…” Surely you aren’t going to say no? “Will you be the big spoon?”

“Of course,” How could he say no to a face like yours? And such a sleepy one too?

He didn’t mind, not really. Some nights he’d stay in bed with you until the morning. Even though nothing would get done, or things he had planned were set aside, he wouldn’t sleep either, he truly really didn’t mind. He could lay there for eternity holding you close and be at peace.

#x reader #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion hc #astarion headcanons #short headcanons #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #astarion acunin #blissy writes #fluff #the good fluff #the queue tag!!

[justporo]

Hey you :D

Here’s a request just to add your huge list for after vacation muahaha 💖

How do you think a slow, bickering romance with Astarion (kinda like Howl and Sophie) would go down.

Hey darling ❤️ You might’ve forgotten about this ask but I have not! I'm combining this with another one asking about where Astarion rejected Tav at first but then slowly fell for them.

Also haven't done one of this headcanon posts for a whole haven't we? Here we go:

Headcanons about Astarion slowly but surely falling in love with you (and how he pursues you)

Oh, it's all just a game for him, isn't it? At least at first. But this silly little jester didn't realise he was playing himself.

He might have rejected you at first (because he's a prick who has looked at the sun a little too long, let's be honest) but he quickly realises he can't take his mind off of you

You keep stirring the vampire's undead little heart and it scares him at first - and of course you had given up on it after that first hurtful rejection

But his crimson eyes start to never stray far from you, no matter if in battle or at camp: he can't tear his gaze from you - gods dammit, you're lovely!

It's in the way you always put others first, always have a kind word to spare, always a warm smile. How you laugh and how brave you are, how you bite your lip when you're lost deep in thought.

Quite frankly: a stake to his heart couldn't have been more effective.

But he realises another thing: he wants to be real with you, he wants to fall slowly with you - not a vicious thunderstorm but a soft, warm summer rain

And so Astarion begins to yearn in silence as you too can't keep your thoughts from turning around him often

It's painfully obvious to everyone around you how much the two of you are in love with each other; so much so that bets are being made in camp if you're gonna make it before you all reach the Gate

You notice that Astarion keeps sneaking around you like an adoring cat would: always a playful quip on the tip of his sharp tongue that you never take serious because... this Astarion we're talking about. "Oh my heart, aren't you even more blinding than the sun today" "Look who's blessing us with their grace and insight." "A copper for the thoughts in your pretty little head, darling."

Astarion doesn't know how to live the teasing out of his tone, maybe out of fear you might actually start taking him seriously; but if you would peel back the generous layer of faked sarcasm you'd find he's actually being serious

This man is downright smitten by you and you don't realise it as he achingly yearns for you - so much the others can barely take it

Sometimes you find little gifts on your pillow when you wake up: a sweet treat, snuck away from the others, a single blossom, a mysterious line of poetry - you are at a loss at where this comes from or if someone is playing with you

Meanwhile Astarion swallows his pride to regularly go to Wyll and ask his advice who... does help him but not without a haughty grin whenever he sees the lovesick vampire stroll over in his seemingly hopeless endeavour

Meanwhile you keep doing your utmost best to be at Astarion's side because you truly only want to help him and be happy and safe

Again: have mercy with the poor tortured soul, sometimes Astarion almost feels like he could combust on the spot if you give him one of your adorable lopsided smiles

When Moonrise and unpleasant people happen something in Astarion breaks, it all bursts out of him at once, overpowering even his terrible fear of rejection

The hug and tender first kiss you share that night tears both if your walls down.

You have not defeated the big bad enemy but something in your heart lightens knowing you have someone who will travel the road to whatever end with you

From there on out the two of you become even more unbearable in your pining for each other - meanwhile not trivial amounts of gold are passed between the other companions with quite some grumbling - but be assured: all of your friends are rooting for the two of you.

There we go, I love idiots in love with each other, hope you enjoyed!

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #fanfiction #astarion x tav #bg3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate #astarion x you #poro headcanons #bg3 companions #astarion x reader

[mimsynims]

Fool For Love

part 3

~~~

part 1, part 2

~~~

Author’s Note: First of all, thank you for the lovely comments! 🥰 Second, I’m writing this as I go, so while I’ll try to post every other day, it might come a point when I’m not done on time. Just so you know if it suddenly takes longer for the next part to be posted.

~~~

Astarion x reader/Tav

Tags: (mild?) angst, pining, pining while fucking, jealousy, eventual happy ending

Summary: You thought you knew what you were doing when you let Astarion into your bed. He doesn’t have feelings for you, and vice versa. Only… now you do. And you’re not handling it very well.

~~~

It’s almost sundown when you and the others are back at the camp again. It’s been a good day, all in all. You were able to stock up on potions and scrolls, and Karlach sweet-talked her way into a good deal on a handaxe. Not that you were there to watch it happen — Halsin’s favour had you talking to both the new leader of the Druids, Francesca, and Rath, the latter engaging you in a longer conversation than originally planned. Not that you minded, Rath is a good conversationalist. And quite handsome.

Yes, you did notice, but you kept it polite, not at all in the mood for flirting. Not when your thoughts continuously drifted back to a certain vampire that declined tagging along at the last minute.

It’s embarrassing to admit, but your eyes roam Halsin’s tent when you search him out to relay the information you gathered today. It’s probably a coincidence that Astarion decided to remain, but you can’t help but look for signs of someone sharing Halsin’s bed.

If Halsin sees you snooping, he doesn’t confront you about it, and you feel silly when you leave him to find the others. Who he sleeps with is none of your business, and you tell yourself that this is enough. Either you get over yourself, or you let Astarion go.

Which is easier said than done.

“Hey Karlach, let me see that axe of yours.” The rest of your party is gathered around the fire, preparing tonight’s meal. “From what I hear, I should bring you every time I need to haggle down the price for something.”

“Look at this beauty!” Karlach happily shows you her new weapon. “I’m going to polish it tomorrow, really bring out the shine it deserves.”

“How come you weren’t there, Tav?” Astarion sounds nonchalant, like he couldn’t care less but decides to ask anyway.

“I believe Tav had more important things to do.” Trust Lae’zel to come to your rescue.

“Halsin wanted some updates from the Grove,” you add.

“Mhmm, but surely that’s not the only reason why you talked for so long with Rath, Tav?” Shadowheart teases. “It seemed like you two really hit it off.”

“Yeah, he’s cute, Tav. Go for it!”

You want to look at Astarion, but you force yourself to turn your attention to Karlach instead, making sure to sound as casual as possible. “He’s nice, but…” You already have someone. “Perhaps you should go for him, Karlach, if you find him cute?”

“Nah, I have my eyes on someone else.”

It’s adorable, the way she lights up, and you wish you could hug her. “Hmmm, might this be a blacksmith we all know?”

“Tav!”

“This is secret to none, Karlach,” Lae’zel says. “Even a blind fool couldn’t help but notice the way you swooned when he helped you in the Grove.”

“I didn’t swoon!”

“There was definitely some swooning happening,” Shadowheart chimes in. “We all saw it.”

“Aaaanyway…! This was about Tav, not me.”

Dammit. You should’ve left for your tent when you had the chance. “No, no, I think we should talk more about you and Dammon.”

“Come on, Tav.”

“Yes, Tav, tell us all about your conversation with Rath.”

For a moment you somehow forgot that Astarion is there, too. “There’s nothing to tell. He’s just nice and easy to talk to.”

“Hmm, you’re not very convincing, Tav.”

With a groan, you turn to the wizard. “Not you too, Gale.” For someone so hung up on his ex, he sure looks jealous over the fact that you might be interested in someone else. “I know you all probably only mean well, but if you don’t drop this right now…”

You expect either Astarion or Lae’zel to make some kind of comment, but none of your companions say a peep. There’s an awkward silence for a few tension-filled moments and you wonder if you sounded too harsh. They only want your best, after all.

Thankfully, Shadowheart steps in, clearing her throat. “I think our food is ready.”

Once you sit down to eat, you watch them all as they talk and laugh. It feels like usual again, and you’re reminded how lucky you are to have come across such amazing people in this extraordinary situation life put you in.

Your gaze rests a little bit longer on your lover. He’s always beautiful, but it’s entrancing the way the flickering flames seem to caress his cheekbones, the arch of his nose. His smile. He’s laughing at something Lae’zel just said, and going by the look on her face, it wasn’t meant to be funny.

It’s quite the motley crew you’re leading — and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

You freeze when you suddenly find yourself locking eyes with Astarion. He isn’t supposed to catch you staring, and you quickly look away even though you know it’s too late. You wait a few minutes, and when you glance in his direction again, he’s talking to Gale.

Why must it be so difficult? Are you making it more difficult than it needs to be? You want to be with him and only him, so why not just ask it of him? If he says no, you’ll at least know instead of always wondering. And if he says yes, maybe he’ll grow to love you back.

Once again, you wish you had someone to talk to — and after today you think you can confide in Karlach — but it feels good to have come to a decision. Hopefully you can get him alone after dinner, because you would prefer to have it done before the stargazing Gale has planned.

You allow yourself to imagine the two of you lying next to each other in the grass, holding hands, smiling. Or his arm around you, holding you near.

You refuse to think about the other option, even though it’s the far more likely outcome.

For now, you’re going to pretend that everything’s going to be alright.

#bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion #bg3 tav #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #fic wip #bg3 spoilers

[randoimago]

I’ve had this idea floating around in my head for a bit, but what about a githyanki tav attempting to woo some of the companions with normal non-githyanki tactics they totally didn’t learn from a cheesy romance novel they found?

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Character(s): Gale, Lae'zel, Shadowheart, Wyll

Note(s): I love this idea so much (need more githyanki love tbh). Decided to add Lae'zel because I just find it very funny to imagine her reaction and how often she'd roll her eyes.

Gale

Was reading his own books when you approach and begin your attempt with reciting some cheesy line. Gale can't help but cut in and help you by correcting your pronunciation. He asks you to keep going though, you're doing great.

As smart as he is, it takes him a little bit to realize that you were flirting with him. When Gale does piece it together, he recites his own line from some book he read. The metaphor probably doesn't completely translate to you and he has to explain it a little, but his words are sweet even if the reaction is delayed.

Gale will compile a list of romance books where you both can read from and pick out very romantic lines in. And he can explain some of it to you as well to help you learn more too. He views teaching you and sharing knowledge as the most romantic of dates.

Lae'zel

She is unbelievably unamused when you approach her and start talking like one of the noms on this land (you try to correct her that it's "Gnome" but she doesn't listen).

You tried to explain that you found a book and thought it'd be helpful to learn the mating rituals of the people on of this land and she thought you hit your head. Will not stand for any of the name calling you do. It is insulting to be called "pretty like a rose" when she should be as strong as a dragon.

If you wish to really inspire her for a night of passion then she'll show you how to actually accomplish that. Her determination to take charge and show you how it's done isn't quite what you had in mind, but it worked.

Shadowheart

She's very wary when you approach her. And then you start spewing some poetry? Shadowheart is confused and doesn't know if this is some kind of manipulation tactic you have or what. But then she sees your own confusion over some of the lines and now she's a bit amused.

Each time you approach, she's crossing her arms and listening to you very obviously recite lines you rehearsed. She'll wait until the end and comment that she never heard of a gith enjoying poetry. When you bluntly tell her you read from a book in hopes of wooing her, well that completely surprises her. And she feels a bit bad at being so on guard at first when you were trying to flirt.

Shadowheart will tell you that poetry isn't always the way to her heart, some compliments would be nice. But really, if you want to romance her than join her for some alcohol instead and your lips can be used in other ways than speaking.

Wyll

Wyll is definitely a hopeless romantic and to see you come up to him and begin saying some rather cheesy lines, well he can't deny how flustered it starts to make him. A soft smile is on his face as he listens to you attempting to flirt.

Finds it so adorable that you do have a bit of confusion on your face as you recite some lines. Probably because you don't quite understand the meaning due to the cultural difference, but he stays quiet and lets you continue without correcting.

There's a good chance that Wyll has already read the cheesy romance that you stole the lines from. He can't help but bring it up and ask. When he hears your confirmation, it makes him happy and he recommends other cheesy romances that you could read together and he can explain the meanings to some of the flowery language (as well as use his own cheesy lines as well).

Taglists: @reo-the-leo @unhelpfulnpc

#bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 x reader #wyll ravengard x reader #wyll x reader #bg3 wyll x reader #gale dekarios x reader #gale x reader #bg3 gale x reader #shadowheart x reader #bg3 shadowheart x reader #lae'zel x reader #bg3 lae'zel x reader

[infiniteanalemma]

Nobility in Baldur's Gate

Edited to add: I never expected my silly, niche post to get as much attention as it has! I'm giving you all forehead smooches! 😚💋 I've gone through to clean up some things up as I've found new information. I also added a list of nobility that I've found in game and other sources to the end of the post. Thanks, y'all! I'm glad I'm not the only one to wonder about this stuff. Good stuff in the reblogs, too!

Baldur's Gate has dug itself deep in my brain, so I apologize to my poor mutuals who didn't follow me for BG3 content getting this onslaught of posts. Please bear with me until my hyperfixation wears off. 🙏

Now, I'll admit up front that I'm no expert in DnD lore*, so if I get things wrong, please feel free to correct me or just add in stuff I may have missed. I'm going off of what I've found in-game and my Google Fu skills.

That said, I do know enough about DnD to remember that Baldur's Gate nobility are called patriars, and that there are only a relative handful of actual patriar families. I was thinking about my "canon" Tav, Velassa, and her background in BG3. She's a modified OC that I plunked in-game during Early Access, so I made her a noble. It was just part of her existing character that I didn't think too deeply about. It was only after I starting playing that it occurred to me to wonder what exactly "a noble" is to a native Baldurian.

That got me digging a little more into the current state of the Baldurian nobility as of BG3. I don't know who--if anyone--needs or wants this, but I put this together for myself and decided to share it for anyone else who might be interested. I realize that this is probably pretty niche and it's rambly and long af, so I'll put it under a cut.

So, for starters, here's a list of all the patriar families, including "fallen" houses that are barely hanging on: Belt, Bormul, Caldwell, Dlusker, Durinbold, Eltan, Eomane, Exeltis, Gist, Guthmere, Hhune, Hlath, Hullhollyn, Irlentree, Jannath, Jhasso, Linnacker, Miyar, Nurthammas, Oathoon, Oberon, Portyr, Provoss, Ravenshade, Rillyn, Sashenstar, Shattershield, Silvershield, Tillerturn, Vammas, Vannath, Vanthampur, and Whitburn

From what I've gathered, Exeltis, Provoss and Ravenshade are all more-or-less destitute. Also, the Szarr family (Cazador's family) were patriars, but were believed to be entirely wiped out. No living descendants makes them a dead house, rather literally. 😏 (No, I'm not sorry.)

Now, we learn that Wyll's father is Ulder Ravengard, the Grand Duke. This brings us to the first point: There are four Dukes, known as the Council of Four, and the Grand Duke's job is to be the tie-breaker.

Traditionally, one of the Dukes is also the highest ranked officer of the Flaming Fist--that's Ravengard, who was a Fist promoted up through the ranks. Wyll tells us that his father was born lower class, and quite a few of the patriars seem to scorn him for that. The other Dukes are Belynne Stelmane, Dillard Portyr (more on him later) and Thalamra Vanthampur (more on her later, too). Of the four, two are patriars: Portyr and Vanthampur. We don't know much about Stelmane's past, except that she was a brilliant businesswoman, politician and--as we find out later--member of the Knights of the Shield. Apparently, you can't buy your way into the patriars, but maybe you can buy your way into being a Duke.

Skipping ahead a bit, when the player shows up to Gortash's coronation, there are a group of mostly patriars sitting in the boxes leading up to the front of the room. I'm listing them by seating arrangement, with box 1 and 2 being the left and right closest to Gortash, and 3 and 4 being farthest. (I don't know what, if anything, the seating arrangements imply. The second box has eight people, compared to four for all the rest.)

Lady Ailis Belt, Baron Callem Bormul, Lord Rugger Shattershield**, and Lady Alia Durinbold**

Lady Ruth Linnacker, Lord Sarken Eomane, Lady Freida Oberon, Lord Raylen Jannath, Lord Myer Ravenshade**, Lady Madeline Whitburn, Lady Beatrice Provoss, and Duke Dillard Portyr

Lady Winstra Hullhollyn, Admiral Peil Hullhollyn, Lord Randolph Vammas, and Lady Eshvelt Guthmere

Lord Milon Tillerturn, Lady Silifrey Sashenstar, Lord Petric Amber**, and Lady Haeril Birch**

Here's some pictures of the nobles sitting together. (Sorry for the terrible quality! I slapped it together for my own reference. 🙈)

The characters marked by ** aren't human, which is interesting because the information I found said all the patriar familes are human except the Shattershields. Myer Ravenshade is listed as human if you examine him, but he has a dwarf model. That might be a mistake, but I'm including him anyway. Alia Durinbold, from a presumably human patriar family, is a wood elf. Again, this could be a mistake, but unless Larian winds up changing it, it could mean that interracial marriages that once may have been looked down on are now becoming more acceptable. Petric Amber is also a wood elf, and Haeril Birch is a high elf.

Those last two are interesting because they are the only ones in the boxes who aren't patriars. If not for them, I'd have assumed the coronation was simply a demonstration for the patriars alone. Their inclusion means this is something else.

Digging around, my conclusion is that all the listed people are members of the Parliament of Peers--a 50 person advisory party to the Council of Four. However, what I found says that it's pretty rare for all 50 to attend meetings, and the usual group is between 20-30. There are exactly 20 named individuals listed, plus a group of unnamed "patriars" standing at the front.

Here they are, for what it's worth:

One thing I noticed here is that most of those listed here are Lord/Lady, but there are three other titles: Duke, Baron and Admiral. I've already talked about the Dukes. Looking into the patriars, the Hullhollyn family are notable for having a fleet of ships, so it makes sense that one of them would be an Admiral. That leaves the Baron.

I couldn't find anything about what it means to be a baron in Baldur's Gate. Going on real-world peerages, a baron/ess is generally the lowest "rank" of nobility. Basically, it's someone who was an official landowner (usually of an "important" bit of land) under the feudal system. Well and good, I suppose, but presumably all the Lords and Ladies of the patriars own land within the city. This particular Baron is also a patriar, but given that one doesn't need to be a patriar to become a Duke (normally a higher peer than a baron), that may not mean anything.

(Apparently, the term "Duke" was originally meant somewhat jokingly. That said, it still carries the weight of a title even if not the conventional one.) We don't see any other titles between Duke and Baron, so what does that mean?

This isn't canon, but my assumption is that it means the Baron owns important land outside of the city. This would make sense for Baron Bormul, given that the Bormul family apparently have investments in silver mines and vineyards. Assuming they own the mines/vineyards, that may make those lands "important" enough to the city for their owner to earn a title. Alternately, the Bormul family also has counterparts in Amn, so maybe baron is an Amnian title that got passed along. That's getting a bit far afield for me, though. 🤷‍♀️

Anyway, among the group at the coronation, pretty much everyone supports Gortash becoming Archduke, with the exception of Lady Sashenstar (an old woman who really isn't too impressed with this commoner) and Duke Portyr, who expresses some hesitation at the whole thing.

Duke Portyr is interesting here. Except for Ravengard (who is thralled and conducting the ceremony), Portyr is the only Duke present. Now, Stelmane is already dead, so that explains her absence. Vanthampur is also missing, which is interesting. Portyr first, though: he was Grand Duke before Ravengard. He's the one who re-instituted (Edited: and originally created!) the Parliament of Peers to make the day-to-day decisions of running the city, and ceded the title of Grand Duke to Ravengard. He's described as being conflict-averse, so it makes sense that he'd go along with Gortash's coronation, even though he's clearly unhappy about it. Also, the current leader of the Fists is also a Portyr, likely still Liara Portyr, the Duke's niece and Ravengard's second-in-command.

Thalamra Vanthampur is an interesting character, too. She's the head of the Vanthampur family, and part of the Descent into Avernus story. Apparently, she's the one who got Ravengard to go to Elturel before it sank to the Hells, intending to take his place as Grand Duke. From what I read, she also conspired with the Dead Three's cults to murder people in a bid to discredit the Flaming Fist. (The murdery bits were undoubtedly left to Bhaal's cult.) We never do find out anything about Thalamra Vanthampur in this game (I assume that's probably cut content). (Edited: She is mentioned in one of the in-game texts as having been killed, which was one of the possible outcomes of Descent into Avernus. Larian chose that as their canon, just like the fate of Elturel and Zariel.)

The only Vanthampur we do meet is Carnelia Vanthampur, who is in the Guildhall and describes herself as "a peer of the Parliament". She's willing to work with either the Guild or the Zhentarim. Nervously of course. Also interesting is that, on the Bloodstained Parchment hit list, is a Varri Vanthampur, whose gravestone you can find in Candulhallow's Tombstones shop, reading: "Varri Vanthampur. Unwanted in life, welcomed in death."

Interesting, hm?

Also on that hit list is Fridrik Hhune. The Hhunes apparently have links to the Knights of the Shield, from what I looked up--the same group the Emperor led with Stelmane. The only Hhunes we meet in-game are Blaise and Gheris Hhune, two of the werewolves in Cazador's ballroom who are brothers according to the dev notes. With them is another werewolf of a different patriar family, Duver Rillyn. This suggests Cazador has been going after members of patriar families, which sort of fits with what we know about his plans. We really don't find anything else out about them except that they consider Cazador to be their master and Astarion says they're new.

We also can talk to a Flaming Fist who mentions that Hurlbut Hhune is the father of Henrietta Hhune, who used to be secretly engaged to the Fist in question, only for her father to decide to arrange her to marry fellow patriar Derque Rillyn, who the Fist describes as "a major arsehole."

That conversation is interesting for a few reasons. For one, it tells you that arranged marriages within the patriar are a thing. Also, this Fist is a Manip (essentially a Sergeant) who can't ask the other Fists for help because "the Fists don't mess with wealthy patriars, they've got the Watch to back them up." That's aligned with what Devella can also tell you: "There are patriars on the murder target list. I'm oathbound to secure them first, so I'll be heading to the Upper City next." If you say that the Fist should protect everyone: "Not from around here, are you? We're in Baldur's Gate - this is just how things work."

This brings me back to my original issue: what is a Baldurian noble? The patriars are canonically nobles, of course, and they're undoubtedly seen as the "most important" of the nobility. From there, it's not much of a stretch to say that anyone who has earned the title of Duke is now a noble, even if they aren't patriars. I'd go so far as to say anyone on the Parliament of Peers (and their family by association) is a noble^, given that non-patriars Petric Amber and Haeril Birch are considered Lord and Lady. The information I found about that is that there are approximately twelve non-patriar members. If Amber and Birch are two of them, that leaves another unnamed 10.

^Edited: Looking at the dates, I realized that the Parliament of Peers is a very recent change to Baldurian governance. Duke Portyr originally created it after the three other Dukes on the Council of Four were assassinated. It was clearly meant as a temporary measure, but my guess is that the patriars liked having more official say. Not to mention the non-patriars who managed to get a seat. This has all happened within even the youngest of Tav/Urges' lifetimes.

Personally, I'd also assume that branch families of the patriars probably also count as nobility. By branch family, I mean those that marry out of the main line but whose ancestry stems from a patriar family. From what I've seen by naming conventions, Baldur's Gate seems to use patronmyic lineage--ancestry is generally passed to the sons, and wives take their husband's surname. So, if a daughter marries out of the family, she'd no longer be a part of her father's family lineage, but still would be considered nobility. These branch families likely still maintain powerful influence and connections from marrying into wealth, which would make them a good political/financial choice of marriage alliance, despite no longer having the main branch patriar family name. These families are also probably the ones most likely to find a place on the Parliament, too, but likely have to jockey for position if their "representative" dies (or otherwise leaves) and a new opening in the Parliament is created.

If you've read this far, as a treat you can have some crappy close-up portraits of the nobles at Gortash's coronation, grouped together in their respective boxes. 😚

* For what it's worth, I'd count myself as a casual DnD player. I have some knowledge of DnD--I've played BG1 and 2, Planescape: Torment, along with some general cultural osmosis. I've had friends who played the tabletop version, but for one reason or another, I've never played it myself.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 meta #fandom stuff #patriars #baldur's gate nobility #bg3 noble background #do I know what I'm talking about? no ❤ #but I tried

[fangsandfracturedhearts]

Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Chapter 11: 'Till Death Do Us Part

Summary: You helped Astarion complete the Rite of Profane Ascension and become the Vampire Ascendant. You agreed to become his spawn soon after. Once the Netherbrain was defeated, Astarion claimed the Szarr Palace, renaming it the Crimson Palace, for himself and set about his plans of domination.

Word Count: 6.1k

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn

Warnings: [Will try to continue to add more, but in general expect explicit content for mature audiences]

Possible spoilers. Eventual Explicit Content. Slow Burn. Thoughts of Suicide. Violence. Blood. Injury. Mature Content. Self-Harm. Mentions of in-game content. Completely fabricated camp events.

If you notice a very critical tag missing, please don't hesitate to let me know

Rating: Explicit 18+ - [Meant For Mature Audience}

“I want… more,” Astarion concludes, confident and sure. “I want to be us again.”

Us. I do like the sound of that.

“I don’t know, Astarion…” You pull your knees to your chest. You want nothing more than to be his as you should have been this entire time, but what does more even mean to him?

“Why? What’s stopping us?” His expression is closed and hardened. His intonation is steady but otherwise void of emotion, “You love me, yes?”

You sigh, drop your head to your knees and try to dispose of the urge to cry. You’re scared that if you deny him while you’re here, and it upsets him…. Well, that spells the end for you. There is nowhere to hide from the sun here except perhaps the bottom of the lake. You stare blankly at the serene rayless deep and miss the consoling palliation of nothingness, hushed as the grave.

“Yes, I love you.” Your eyes don’t leave the water, reflecting the glimmer of the sky like a mirror, unable to look into his eyes for fear of losing your rational thought and jumping into his arms. “That’s not the problem.”

“Tell me the problem, and I will remedy it.” Astarion appeals insistently. His fingers brush down your arm as softly as a summer evening breeze. “Whatever you desire, I will make it yours.”

Good Gods, you need to breathe. Your chest is tight. It expands with a whistle as you inhale a sizeable breath, defying the rigour that has set into your lungs. The sun heats your skin, as pale as a pearl, yet your body trembles as if cold. You’re on the verge of falling to pieces, but you cannot allow yourself such weakness. You must be as emotionless as a stone and twice as hard.

You meet his gaze and reach out to the connection you share with him. You cannot read his emotions. He is too poised and practiced, but you can feel them if only he will allow it.

Astarion’s eyes widen slightly at the request, “No,” he shakes his head. “Not right now.”

“Why is that?” You cock your head at him with a frown, “What are you hiding?”

“No, darling. It is for you that I will not do this here. I can hear your thoughts, remember? Last time you called me the devil,” he chuckles with a smug smirk. “That would hardly upset me, but if you do think something untoward, I do not want to be stuck out in the middle of nowhere with no place to hide should you need to. Just tell me what is troubling you.”

It sounds like a very convenient excuse for him to keep things from me.

“Can we not just wait and have this conversation at the manor then? Will you open the bond there?”

Astarion sighs, combing fingers through his damp hair, “Yes, I suppose we could. Is it because of my- “

“No, it has nothing to do with your condition.” You cut him off, “It’s... I will be plain. I have accepted that you cannot love me, but that is what I desire. I will not be your dutiful consort, Astarion. I want something real.”

“What you’re looking to hear,” he glances away, almost sheepish. It would be winsome and nostalgic, this glimpse of his past self, if you were not worried that it’s a clever ruse, a tactical manipulation to appease your doubts. “I have said it before, you know.”

“And therein lies the problem,” you wince at the memory - “I love you. That’s what you want to hear. Isn’t it? That’s what you’ve been waiting for.” You brush your expression with bedrock, “You say it because you think it’s what I want to hear.”

“No,” he protests with a twisted mouth. “I meant every word.”

“Then say it, Astarion,” you urge, praying he will. Gods, it’s what you’ve longed to hear. There’s a desolate part of you that would savour it, even if it is just a beautiful lie, and you hate yourself for being so broken, “Open the bond and say it.”

“I…I-” he trails off with a rasp and grimaces. His lips smack together, but no sound emerges from his mouth. It’s as if the words are lodged in this throat. He shakes his head with a low, pained groan. “Perhaps you are right. This is a conversation better had at home.”

He won’t say it.

Pieces fall from your heart like petals off a dead flower.

The sun is dipping below the horizon as the mare moves under you in a fluid canter with Astarion’s black gelding leading. Your hips roll steadily with the pace, and you barely perceive when Astarion pushes his gelding into a gallop. Your mind spins with questions, concerns, doubts and desires you dare not act on. His words still ricochet around your mind as quickly as the booming of the horses’ hoofs pounding the earth.

“I want to be us again.”

“I have said it before.”

“I meant every word.”

A tear rolls down your cheek as you watch him from behind. Nothing is more torturous than having everything you want laid at your feet, only to force yourself to walk away. You wipe the tear off your cheek and push away the others welled in your eyes, fluttering on your lashes like dew on blades of grass.

Astarion reels his gelding around on its haunches, shifts into mist and crashes into you abruptly, throwing you out of the saddle and to the ground harshly on your stomach. The horses scatter with bucks and rears, squealing and frightened. You try to push yourself up to your feet, but Astarion presses his chest down hard on your back, sinking you into the tall grass.

Reacting instinctively, you rival his dominance as dread mauls you, “Astari-“

“Shut up,” his hand covers your mouth, muffling you.

You crane your neck, trying to get a view of his eyes. If he’s gone, that’s a surefire way to tell. Astarion studies the trees around you with an acute glare. His heart thuds so hard in his chest that you can feel it against your spine. He looks like a hunter stalking its prey, but otherwise, his eyes are the vivid crimson of his and not the matte frost you expected.

He looks down, removes his hand from your mouth and leans low, bringing his lips beside your ear, “When I give the order, you run back to the manor. You do not stop for anything or anyone. Do I make myself clear?”

“I don’t understand,” you keep your voice as low as his. “What’s wrong?”

“Do as I ask, and do not challenge me on this,” he commands assertively.

His expression is grim and severe as he brandishes his blade, snapping his wrist and twirling the hilt into his grip. Something is wrong, and you follow his glare to the trees, trying to figure out what danger he’s detected looming in the shadows.

Astarion leaps to his feet and hauls you up with him by the back of your shirt so fast you’re dizzy by the time he pushes you and commands, “Run!”

You hesitate. Does he really expect you to leave him here when there’s a threat nearby? Is he out of his mind? Has he forgotten who you are and the power you possess?

“No,” you shake your head, gripping the Weave. “Whatever is coming, we can fight it together like we always did!”

“I said RUN!” Astarion shouts gruffly.

“I’m not leaving you here!”

Astarion sighs, “You leave me no choice. I’m sorry.”

Suddenly, you feel that presence in your head, but not in the way as if he were opening the bond. No, this time, it takes your control, wicking it out of your muscles, tendons, and bones and bequeathing it to him. Your eyes widen as all your muscles go stiff and await the incoming command.

Compulsion.

Hells, you can barely blink without his godsdamned permission. You’re trying to shake your head, to speak, to fucking scream, to get him to stop, but your body pays no heed to your instructions. The only command that matters is his, and you await it like an obedient hound.

Astarion speaks precise commands, “Run to the manor as fast as you can and stay there until I return. You will stop for no one and nothing.”

“Run to the manor as fast as I can and stay there,” the words are pulled out of your lungs without your consent. “I will stop for no one and nothing.”

Your body pivots without your approval, and you break into a full sprint, streaking through the forest like a meteor. You hurtle over fallen trees and boulders while ducking under long-limbed branches and zigzagging between trees at a break-neck pace you can’t control. Your mind chants your command in a hypnotic chorus.

Run. Run. Run. Run.

The repeating instruction is nearly all you can focus on. It drowns all other thoughts out. There’s a quiver outside that melody, the beating drum of footsteps and heartbeats. You can’t turn your head. You do not have the authority to do so, but your eyes scan your surroundings. Catching movement between the trees, you finally comprehend what’s going on.

The Gur.

It’s hard for you to focus on anything besides your mad dash, but you vaguely make out that they are stalking in the forest all around you. You strain to focus on the sounds outside of the tittering in your head, and you finally hear the sound of howling, enraged warriors and clashing steel.

No. No. Why did he send me away? I can fight!

Good Gods. It’s hard to think. Hands catch you, stopping you in your tracks, but your body is not yours. You’ve been told to run and stop for nothing, and it’s agonizing to disobey, like a million sharp nails being hammered into every atom of your being, making you cry out. You would do anything, fucking anything, to make this suffering end.

You cast Thunderwave, throwing anyone in the vicinity backward and then Fireball in quick succession almost unconsciously. You can barely focus on anything but the order to run and the pain of not doing so. You whirl to continue running, but another hunter grabs you, snarling with yellow teeth and spittle flying from his lips.

By the Gods, it hurts. You can’t think through the white-hot pain.

Clawed, furry paws grab the hunter from behind before a snout full of razor-tipped, serrated fangs sink into the Gur’s throat and rip it out. Your mind is so singularly focused you can’t even be bothered to be tempted by the blood. Hells. You don’t even have permission to smell it, so you don’t. It takes you a moment to recognize the werewolf standing before you as part of Astarion’s powers.

Will his hellspawn mutt attack you as well? It drops the hunter with a howl that would make your blood run cold if it was not already and stares at you, waiting and watching, flexing its claws and growling. Its fangs are dipped in crimson, and blood drips from its snout. Astarion must have sent it to protect you. That’s the only reason it would be here with you and not helping him.

No! Go back. Help him.

You want to scream at it, but you’re already running again with the werewolf as your shadow.

It sprints ahead and kills any hunters that aim to thwart you, but if it misses, you do not hesitate to kill. You will take a million lives if it means you don’t have to feel that pain again, you will do anything to continue obeying, and you cast subconsciously with deadly power and finesse. Even the thought of turning around and going back, of defying your orders, causes pain to slice into your psyche like hot steel. An arrow plunges through your shoulder, swords and axes slice into your skin, painting your body vivid red, yet you feel nothing but the undeniable need to comply. Your nerves have not been given the authorization to feel pain. Could you even die, or are you not allowed?

When you finally break the treeline, the werewolf trailing you sinks back into the gloom as you bolt toward the manor with a resounding, echoing bay as if it’s signalling to Astarion that its job has been completed.

Run. Run. Run. Run.

You sprint full speed through Rivington, Wyrm's Crossing, and the Lower City without slowing your brutal pace. You blow past citizens who stare at you with wild eyes and angry shouts as you push past them with desperation so intense it eclipses everything else. Is this how Astarion felt when Cazador compelled him? Was he as helpless to refuse as you are in this moment?

Astarion has never compelled you before, at least that you know about. How long will this last? How far does his reach extend? If he told you to run forever, would your body run until the ground gnawed your legs into bloody stumps? What would happen if you could no longer run? Would the pain from disobeying eventually kill you, or would you be stuck in a purgatory of white-hot agony for eternity?

When you finally get to the manor and slam the door behind you. You stand stiff as a statue in the foyer. Sweat runs down your face and chest, but you can’t get your arms to move to wipe it from your eyes, and blood splashes, dripping onto the floor from your fingertips like a leaky faucet. Your head won’t swivel to look around, and your eyes will not move in their sockets, so you're stuck staring straight ahead. At least the chanting in your head has gone silent, and you can think freely, or perhaps that’s worse. Now, you can’t think of anything but Astarion, alone in battle with however many Gur. If they knew who they were hunting, which they must, they would come in vast numbers.

What was that idiot thinking? You could have helped him! He may be the Vampire Ascendant, but he’s not indestructible. Unless he is? Truly, you have no idea what he is capable of. Astarion is a force to be reckoned with, but will he lose himself in this? When he gets back to the manor which him will he be? Will you still be stuck like an effigy and unable to defend yourself? What if he doesn’t come back? Will you forever be a statue in this foyer?

Gods. You need to get back there and help him, but as soon as you have any intention of trying to move, trying to break this authority over your body, your mind warbles the enchanting tune of compliance.

Stay. Stay. Stay. Stay.

Fuck! You try your magic. It glows on your fingers and even heats in your palms, but without being able to move your arms, it’s useless. There’s nothing you can do. You’re immovable until either his compulsion wanes or he gives you new orders.

With nothing else to do, your mind wanders.

You prowl the halls of the Crimson Palace looking for Astarion after escaping from the prison of your room. The air in this place is musty, and you can still smell what remains of Cazador in the rooms and halls. This place is oppressive and cold, and he’s changed nothing.

“Astarion!” You scream in a blind rage that sweeps over you like wildfire.

You round the corner and see him sitting at his desk, glaring at you with a bland, expressionless stare. You fill yourself with the Weave until you’re awash with it, and your palms are so blisteringly hot that the skin boils and blisters. Whoever this man staring at you is, not the Astarion you knew.

You should try and kill him, but you cannot bring yourself to do it. Is that a consequence of being his spawn? Is your loyalty to him poisoned, or is it love that refrains you?

Astarion leans back, “What in the Hells,” he growls, his brows pinching together in a fearsome scowl, “do you think you’re doing out of your room?”

“Astarion. Listen to me, please,” you plead. “Something isn’t right. This is not you. Why are you doing this? Why do I have to stay in my room? What happened to Aeterna Amantes?”

“Oh, love,” he scoffs with a sneer. “Come now. Did you truly believe I would ever be beholden to one person? For eternity? HA! I told you before. I am a man of enormous appetites. Don’t worry,” he purrs. “You will always be my favourite.”

Angry tears roll down your cheeks at his taunts, and you can see in his face that he takes satisfaction in your pain. Fire bursts from your palm, licking up your forearms, “The Rite changed you. This isn’t you. You were never cruel before.”

“Are you positive you truly knew me?” Astarion stands slowly, “Yes, the Rite did change me. I am a veritable God! All thanks to you. You will forever have my undying gratitude. If you’re a good little pet, I will take excellent care of you. You will want for nothing.”

A good little pet...

“What I want is the old you back!” You shout at the top of your lungs.

“You want cute, cuddly Astarion?” He laughs mockingly and then hisses with venomous contempt, “That pathetic wretch is dead. He was a miserable, weak little pest. Grieve him, for he is gone, and he is never coming back.”

"Fuck! You don’t have to be cute, cuddly Astarion, but there isn’t even a hint of Astarion left in you, whoever you are!”

Astarion is advancing on you with slow steps, and you reflexively take steps back. Good Gods. He’s herding you like an animal.

“I am the Vampire Ascendant and your creator, and you will give me the respect I am due.” His hands come to his chin, “I think you will call me Master from now on.”

“I will never call you Master!” You retort in a voice dripping with defiance. Flames twirl around your forearms like a tornado.

“I could make you,” He rebukes with an impassive inflection, “All it would take is a thought, and you will do anything I say.”

“Then do it, you fuck!” You conclude, baring your teeth. You’re sick of his threats. If he’s going to make you a puppet, you would rather he get it over with. “Go ahead, Ascendant! Show me your power.”

Astarion laughs lightheartedly, but his face is as expressive as a white wall, “Don’t be such a fucking bitch.”

Oh. No.

You cast Scorching Rays against him, buffeting him repeatedly with a sorrowful, hopeless scream. It burns him, some of his pallid skin ruddy and his clothes hang off him in tatters. Astarion lunges at you, a streak of silver lightning, and throws you to the ground, breaking the floorboards beneath you. He snarls in your face with his fangs bared and pestilent abhorrence in his numb eyes.

“Do you feel like a man, Astarion?” You spit with a wheeze, “Does throwing me around make you feel good?”

It’s barely perceptible, but there’s a meagre flash in his eyes. The pressure with which he pins you to the floor recedes slightly. He shakes his head, and it’s gone. Astarion drags you through the halls by your ankle, down the stairs, uncaring as your head smashes against each step. You grimace, refusing to give him the satisfaction of crying out. You don’t bother to cast again as grief smothers your anger, and the flames die out along with your will to live.

Astarion tosses you into your room, your body skipping across the floor like a flat stone across the surface of a lake.

“Stay, pet.” He commands with an aloof chuckle, whirls around and leaves.

The lock clicks, and the metal bolt slides into place. Knock does not work on locks like that. It seems he’s learned your tricks.

“No!” You scream, rattling the door, “No! Please! Astarion, don’t do this.”

He does not answer.

It’s hard to tell how much time goes by. Days? Weeks? Who knows, but you’re so hungry that you’re sitting on the floor, sobbing against the door, clawing at it as if you might be able to dig your way out. Your fingers are bloodied, and you’ve ripped off your fingernails in your desperation.

“Astarion!” You wail, sobbing as your muscles jerk and spasm painfully.

He does not answer.

He never answers.

Your knees give way, and you crash to the ground, breaking you out of the memory. Astarion’s compulsion has broken, and your body is finally your own to control. You yank the arrow from your shoulder and burn it to ash.

Astarion… 

Peering around and listening closely, you surmise that he still has not returned. Pushing yourself to your feet, your muscles cramp severely and twitch, a tune of overexertion from your retreat. With the compulsion gone, sensation returns, and you feel the wounds you received with a biting ferocity. The only thing on your mind is finding Astarion, and you lunge for the door hastily. Golden rays of sunlight flood the foyer as soon as you fling it open, and you're washed in the agony of the Hells. Every nerve melts as you're immersed in rivers of liquid fire in Phlegethos. Your skin sizzles, snapping into fissures and greying rapidly.

It’s the kind of pain that makes you want to scratch your skin off to escape your body. You throw yourself back with a screech, and the pain ebbs as your skin slowly stops smouldering. Dropping to the ground, you cast Telekinesis and throw the door closed with a frustrated roar. If you cannot go into the sun, Astarion is not nearby or… Gods, you don’t even want to think about it. You don’t even want the thought to run through your mind, but it does, regardless of your restraint.

Astarion could be dead.

The only solace you have is that feeling in the back of your mind that still lingers. If he was dead, would that also disappear? You’re unsure. You tell yourself it would because you desperately need the lie to keep you sane. Reaching out to it, you try to force it open, but it does not budge, and Astarion does not respond to the request, increasing your panic further.

What can you do? You need to do something, anything, but what? You’re stuck in this fucking manor until the sun goes down. You get up and pace back and forth, rage building inside you. Why did he send you away? You’re a godsdamned terror in battle. You could have helped him, and now you’re stuck here, unable to do anything.

Fuck!

You scream as tears streak down your burnt face, grabbing a mirror from the wall and throwing it against the floor, shattering it to bits. He made you stand here like a foolish statue all night while he… you don’t finish the thought.

You can’t.

Come back to me. Please.

Things are falling apart quicker than you can piece them back together. Astarion told you he wanted you to be his, and you balked. All the reasons you felt so resolute about suddenly seem so trivial. For a year, you would have done anything to have him back, and now you do, and you’re too scared to put your already dead and broken heart on the table.

This love might kill you, but it’s not over. It was never over. It could never be over.

You chuck a vase against the wall and snarl like a wild animal. It bursts, showering the floor in a spray of glass. You cannot control your rabid emotions. You punch a hole through the wood panelling, tear paintings off it and snap them into pieces as you fall into a tailspin of misery.

You pace the hallways in a rage. At him. At yourself. At the world.

You will not lose him to whatever that thing is inside of him.

You will not lose him.

You cannot lose him.

The jagged pieces of your frenzy are strewn haphazardly throughout the manor and resemble a portrayal of what remains of your life. Everything is broken, fragmented and sharp enough to cut down to bone.

Desperate to feel close to him in some form, you run up to his room. It smells like bergamot and rosemary with a hint of aged brandy - it smells like him, and he smells like home. You inhale deeply. Grim thoughts race through your mind like a whirling flood that creeps out of your eyes in the form of tears.  Without Astarion’s heartbeat, the silence in this place is heavy and dark, like a passing cloud.

You lay on the bed, and your hand skims over where he was this morning when you woke with your head on his chest. Astarion held you all night and long into the morning. When your eyes opened, Astarion was already gazing at you with scarlet eyes as gorgeous as the heavens and as deep as the hells. His expression was warm-hearted, loving even. He looked at you like he used to.

“Well, hello, beautiful.”

He smiled, sweeping your hair out of your sleepy eyes. All the things he’s said to you start echoing through your mind.

“I missed you, you know. When you left.”

“You make me feel.”

“I could never get you out of my head.”

“I told you I can be romantic.”

“Yes, little love, true feelings.”

“My feelings for you, of course.”

Good Gods. Has he been trying to tell you he loves you through his actions this entire time? You’ve been so caught up in not letting yourself fall into another trap that you didn’t see it. You were reading random pages and not the entire book.

It ends today. You don’t know where this will end, but you know where it must start.

Curling up on the bed, you cry until you manage to push yourself into your trance because that’s all you can do.

Your hand slams into the wooden door with a force that causes it to whine. Night has finally consumed the sun, and Astarion still has not returned. When you woke, the manor was still deathly silent.

Shadowheart opens the door a crack, and her eyes widen when she sees you. She scowls fiercely, “Did Astarion do this to you!?” She growls with a clenched fist.

Did he do what to me? Oh....

“No,” you assure quickly. Your skin is still creviced and grey with red, scabbed lacerations marring your flesh. You push yourself into the house. “This was not him. He’s missing. I need your help to find him.”

Shadowheart’s magic washes over you, healing your wounds, and she takes a quick step back. She knows better than to get too close to you, but right now, your hysteria is overriding any bloodlust you might feel.

Even though she does smell delicious.

Gale frowns, “What do you mean missing?”

“We were attacked by Gur in the forest last night,” you blurt out rapidly. “He hasn’t come home.”

Gale smiles. He fucking smiles, and it takes everything in you not to slap that grin off his face. He shrugs, “Good riddance, I say.”

“I’m sorry, but I agree with Gale,” Shadowheart crosses her arms. “He told me what happened. Is it true Astarion was going to kill him?”

“Gale attacked him!” You roar with a hiss, narrowing your eyes at Gale who noticeably jolts at your rough inflection. You sigh and try to calm your rampaging temper, “You don’t understand, and I do not have time to explain it right now. Without Astarion, I cannot be out in the sun. I only have until dawn to find him. We must hurry.”

Gale scoffs, “I’m sorry, but there is no “we,” in this, my friend. If the Gur took care of that monster for us, we should be thanking them.”

You knew Gale would be a longshot, especially after what happened at the manor, but Shadowheart might still be swayed but your pleas.

“Shadowheart, please,” you beg, tears kissing your cheeks once again. “I need help.”

“I don’t know...” She sighs, rubbing her face. “He’s dangerous. Why not just leave him to his fate? If he is dead, you’re free. Isn’t that what you want?”

“Not if his death is the price of that freedom,” you rasp. You clutch your chest, wishing to feel his heart beating behind your breast, to feel complete, because, without him, you are so vastly empty. “Dangerous as he is, he is my safe, Shadowheart.”

“How did you get away?” Shadowheart asks.

“He compelled me,” your voice breaks. “The idiot compelled me to leave.”

Shadowheart arches a brow and purses her lips, “Does he compel you often?”

“He’s never compelled me before,” you groan at the memory of your body betraying you. “Astarion told me to leave, and I refused. It’s the first time he’s compelled me, and it was to get me away from danger. Stupid, foolish imbecile!”

Well, it’s the first time he’s compelled you that you know about, but alas, she doesn’t need to know that.

Shadowheart looks you over and you’re not exactly sure what she’s looking for, but she finally nods, “Okay. Give me a moment to get ready. I will help you look for him.”

“You cannot be serious, Shadowheart!” Gale says hoarsely.

Shadowheart sniffs and waves dismissively, “We have all had our demons, Gale. Astarion is no exception.”

“He killed her!” Gale shouts. “He turned her into,” Gale cringes with a gesture toward you. “This.”

Gods, you’ve had just about enough of everyone blaming him for your choices, and you step forward, “I wanted to be turned into this,” you hiss in contempt. “Astarion did not force me. I’ve told you this time and time again.”

Shadowheart gives your arm a light tug, pulling you back, “I will help you look. Perhaps it would be best for you to wait outside, and Gale,” she scolds with a sniff, “I expected better of you. Gods know you reached for unfathomable power, and you would have taken it in a heartbeat.”

The air is crisp in your lungs. Shadowheart was right to send you outside. There is no time to participate in an argument right now, but you will have to return and speak to Gale and Shadowheart eventually to sort this out - if it can be sorted out.

Shadowheart joins quickly, dressed in her armour with her spear slung across her back and a pack around her shoulders, “Let’s go,” she nods. “How much ground do we have to cover?”

“We were on the outskirts of the forest when they attacked. It’s not a substantial distance, but it’s not close either. We will have to hurry.”

You can run endlessly since you don’t require air, and you bolt ahead of Shadowheart to scout the way. Your body is sticky with sweat. It rolls down your temples like a stream from your pores. The adrenaline coursing through your veins is a welcome distraction from the woe warping your heart.

How had the Gur known where you were? Someone must have tipped them off, but who?

It doesn’t take long until the air smells of sweat, death and old, congealed blood, and you can at least follow the scent. The forest is eerily soundless, with only small streaks of moonlight as pale as ghosts streaking through the dense canopy. No animals scurry. No wind blows. No insects chirp. Only the sound of your feet crunching over the forest floor.

Mutilated bodies of Gur, werewolves, and hundreds of bats litter the earth in a carpet of flesh and gore. The ground is a blood-stained dark maroon and squelches under your feet as you slow your pace. Your mouth drops open as you look around, astonished at the number of bodies. Terror sinks into you, and you start pulling on bodies only to uncover more underneath. Heaps of dead in unfathomable numbers. Hells. You listen for a heartbeat but hear none. You choke back sobs. There’s no way he could have survived this, and you hate him for making you leave.

Your ears twitch as they catch the sound of twigs breaking behind you. If it were Shadowheart, she would surely make her presence known. You whirl just in time for snapping fangs to miss your throat as a werewolf lunges. You cast Gust of Wind and send it reeling off its feet. It stands snarling, but it’s gravely wounded, with a sickeningly large festering gash in its belly. You don’t know if this thing will listen or if it can even understand you, but you must try.

“I’m a friend.” You put your hands up but are ready to cast should this prove to be a futile attempt. “Your master’s friend.”

Its ears flick and twitch around as it listens. It sniffs the air and makes no further move to attack.

“Take me to him,” you instruct as commanding as you can. “Now.”

Its lips pull back to reveal rows of sharp teeth and growls, but it turns and plods away unsteadily. You don’t know if it’s just decided you’re not a threat or if it will take you to Astarion, but you pursue it.

The number of bodies dwindles the further you follow, with only a few scattered here and there like dead leaves shed from the trees. Sliding down a steep incline, it finally turns to you, ears flattening against its head, drooping at the tips, and points its disfigured paw with a melancholy whine.

You scramble forward, eyes skimming the ground, and finally see Astarion lying motionless on the rust-coloured earth, painted with blood and gore. His ivory skin only peeks through between the cracks in the drying crimson veil sheeting his body. Countless wounds mar his flesh, some superficial and others that make your stomach twist in your belly, threatening to spill its contents.

You flop to your knees and shake him vigorously, “Astarion!” Your voice is a screeching pitch that could shatter glass, “Astarion! Wake up! Please.”

He does not wake or rouse. He’s cold, deathly cold like he used to be. Leaning down, you put your ear to his chest and try to stifle your loud sobbing so you can listen. You hear nothing. His chest is as silent as yours, seized by the dominion of death. Touching his cheek, you scream shrilly into the night, lamenting your pain to the heavens.

Shadowheart.

You don’t want to leave his side, but you pull yourself away and charge with renewed vigour until you catch Shadowheart’s scent and the hammering thud, thud, thud of her heart. You nearly crash into her in your haste.

“Hells,” She jumps, grabs your shoulders to steady you, and sees the inconsolable look on your face, “What’s wrong?”

“I found him,” your knees are rickety. The only thing keeping you upright and from hurtling off the edge of collapse is the need to return to his side. He can’t be dead. He can’t be! “I think… Gods, I think he’s dead, Shadowheart.”

Shadowheart’s mouth drops open in a gasp, “Show me.”

Sliding down the slope, you dive to Astarion’s side, hands coming to his face, sweeping your thumb across his frigid cheek. Shadowheart drops to her knees with magic already glowing on her fingers. The colour drains from her face, leaving her as pale as you, awash with horror at the grotesque sight.

“Hells below,” she mumbles. “Is his heart beating? Does it usually beat?”

She knows your hearing is sharper than hers, “It usually does,” you falter and place a splayed hand on your chest. You glance at her and shake your head, “It’s as still as mine.”

Shadowheart casts and her magic sinks into Astarion, but he does not stir. She tries again, and again, and again, increasing the strength with every successive round with no result. Astarion does not so much as twitch a finger or muscle.

You shake him again, screaming into his face as your tears fall like raindrops splashing on his cheeks, “Don’t you dare think about leaving me! Please... please, don’t leave me alone. I need you, Astarion.”

Shadowheart’s cheeks are red, and her eyes brim with shiny tears. She gives you a look of regret, and you know what she’s thinking without her even saying it because you’re thinking it, too.

“He can’t be...” you choke as you fall to pieces.

“I’m sorry,” Shadowheart shakes her head. Her face contorted in sorrow, “I’m so sorry.”

You fall forward onto Astarion’s lifeless chest, blanketing him with your body, and you scream, guttural and ear-splitting as continuous as the stream of time.  

Big thank you for everyone who takes the time to read/reblog/comment, and all the other magnificent things. As always, I hope you enjoy this, darlings!

AO3 [Crossposted]

Master List of Chapters: Fangs and Fractured Hearts

If you're interested I write another fic with Spawn Astarion x Tav called - Shadows of the Past

Small Notes:

I'm releasing this chapter earlier than I usually do because I've finally had some time to sit and do nothing but write (my favourite), but that means it may push back the release of the next chapter. It will depend on how work and life go this week.

Apologies, darlings. For the cliffhanger.

#ascended astarion #astarion fanfic #bg3 #astarion x you #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion smut #fangs and fractured hearts

[astarionslittlejuicebox]

The Story in Our Scars

Author: @astarionslittlejuicebox

Imagine: The reader is concerned with the story behind Astarion’s scars, but what happens when he inquires about the story behind theirs? 

Pairing: Astarion x F!Reader

Requested: Yes by Anonymous 

Trigger warnings: minor spoilers (Act 2), suggestive themes, language, mentions of death, mentions of blood, mentions of self-harm, mentions of self-degrading

Word Count: 1739

Side notes:

I own no rights to the characters of Baldur’s Gate 3. 

Scars—a topic (TAV’s name) knew all too well that it was a touchy subject for anyone. Everyone in camp had their own scars—Karlach, Wyll, Shadowheart, Halsin—and each scar carried its own story. Some people in camp were open to discussing them: Karlach proudly tells the story of how she got one of her scars from fighting a voracious devil in the Nine Hells. Others, like Halsin, took a bit more convincing to indulge in the stories of their scars. Astarion, the pale elf of the group, had shown her his scars after a night of pleasure, but he was also reluctant to speak further on the story of them. 

Scars had been the topic of conversation lately between Astarion and (TAV’s name). The runes carved onto the flesh of the vampire spawn’s back were occupying Astarion’s mind since the (TAV’s race) had mentioned something about the scars being written in infernal. The spawn wouldn’t admit it to (TAV’s name), but the scars on his flesh had been taunting him since she drew the scars in the dirt at camp. After speaking to Raphael at Last Light Inn, the topic of the scars weighed even heavier on Astarion’s mind as he wondered when the devil would get back to him about the deal. 

Scars was a topic that (TAV’s name) was hesitant to talk about. Raised areas on the skin often drew people’s curiosity, and not all scars came from a victoriously bloody battle or from a cruel, abusive master. No—some scars came from one’s own demons inhabiting their mind.

Scars had been the topic of discussion that night at camp after learning of Raphael’s deal with Astarion outside the tomb of Ketheric Thorm. Karlach and Wyll exchanged stories about fabled foes from the Nine Hells, while the others in the group listened and drank wine. (TAV’s name) felt comfortable with everyone as they shared, but when the attention turned to her, she avoided the topic entirely.

“My—it’s been a long day.” (TAV’s name) spoke with a yawn. “I believe that I shall be heading to bed. We do have a daunting task ahead of us tomorrow.” She stood up abruptly and told everyone good night before the (TAV’s race) rushed to her tent. The rest of the camp shared concerned glances, but continued their lighthearted conversations about bested beasts and other endeavors. Astarion, however, was far more curious about (TAV’s name)’s strange behavior than he was about the stories shared around the campfire.

(TAV’s name) quietly sank into her bedroll as the sound of the group’s laughter echoed off the temple walls around her. Her heart was beating rapidly in the center of her chest.

They’re laughing at you. The dark voice in her mind said, and she squeezed her eyes tighter. Your scars are pathetic compared to theirs. The voice taunted further. The (TAV’s race) felt a familiar pool of liquid form in her eyes as the words echoed in her head. Blinking, she focused on her breathing; a habit she had learned long ago to cry without bringing attention to herself.

You know you want to do it. The voice in her head taunted. You want to add to your story, and make more pretty thin lines on your skin. (TAV’s name) covered her ears and squeezed her eyes shut in a desperate attempt to silence the voice in her mind. The lady laying in her bedroll hadn’t brought a sharp instrument to her skin since she had been abducted by mind flayers, but that doesn’t mean the voice in her head had stopped tormenting her. Now, the voice grew louder as the minutes slowly turned into hours.

As the laughter and chatter slowly died and everyone went to their tents, (TAV’s name) laid quietly in her bedroll. 

You’ve fallen in love with him, and he’s far too perfect for you. The taunting voice had taken a different approach now. His scars have meaning. What do yours mean? Tears started to form in her eyes again as she listened to what the voice was saying. 

Across the camp, Astarion laid on his bedroll in his tent, but he was wide awake. Something about (TAV’s name)’s behavior earlier had left him unsettled. The talk of his scars never seemed to bother her, but when the conversation turned to her scars…something seemed to be off. Settling on the fact that something must be bothering her, the vampire spawn got up and started his way to her tent.

Your scars just prove how weak you truly are. Don’t they? The voice continued its ruthless monologue. Astarion spent two centuries enduring a living nightmare; Karlach got hers literally living in Hell. How did little ol’ (TAV’s name) get hers? Tears freely flowed out of the (TAV’s race)’s eyes as she sniffled. Holding her breath to calm her down only caused her to take a quick, almost hyperventilating breath. This noise, while she thought it to be quiet, was picked up by the vampire spawn’s sensitive ears. Astarion frowned and quickened his steps towards his destination.

(TAV’s name) got her pretty little scars because she was weak. The cruel voice continued its cruel taunting. (TAV’s name) couldn’t bear to compare herself to the others—Shadowheart, Laezel, and Karlach—so she carved reminders of her doubts. The tears flowed freely as the woman laying on the ground struggled to breathe properly. What a weak, pathetic woman that others have blindly—

“(TAV’s name)?” The tent flap lifted up, and Astarion saw the shaking shoulders of the (TAV’s race) before he heard the familiar sound of crying. The pale elf’s ears could hear the rapid rhythm in his traveling companion’s chest, and he rushed over to her. “(TAV’s name).” He repeated as he turned her to look at him. Tears streamed down her face as wide (TAV’s eye color) colored eyes stared at him wildly. She tried to form words, but her sobs stopped any and all words that tried to pass through her lips.

“It’s okay. I have you.” Astarion spoke in a hushed tone as he cradled her in his arms. The vampire spawn calmly stroked her hair as she had done to him a few times after he had nightmares. Slowly but surely, (TAV’s name)’s breaths slowed, and her body physically relaxed in his arms.

“I’m sorry.” (TAV’s name)’s soft voice spoke after a few moments of silence. “I was trying to calm down, but—“ Astarion kissed the (TAV’s race)’s forehead. 

“I accept your apology, even though one is not necessary. However, I am more curious as to why you were crying. You acted so strange earlier when we were talking about scars.” Astarion shifted her in his arms, so he could look at her face. Her (TAV’s eye color) eyes refused to meet the intense gaze of Astarion’s crimson ones. She took a deep breath.

“Everyone’s scars have some story attached to them….” She quietly said with a look of pain evident on her face. “Yours made by a cruel master; Karlach’s made from fighting foes in the Hells; hell, even Halsin’s came from mating with an actual bear.” Astarion’s eyebrow raised itself, but he kept quiet as (TAV’s name) continued to speak. “Mine don’t come from either of those.” It was at this movement that (TAV’s name) moved the fabric of her sleeves to reveal several little white lines across her forearms. Astarion stared at the straight scars with a curious face.

“So, what’s the story behind your scars?” He asked, but his voice was soft with genuine curiosity; however, the woman in his arms sighed heavily.

“My scars—“ Pain was evident in her voice. “—are a product of the voices in my head.” Tears began to form again in her eyes. “Some are from the voice’s telling me I’m unworthy; some of the scars are from the comparison of myself to the others.” Her voice broke as tears started to steam down her face. 

“I made most of them many years ago when I was teenager, but some old habits die hard.” A fake chuckle came from the woman Astarion was looking at with saddened eyes. “Some of these were made when we started this journey together….” Her voice grew very quiet. 

“Darling,” Astarion’s voice was soft as he spoke to her. “Why would you do that to yourself?” (TAV’s name) sniffled her nose as she shrugged her shoulders.

“Sometimes I did it to silence the voices—they always went quiet afterwards. Sometimes I did it to try and bring myself back to reality.” Her eyes shifted to look up at the pale elf through her eyelashes. “I am not the strong person everyone at camp thinks I am.”

“I am not the prettiest, nor the strongest; I am not righteous, nor the sanest. I am the weakest because I have given myself these scars.” Astarion felt his heart break as the words left his companion’s trembling lips. “All because some voices in my head say I’m a horrible person.” She looked down, anger clear on her face. Astarion’s hand lifted her chin, so she would look at him.

“If there is something that I have learned from you, it is that people are more than their scars and the stories behind them.” Astarion’s soft voice drew (TAV’s name)‘s attention. “Scars don’t tell us anything about that person’s personality, their morals, or their values.” A soft smile was on the vampire spawn’s lips.

“You…you’re incredible.” Tears continued to stream down the (TAV’s race)’s face.

“You have given so much of yourself to everyone here. You have been the glue that has held each and every one of us together at some point, and you continue to do so despite everything those voices tell you. There is not one person in this camp that isn’t grateful that they have met you.” The vampire spawn wiped the tears falling freely from (TAV’s name)‘s eyes. “I am grateful to have met you.”

“So, let my voice be louder than those stupid little ones in your head: you are worthy; you are incredible; and…I’m so proud of you.” A small smile was present on the vampire spawn’s lips, but he was startled when the (TAV’s race) suddenly wrapped her arms around him. 

“Thank you.” She whispered into his ear. His shock slowly dissipated as he slowly wrapped his arms around her.

“No—thank you.” He whispered back as he received his first hug in over two centuries.

#astarion imagine #astarion x reader #baldursgate3 #baldursgate3imagine #astarion fluff

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

My brain is melty but something something “you want to bet on it?” Not exactly astarion and Tav but like. The rest of the camp talking about them?

Feel better soon!

A/N: This was actually a lot of fun! You didn't specify so I decided to go with Ace!Tav AKA Evie for this prompt. Hope that's okay.

Consider this a continuation of this headcanon.

Astarion x Ace!Tav (Evie) Masterlist

“You know what? I don’t think they’re fucking.”

Gale choked on his drink, following Karlach's eye line to a familiar corner.

Astarion and Evie had found their own little piece of no where, as was becoming habit with them at this point in the evening. Astarion had an arm wrapped about them and he whispered something in their ear, causing them to laugh. Astarion answered this with a playful nip of their neck which is right about when Gale averted his eyes. They were entitled to some privacy.

"My ears would beg to differ," he said, dryly. "I swear I didn't get a wink last night."

"Well that's just the thing innit?" Karlach pressed. "I mean, I can understand getting that riled up every now and again, but every night?"

"Astarion is a vampire," Wyll pointed out. "Even a spawn is liable to have higher than average...stamina."

Karlach let out a snort. "You read too much. Besides, even if that was true, doesn't stop E from being human."

"Why though?" Gale said. "What would be the point of pretending engage in such, ah...enthusiastic intercourse? I mean, we all know they're together. Why the extra show?"

"I would not be surprised if Astarion is putting on, as you said, an extra show," Lae'zel said. "He has boasted many times of his prowess in giving carnal pleasure. Not to mention, he likes to make clear what is his. Ravaging sex would accomplish both quite easily."

"Still doesn't explain E's half of all this," Karlach insisted. "It does take at least two, last I checked."

"Trust me, just two is enough," Gale grumbled. "If you want proof for yourself, I am more than happy to switch rooms."

"No good. I'm just below them."

"Oh for Gods' sake!"

"You've been oddly quiet, Shadowheart," Wyll interrupted, giving the cleric an assessing look. "Care you share your thoughts."

Shadowheart shrugged, carefully setting down her glass of wine. "I don't see what more I have to add to the conversation. You all seem set in your opinions."

"And I am curious to hear yours," Wyll pressed.

She rolled her eyes. "I think you all are putting a lot of thought into something that is frankly none of your business."

That got Gale's attention as he turned to her suspiciously. "Do you know something?"

"Nothing of importance. Besides, weren't you the one who said that some personal matters should remain personal?"

"Certainly," Gale said. "But when they are shared so openly, they can hardly be considered wholly personal."

"Well, that clenches it for me," Karlach said. "They're not fucking."

"I would be inclined to disagree, although now, I'm not so sure," Gale said, his brow furrowed in thought.

Lae'zel gave an exasperated huff. "Is it common in this realm to over analysis something as simple as mating?"

"It's extremely common," Wyll said, with a smile. "I take it that means you think they are, mating?"

"Obviously."

"Would you put money on that?" Karlach said.

Lae'zel raised an eyebrow. "A wager?"

"Sure. Ten gold says if we open the door on their room tonight, they're doing something stupid like moving furniture. And if I'm wrong, that's ten gold for you and spit in my eye."

The gith's eyes narrowed, before giving Karlach a stiff nod. "A fair wager. Although, I do not think spitting in your eye in necessary."

"I wouldn't go that far," Wyll said. "Depending what's on the other side of that door, it may be very necessary."

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x ace!tav #astarion x evie #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion ancunin #karlach #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #wyll ravengard #lae'zel #shadowheart #5 sentence fics #asexual!tav #ace!tav #bard!tav

[dmagedgoods]

Why ppl dislike Raphael this much?

It was a very loud minority, that's important to keep in mind. I counted how many people I blocked yesterday. It was around 30 or 40. - A very small number compared to all the people enthusiastically telling Larian to add a kiss on that weird tweet about him being a devil and an even more insignificant number compared to 542 signatures for our petition. We gained around a hundred more in one night only because the antis shared the petition so enthusiastically and made people see it who agree with us and not them. 😂 Looking at it all, I think Raphael is a very, very beloved character actually. Those antis don't truly hate him, they have the completely ridiculous idea that asking for more content with a character is "harassing the devs" in some way. A wild thought, since the devs will see that (very politely phrased) letter around in the social medias once, maybe twice, and are perfectly capable of decision-making and choosing if any of it fits their plans or not. Other antis think that Larian even considering more Raphael content would take away resources from their beloved faves. - What isn't only hypocritical but makes no sense at all, since it's not mutually exclusive to work on more content for character A and character B. Raphael's story arc (as much as I love our devil) in the game itself is weak. And needs as much polishing as many other things. And the third group of antis I saw, well, they didn't truly read the letter and apparently only saw one point with the idea of Raphael being in camp for a while. What is, yes, the most unlikely of the ideas, but also just one among so, so many others that would be much easier to implement. That he stays in camp only works if they'd write him a strong reason to do so. I did not think it was necessary to mention that but apparently, I should have. They think our suggestions are against his character and would take from it. (Please consider that many cishet men just don't like the idea of another male romance and that's all they need to be mad.) I don't agree that our suggestions are against his character at all. He already flirts with the MC, we just want to flirt back. The option to kiss him would go well with his plans actually, if he notices Tav's/Durge's interest is another tool to get them to take his deal. Romance-specific camp scenes with him would be more work and are not a must-have in the main game but how those camp scenes would look like - manipulative, cruel even, or a little more fond (he shows all those sides with us during the game) - would be up to Larian if they'd decide to make them. In any case: How much affection Raphael would or wouldn't feel for the MC and how much of it would only be a method to get what he wants would be free for interpretation (as it is right now already too). Visiting the HoH when not betraying him and talking there peacefully with him should be in the game already, actually. Exactly like the option to spare him after the fight with him should we so decide and his help during the last battle. That's not a weird or outgoing request, that's just things that should be possible actions/developments and belong in the game, in my opinion. Long message short: I don't understand the hassle at all. But it's twitter after all and, it seems to me that most of its users are only happy if they can pointlessly yell about something and hunt shadows. I, for my part, block them and continue to have fun with the content and characters I enjoy and also continue to hope Larian read the letter and considers the points in there they find fitting.

#dmagedanswers #bg3 raphael #raphael bg3 #raphael #baldur's gate #baldur's gate 3 #larian #larian studios #larianstudios #bg3 #bg3 spoilers

[viennacherries]

Oh oh, I have- well, not really a request, more so a prompt if it strikes any inspiration! No pressure!

I'm a sucker for wizards, so it should come as no surprise that I adore Rolan and Gale. My first Tav was also a wizard, big surprise. I love the scene in the game where Gale teaches you magic and if you're a wizard you can basically be a show off. But- imagine Rolan being ever so kind and offering to give you a quick lesson. The catch is, he doesn't know you're a wizard for some reason... so he's really showing off and making a big deal about the movements and pronunciation for the spell, and at first you're playing dumb. "Oh, like this?" *does everything wrong*.

Rolan walks you through the steps again, and this time you are like "oh, I see! Like this?" and proceed to do the spell perfectly AND with a little bit of flare. Rolan wants to curse because how the hell did you catch on so quick!!! Whether or not you reveal you're a wizard, I'll leave up to your imagination. 😂

I just finished Kiss The Cook and oh my lord I was GIDDY upon realizing Rolan was gonna propose. I yelled so loudly. 10/10. I loved it.

sorry for taking a while with this one! wanted to wait until i was properly inspired so i could do it justice cos i think it's so funny and cute. so much room for shenanigans.

i might continue this one and turn it into something multi-chaptered if people like it? maybe some freaking wizard on wizard smut later on? 👀

for now tho it's just cute and wholesome, i had a lot of fun with this. enjoy!!

SFW

read it on ao3 here

~~~

"Like this?"

Bless him. Rolan is trying to be patient but you can see the mounting frustration on his face every time you mess up a movement.

"Not quite. That one was close, though. It's more like this."

He turns to face you, brings his hands up and around in elegant, practiced arcs before clasping them together and forcing them outwards towards you. A brilliant burst of purple light flows forward, soft around the edges and pulsating with weave. You can feel it emanate from it, calling to you.

You're not quite sure how Rolan managed to never learn that you're a wizard, though you suppose the only times he really saw you fight were when you were defending him in the shadow-cursed lands and when you defeated Lorroakan. Admittedly, he had other things on his mind. He probably just wasn't paying attention.

Regardless, now you're standing in a large open room underneath the Sundries, where Rolan is insisting on teaching you magic. You're not blind; you know he's doing it because he has feelings for you. You would have put him out of his misery and told him you have feelings for him too, but it's rather cute when he tries to impress you.

Like now, for instance.

Every demonstration is slightly exaggerated. His posture is tighter and more disciplined than is strictly necessary, and with every somatic shape he creates he adds enticing flourishes, his fingers curling and pointing invitingly. He's putting on a lovely show for you.

Which is why you'd decided to just... Go along with it.

Is it very polite? Absolutely not. Is he going to be incredibly embarrassed when he realises the truth? Absolutely. But how are you supposed to resist when he looks so delicious like this? His tongue flicks out to brush over his lips to wet them every time he utters the incantation in demonstration, and a few stray strands of hair twist and curl in the air from the weight of the weave in the atmosphere. He looks regal, practicing his craft. Your shared craft.

You swore off dating other wizards when you were at university. Men were insufferable at the best of times, let alone wizard men who thought they were Mystra's gift to spellcraft. You'd made a promise to yourself, after one unsuccessful date of many, with a man who started trying to explain how cantrips worked to you, that you would only date non magic-users.

Gale had been quite disappointed to find that out, bless his heart.

But Rolan. There's just something about him, which is weird.

It's mostly weird because when you met him you absolutely despised him. He demonstrated all of the worst qualities you'd come to expect from your peers during your education; arrogance, self-importance, pride, vanity, etcetera, etcetera. You distinctly remember sharing a look with Karlach as you walked away from him and his siblings, both of you pulling a face of utter disdain.

He'd changed though, over the course of the journey. After his siblings being kidnapped, his apprenticeship souring, he'd become incredibly grounded. Besides, his arrogance actually wasn't completely misplaced. He's incredibly gifted with his manipulation of the weave. Not that you'd ever tell him that.

In the aftermath of the Absolute's invasion you've spent a lot of time with him, and you've decided he looks rather beautiful when he casts. His brow furrows in concentration and his eyes gleam with a determination that's easy to get caught up in.

And his hands. You stare at his hands a lot.

"Do you want to try again, or are you just planning on standing there all day?"

His words bring you back to the present. Ah, yes. Magic lesson.

It's probably time to end the charade, really. You definitely can't keep this up forever. It's actually rather difficult to keep doing spells wrong when you've been trained so thoroughly on how to do them right.

By the Gods, though, you're going to have some fun with it. You took a couple of acting classes in your second year, at a local bard college, so you're determined to sell it.

You make a big show of taking a deep breath in, shaking your hands out as if you're trying to dispel nervous energy. Rolling your neck around it makes a large crack, and you lace your fingers together and stretch your arms out in front of you to crunch your knuckles. He watches you eagerly, ready to appraise your efforts, and you can't help the upward tick at the corner of your mouth.

The movements are second nature, really. You twirl your hands into elegant shapes as you raise your arms, and twist them around you in a circular motion; a grand emulation of Rolan's earlier demonstration. As you surge your hands forwards, a bright burst of light surges forwards, bathing the pair of you in a velour glow.

Rolan's face is absolutely priceless. You have to physically swallow down the laugh that threatens to bubble up within you.

"... Like that?" The mirth in your voice, however, is more difficult to disguise.

Rolan just stands, staring at you. His mouth is agape, and he's gradually turning a rather beckoning shade of crimson. The laugh you've been holding back bubbles out of you, and you fold over yourself and brace your hands on your knees as you cackle.

"I... You..." His difficulty forming his words only makes it more entertaining, and you clutch at your stomach as the hilarity of the situation rolls over you. You manage to steel your breathing and calm your laughter, and glance back up at him, but he's still got that incredulous look on his face with his mouth hung open, and it sends you back into hysterics.

"You... You're a wizard?! Why did... Why didn't you..." He trips over every half-thought word, trying to come to terms with the fact that he's been completely blindsided and utterly bamboozled. You calm your laughter and straighten up, a light chuckle spilling from you.

"Yes, Rolan, I'm a wizard. I'm sorry for teasing, I just couldn't resist."

His face is so red he could be mistaken for a gith's dragon.

"I don't... How did I not..." He evidently is still struggling with stringing coherent thoughts together, but you know what he's trying to say. You shrug in response, a smile plastered on your face.

"I don't know, to be honest. I killed at least two of the shadow-creatures that were after you with Magic Missile, and I don't think I could survive without Mage Hands. I'm too short to reach any of the shelves in the library."

"Well." He huffs. "... I could get you a step-stool, if you like."

You can't help throwing your head back at that and laughing openly, "it's fine, really. I manage just fine."

"Why didn't you tell me? I've been stood here like an imbicile, making a big glim show trying to-" He cuts himself off, and the flush that had just began to subside comes back in full force. "I mean- I was-"

"Trying to impress me?" You can't be blamed for teasing him more, surely? When he looks so utterly delectable with that blush over his cheeks? "Don't worry, sweetheart," you drawl out the syllables of the pet name and throw him a wink, "consider me impressed."

As you turn to leave you hear the way his breath catches as he breaths in, and he chokes and splutters on the air. You barely contain your laugh as you begin ascending the stairs back to the main hallway.

Rolan stands behind you, staring at your back as you depart; face burning and tail flicking in wild arcs behind him.

#bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfic prompt #bg3 requests #bg3 fluff #bg3 rolan #rolan #rolan bg3

[i-cast-bardic-inspiration]

Halsin with a Tav who had a toddler? Like they get back to Baldurs gate or theyve been nursing an egg(for the Gith and Dragonborn Tavs) that’s now hatching.

Pls let him be the dad he’s always wanted to be 🥹

Okay, first off thanks for sending in your request! I hope it’s alright to do this in a mix of headcanons and narrative blurbs because I have too many ideas for this wholesome content. Also, if I interpreted your Ask wrong please let me know and I’ll amend! 

But alright, here we go—let’s give our Big Bear some love and let him be Daddy Halsin because he deserves all the best things. 

*TW: Pregnancy talk, mentions of past trauma, wholesomeness so wholesome it hurts

Halsin will be in shock for a brief moment before going into Daddy Halsin mode. This man has just gone through the most traumatic hundreds of years; in pure survival mode after losing his family, being held prisoner in the Underdark, dealing with the Shadow Curse and all that it has brought upon him—he never once during that time was afforded the opportunity to simply…live. He always focused on doing what was necessary to survive. So now that he finally can let some of his walls down? Now that his lover just told him they have a child? 

He looks at you frozen in disbelief…he never thought he would be able to have his own family. And now you’ve given him one of life’s greatest joys in the mere blink of an eye. His whole world has turned on its axis in the best of ways and he needs a moment to find his feet on the ground again. 

Whether it’s biologically yours or you’ve adopted, it doesn’t matter—he views it all the same. He is in awe, deep gratitude bursting forth for this bounty of nature you’ve provided him with; that you’ve invited him to share.

“My heart…you,” Halsin’s voice breaks, “Why did you not tell me before?” the question falls past his lips with a tremble, but there is no trace of anger or hurt in his tone. Only awe, tinged with a soft skepticism as though this moment will slip through his fingers and he will wake to find it was all a dream. 

You tell him why. Maybe it’s because you were scared he wouldn’t want anything to do with you or your child…maybe you didn’t want to distract him from all that still needed to be accomplished…maybe you didn’t want to add another burden to his already heavily-weighed-down shoulders—whatever it is…

He understands your fears but tells you to put them to rest because nothing—absolutely nothing—could ever deter him from loving and caring for you and your child. He is more than willing to step into the role of a father…if that is what you should wish of course, to share this part of your life with him…

As soon as you give him the affirmative, he is all over you. Wrapping you up in his strong embrace, placing kisses wherever his lips can reach before settling his face against your neck and inhaling deeply. Your scent calms him, and he needs it to ground himself after the revelation that he finally—finally—has the one thing he thought he’d never have again…a family. He is a dad. 

He’s a dad! 

His deep laughter echoes through the air. He’s overjoyed, a little scared maybe too, but his unbridled joy is contagious and you find yourself tearfully laughing along with him. 

With your invitation, he quickly stepped into full dad mode, and wants to unleash all the doting upon you and your child that he possibly can. 

If the baby has not been born/hatched yet; he’s all about using his skilled hands to melt the tension from your feet and calves and anywhere else you might be tense from carrying the weight of another; letting his healing magic wash over you when your head is pounding and stomach is churning from the extra hormones; making sure you have proper nutritional meals to keep your stamina up…his healer capabilities really kick into high gear here.

If your little one is already in the world, they immediately take to Halsin like a moth to light. And he takes to fatherhood just as easily. It is a precious and priceless thing to watch the two of them bond so quickly. You knew he would take to it naturally, having all the qualities of a loving and supportive father. He was always a wonderful listener, he was just as good of a teacher, and he still held so much wonder and love for the world even after all his years. His zest for life was contagious and played right into the natural curiosities of a child. 

Beneath all of the stoic wisdom is a man who loves to play. Loves to experience everything life has to offer. And it shows when they decide to have storytime before bed…or any other time your little one asks for stories. Which is a lot of the time because Halsin is rather good at it. He could be a bard if he wanted. But all he wants is to see the expressions of wonder on your child’s face, the shrieks of laughter and gasps of surprise filling his ears as he twists and turns the stories, acting them out with grand gestures and motions. 

Sometimes storytelling evolves into playing “Adventurers”—or so that’s what the two of them call this game anyway…you call it pure chaos, but you don’t mind one bit. Not as your little one rides on the back of a giant wildshaped bear through the forest, roars and laughter tickling your ears. You join in at times, and it usually ends in one big giant cuddle pile as morning turns into afternoon and sleepy little eyes close for a short nap. It’s at times like these his heart threatens to burst, and you can see it in his eyes—feel it in the way his fingers trace your jawline and move softly, reverently into your hair…soon you’re drifting off in the peacefulness of it all too. Halsin just lays there holding the two of you in his arms, listening to your soft inhales and exhales. In the slow moments is when he really feels it hit him. How contented he is. 

They’ll go on walks around the forest together, sometimes stop to examine a plant or a flower, your child asking Halsin 123812378 questions about everything they come across, and he answers every one of those questions with the utmost of patience. He genuinely loves to share his knowledge with young and curious minds. You can tell by the way his eyes light up, and how his voice excitedly carries across the meadow as he explains things like how flowers grow from the ground with the help of the sun and water and air. 

He even asks some questions of his own to get your child thinking and talking, and also just to be silly and play: “what kind of animal would you be?” ~ “what is your favorite thing to eat?” ~ “do you think cats can have fins?” ~ “what is your favorite thing to do with mommy and daddy?” 

When your child is sad or upset, he is there guiding them through their big feelings. Oak Father knows, Halsin has had his fair share of coping with tough emotions through his years. Even with all the practice he’s had though he still gets overwhelmed at times. Children need help getting through these sorts of big feelings, not to be admonished or chastised for feeling something natural. Of course while he usually spends time wildshaped when he needs to think, he knows that might not work for a child, and there are certainly other solutions. Like physical connection—hugs, and holding a safe space for your little one to feel. Maybe they need help labeling what they’re feeling, and Halsin is right there ever-observant and gentle with his words, “I see that you fell, does it hurt anywhere? Were you scared when you fell from the tree?” Your child responds tearfully, “it was scary,” so then after a quick scan Halsin knows he doesn’t need to mend any broken bones. He just needs to hold them and tell them it’s okay to be scared and to cry, and that they are very brave for doing so. 

It’s moments like this that you find your heart swell with fondness so vast it nearly hurts. Because you know how capable of ferocity he is, how much strength and fortitude he has shown in battles past…that seeing him like this, so patient and supportive, so loving and gentle…you know he has finally been able to take the armor off both literally and figuratively.

He walks lighter, laughs louder, plays harder. His love knows no bounds, and he makes sure the two of you know it with every breath he takes. With every scratch he mends. With every toy he whittles. With every blanket he tucks in and every kiss he lays atop a sleepy little head. With every word and kiss and hug…he embraces this simpler but no less meaningful side of life with arms opened wide.  

One day, after a very important and engaging conversation about “daddy, where do babies come from?” your little one asks him another question. “Daddy, can you and mommy make a baby?” His eyes lift to find yours, a heat there so smoldering you swear you could feel it sweep over your skin in a dizzying rush. “Little One,” he starts, tearing his gaze from you to look down softly at your child, “would you like that—a brother or sister to play with?” Their little eyes light up and they shout “yesyesyes!” 

Halsin’s smile lines deepen as he laughs loudly. “You will just have to wait and see my little heart, all will be as nature intends.” He knows that is a conversation to have with you in a more private setting. Though he’s pretty sure he can tell by the speed of your breathing, the flush of your face, and the warmth in your gaze that you are no doubt feeling the same sentiment he is in that moment.

Adding to your little family might happen sooner rather than later…and he definitely would not say no to having more little ones running around.

#my heart 😭 #my heart is full #Halsin #Daddy Halsin #please let this man have a family it is not too late for him #Best Dad Ever #all the Dad Jokes #i YEARN for this man #bg3 #Ask

[littlemonday]

A Re-Imagining of The Emperor’s Romance Scene

This is a work in progress and an excerpt of a longer piece I’m working on that I wanted to share during Emperor Week, but was too busy to get around to it. The longer piece is a re-imagining of the Baldur’s Gate 3 narrative, and this scene is a re-imagining of the romance scene with the Emperor. Sarai is the “Tav” character, and to give a little background on her: she knows little of her birth family, but she was born with some innate divination magic that she has somewhat learned to wield. She also possesses a bound weapon - a glaive - that she was told once belonged to her mother. She’s been developing her tadpole powers under the Emperor’s guidance, and in my head cannon, that development is causing faint changes to her appearance even before the astral tadpole. This scene takes place in the astral prism between Sarai and the Emperor.

NSFW, however, there’s nothing particularly graphic and there are no trigger warnings I can think of that I need to add. Approximately 1,800 words.

“There’s more to this prism than what you can feel. Than you can sense.” Sarai meets your gaze. Though subtle, the undeniable pulse of psionic energy leaves dark traces beneath her ashy skin, awakened from your connection. “There are memories here, an entire history. I felt it the moment I entered this prism for the first time. It’s taken me some time to unweave the strands of its essence from the psionic energy of this place, from the consciousness of the gith, but it’s unmistakable now. I can show it to you, if you like?”

You regard her curiously. The unusualness of her mind, that awareness you felt when you first connected has gnawed at you since. You have yearned to explore it, to know its secrets, but such excavating would endanger her. As resilient as a mind can be, it can also be remarkably fragile. Burrowing deep into its recesses could harm her, could break her. While such hungry digging would satiate your own illithid desires, the cost is too great. You know this from her. From Belynne.

“Open your mind to me.” There’s an intensity to her dark eyes, and you pause for a moment as you consider her offer. She has spent many nights in the prism with you learning, through your guidance, to focus the power the tadpole gives her. You have felt its power grow, but even then the depths of her mind remained walled off from you. Not all minds are easily accessed, but what superficial connection you have made thus far has only deepened your hunger for more. You carefully relax the edges of your mind, and your body follows in response. You notice a deep intake of breath from Sarai as she feels the edges of your mind connect with hers, and she focuses on a deep undercurrent of energy. Waves of it wash across her skin and yours, gentle at first, chilly, then growing in force. You sense a presence distinct from Sarai’s and distinct from the gith whose consciousness is subjugated by yours. There’s a power seeping into the very rock beneath your feet, and you see flashes of fertile land, mist from a waterfall floating above the rocky shore of a river, and an endless night sky, serene and uniform.

She is becoming a conduit.

A great power floods your essence and you feel the weight of a crown upon your head. This is your realm. Your very thoughts, your will touch and penetrate the landscape drawing on an ancient arcana, grounded and heavy. Your hands are no longer your own, but pale, spindly, and adorned with jewels. You hold in your hand a glowing disk carved with ancient runes you do not recognize, but its magic courses through you as you seek to bend it to your will. You seek to bend it in desperation, but it’s too late. You feel the rock beneath you fracture and the sky flash and split, blinding you with the white hot intensity of a sun. For a fraction of an instant your body feels the coming heat, then an endless darkness.

You’re thrown back into your own body, Sarai’s mind now severed from yours. The dark pulses beneath her skin recede as the waves of energy once washing over your skin evaporate leaving only the lingering memory of their touch. You feel Sarai’s hand on your shoulder as if to steady you.

“I’m fine,” you tell her.

That same intensity has not left her gaze. “I know.” There’s a hint of amusement in her voice. “I wasn’t sure what to expect, so I was just…” she pauses for a moment, “checking on you.” She removes her hand from your shoulder and turns to the expanse. “It’s incredible isn’t it? This place has lost none of its beauty even in its destruction.” Her tone becomes wistful and distant. “Memories fade with time, whether they are the memories in our own minds or the memories of a place. It takes powerful magic, or a powerful event, for such memories to linger at all.”

A moment of silence passes, broken only by the distant crackling of the red-yellow glow in the starry sky beyond. You look to the woman by your side, a formidable fighter, your sword, your ally in this fight for the fate of Fea’run, for your fate. She has opened her mind to yours, a mind you have grown most fond of, her company something you had not thought possible. You turn your body towards her as she gives you a curious look, turning to meet you. As formidable as she is, stronger and taller than most women, you still tower over her, but she shows not a hint of fear. You haven’t decided if she is foolish, or if she knows something you don’t. Perhaps it is something else entirely? This moment may not come again.

“The moment we met, and every moment since, I knew your mind was truly something special. I didn’t know what I expected when this mission began, but one thing I did not expect,” you notice Sarai’s head cock every so subtly to the side, “was how much I would enjoy your company. I have felt your potential, helped you harness it, and you have shown me the uniqueness of your gifts.” You sense Sarai straighten, not with fear or guardedness, but with curiosity. You turn your wrist and summon a small tadpole into your palm. “We are up against a great evil, but together we can face it, destroy it forever. Your magnificent gifts could be greater still for the fight that is to come for all of us. If you let me, I can evolve you.”

She regards the tadpole with hesitation, keeping her hands to her side. “What is it?”

“It’s a mind flayer tadpole crystallized from millennia in the astral plane, absorbing its energy, its power. It wants to evolve, but it cannot do so alone. It must commune with another. I have had the pleasure of studying your mind, of seeing what you can do, what you’re capable of. I believe I can help you fulfill your latent illithid potential if you let me.”

“How so,” she was quick to ask.

“Before the outward transformation of ceremorphosis, your body begins to connect. Your mind penetrates every part of you. I remember this feeling from my own evolution. I have been nurturing this tadpole, studying it to make it safe. I believe I can unleash your potential without turning you. There will be some physical alterations, but only partial. As we’ve explored your potential, I can see the power you harness pulsing under your skin. You’ve seen it, too. This will make that more potent, but I will not let you transform. Only the tadpole in your head can do that, and I will not allow that to happen.”

***

You feel a faint caress at the edges of your mind as you meet the Emperor’s eyes. It’s warm and excited, like the feeling of anticipation.

“Open your mind,” his voice deep and soothing. “You already know how.”

The tadpole yearns and aches for your connection. It’s starved and lonely. There was a time not long ago when you would have violently rejected such an offer and squashed whatever gift this was beneath your foot, but you find yourself meeting the rush of the Emperor’s anticipation with your own, closing your eyes and letting down your defenses. You feel a cold surge of energy run through your limbs, its intensity bordering on the edge of pain, connecting every joint, every muscle and organ with your thoughts, your consciousness. You flex and release your fingers. They’re tight as raw energy courses through them, but then the feeling settles leaving your body awakened, your skin pimpled, this change, dark and branching, is now written across your flesh like ink on parchment. The vicarious power you feel when you connect your mind with the Emperor’s is now yours.

“You are exquisite.” You feel a rush of warmth with the Emperor’s words. His warmth. “You know,” he pauses momentarily as though to consider his next words. “I have felt for some time that you and I have been dancing our way towards something deeper. We are more alike now than we have ever been. If you want, we could… further deepen our relationship.”

You feel your own warmth rise to meet his. “Are you trying to seduce me?” You notice his breath quicken with your words.

“Would you like that?”

You nod as a smile curls on to your lips, and you warm with another rush of feeling, the Emperor’s feeling, palpable and hotter this time, tingling down into your loins, and rising to a gentle fullness in the center of your chest. With a graceful flourish of the Emperor’s wrist your body becomes weightless, rising to meet his gaze. Within inches of his face your breath merges and you notice the familiar scent of vanilla now with a mellow hint of garlic. You touch the cold chitin of his armor with your fingertips, searching for a seam.

“Remove this. I want to see you.” Much like the magic of your weapon when you beckon it to your grasp, the carapace dissolves before you, allowing your fingertips to caress his chest. As you brush your fingers across his skin you feel a gentle caress cross yours. You take a deep breath to open your mind to the feeling, and your skin pimples under the sensation. The Emperor’s lower tentacles curl and rise towards your face stroking your cheek and the other cradling the back of your head. You take one in hand to meet your lips and mouth, evoking from him a deep guttural moan. You pause and notice his face relax, the severity of his brow softening under your touch. You bring his tentacle once again to your mouth. His fingers tense and release as he lets out another guttural moan, his breath quickening even more, your heart racing in response. You know he feels your desire, your heat, your own aching, and you feel your clothing loosen and open as its ties unravel at the Emperor’s thoughts, and the fabric used to hold your breasts in place during battle unwraps and falls away. The Emperor’s hands seize your hips as his tentacles wrap around your waist, your back, and between your thighs. You open your mind and his pleasure washes over you, and yours over him, and within both of you all at once. Every wave of feeling runs deeper. Every barrier to the other’s mind willingly flexes, then gives. Every point of flesh held to flesh, and limb intertwined with limb knows the absence of physical barrier. For these moments, there is nothing else, not even the space between one another. You are unbound and lost.

#emperor week #baldur's gate 3 #the emperor #fanfic #the emperor bg3 #the emperor week #romance #literally first post on Tumblr ever and it’s squid sex #wip

[thedomesticanthropologist]

would you be willing to do a little drabble about an asexual bg3 tav(male preferably) who’s hesitant to start a relationship with Gale cause they dont know how to be in a relationship without sex involved. for a game with almost unlimited options i wish there was more nonsexual intimacy and asexual characters. hope this sounds interesting enough to write, have a good day :)

This one gave me pause cause I'm assuming you mean your Tav is Asexual AND sex-negative or sex repulsed. But you're also mentioning that they don't know how to navigate a relationship without sex,

So I'm taking that to mean you have an Asexual Tav (does not experience sexual attraction, does not want sex to be part of their romance) who is either coming from a history of relationships where they had sex anyway, or felt they had to, and would like to enter into a relationship where this is off the table, so that they can fully enjoy the relationship on their terms and within their comfort zone. However, this would be the first time? That they are pursuing this?

So a few things!

Gale is of course, not asexual. He experiences sexual attraction. However, on the topic of would he be keen on a romantic relationship that didn't involve sex? I'm gonna say... ABSOLUTELY 💯

His relationship development with the PC is already a slow burn, wherein until his Orb is stabilized he cannot participate in physical shenanigans. This leaves a nice long window for him and Tav to develop a romantic connection and to bond and get to know each other, and talk about these things.

Tav would have to be straightforward, I think. Gale is extremely receptive to knowledge and information and likely either already knows all about this or would be a very eager student. He would want to know Tavs boundaries and I do not believe he would have ANY issue respecting them.

If Tav isn't sure where their boundaries are, that would be a personal exploration experience. Do they want non sexual intimacy? Are they physical in other ways? Do they wanna cuddle, wash each other's hair, share massages?

Intimacy and sex don't have to go together at all, and many a beautiful, fulfilling, wonderful life long love has been built without sex. Without making this too long, I'll add my thoughts for Gale and Tav

Once the boundary of no sex is set, I don't believe it would be difficult to navigate in the least. Gale is so much more than what he can give in the bedroom, and Tav is too. The two could spend a hundred years exploring each other and the world in so many ways.

Non sexual intimacy during their travels:

- Sharing food, maybe eating off the same plate, feeding each other, sharing wine or drinks

- spending the nights together cuddling, massages, hair scratches, bathing each other if nudity is okay 👍 . These things are what build real intimacy, and they never have to lead to sex

- kisses on the forehead, cheek, hands, shoulder.

- reading the same book together, reading out loud to each other

- acts of service, cooking for each other or making each other's bed, packing your partners things while they sleep in for them

- Sharing fears, insecurity, likes, dislikes, wishes, hopes, dreams,

Look I'm gonna level with ya. Sex is the least interesting part of true love and lifelong relationships. I've been with my partner for 18 years and you know what lights up my heart? When they get up before me and bring me a coffee to wake me up. You know what I do for them? They have chronic pain, and even when I'm tired, I will take an extra 30 minutes sometimes to help work the knots out of their back as best I can.

That is the foundation of love. Gale would be very receptive. Your Tav would be incredibly cherished. No sex required.

#asexual #asexual tav #asexual headcanons

[autistichalsin]

I need to start by saying: I'm feeling weird and awkward sending this ask. It's the outline of a scene I've been working on for over a week, rewriting and rewriting and rewriting. I'm finding it really overwhelming, specifically in nailing down how Halsin would react.

I think just about every version I've written over *could* be justified, but some how that leaves me even more unsure.

And you're an incredible Halsin expert, I love everything you've written about him, so I figured... there's no harm in asking. :x

But if you feel inclined to disregard, for any reason, like if it's too much, I understand.

--- So, ahem ---

In regards to the conversation Halsin and Tav have about Halsin's experience with the she-bear.

With the context of, Halsin is a werebear and doesn't know it. Tav is an antherion and thinks it's obvious, having talked with the other companions about it early on without it being any sort of reveal. She just assumes Halsin can tell, but he can't, thinking she's just a druid. Tav knows Halsin is a werebear and assumes he has a similar attitude that -- it's not a notable part of who he is.

There's some tension between Halsin and Tav. Tav thinks that Halsin is neglecting himself when it comes to the full moon. (She assumes this is because of the stress of the Goblins, the Grove, and most recently the Shadow Curse and its cursed lands.) It's a little bit frustrating because she helps his bear form and that takes time and effort. It's one more thing to add to her plate, a small thing she doesn't even consider ignoring, but one more concern all the same.

But it's also distressing to see what she thinks is a manifestation of his emotional state and trauma which he is otherwise able to repress. And it's easier to be frustrated than it is to be upset.

So she probably gives off the impression that she thinks Halsin is incompetent even as she becomes interested in getting to know him.

(But would any of this be something Halsin would pick up on? I think it's reasonable he would consider the possibility on its own, even just as a flash of shame. But as you've pointed out, there are several social cues he doesn't notice. Would he be aware of his own short comings socially and try not to dwell on her attitude (whatever that might be) towards him as he can not control her opinion and can't change her mind for her?)

What it breaks down to, is in their most relaxed and positive conversation yet, how would Halsin react if after sharing the story about the she-bear if Tav just stood there in silence before, without saying anything, turning into a dog and walking off?

Specifically, he's so caring of everyone else, and he can be so thoughtful. Would he consider the possibility that she is upset because she went through something similar (but was unsuccessful in her attempt to spurn her pursuer)? Or would it the possibility not occur to him?

How much would he wonder about the cause of such a sudden and intense reaction? How easily could he explain it to himself as another thing she sees as a failing or short coming of his and that she was walking off in disgust?

To what extent would he berate himself about it and what would he focus on? That, in general, he struggles socially and should of known better? Or that maybe the topic itself was too taboo to even mention?

Tav comes back to apologize for her actions the very next evening and they talk about it in depth.

---

*lies down* I'm so tired.

Thank you so much for your nice words!

I stared at this in my inbox for a few days, trying to think of something to say, but unfortunately, I'm going to have to disappoint you here, and I'm truly sorry for it. I really don't know how to answer your questions, because it just seems like... it's dependent on so much of what you want to do as a writer, and I feel like I can't really answer any of those without effectively writing the fic for you. Which I don't think is what you want me to do, especially since this is your Tav! I do think it sounds like an interesting idea and I would love to read what you come up with, though!