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littlejuicebox · 5 months

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Astarion talks in his sleep.

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader/Tav (Shadowheart is our lovely supporting role though.) Summary/Setting: 6 months post BG3, "good/spawn" Astarion ending, all fluff Rating/Warnings: PG / Very mild if any game spoilers but nothing related to major content or scenes Word Count: 900+ Notes: Inspired by this post here!

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Astarion talks in his sleep. It’s something you’ve never mentioned to him, because it’s mostly when he’s having a nightmare about Cazador or some other horrid trauma from his past. You'd quickly determined it not worth bringing up, for fear of embarrassing him. Plus, if you were being honest, part of you found it rather endearing... especially the lighter drabble that would escape his lips. Delighted giggles, little purrs... it could be overwhelmingly adorable, on occasion.

In fact, the first time you ever heard him say he loved you was in his sleep. Then you'd waited weeks… anxiously, impatiently, unbearably for the revelation to come out while he was awake, under his own terms.

But tonight, the talking and tossing isn't cute. The vampire writhing in bed disturbs you, and your eyes flutter open, catching the smallest glimpse of daylight between the thick, tightly drawn curtains and shuttered windows of your bedchamber. You'd just fallen asleep, and you'd be lying if you said you weren't the slightest bit annoyed.

You idly try to figure out the date. Adjusting your schedule to the night life was… difficult; you often lost track of dates nowadays. But somehow you manage to remember that it's been nearly six months since you all saved Baldur's Gate; six months since Astarion had been returned to a creature of the shadows. Six months you've been in the house provided by the city as you two adjust to whatever normalcy you are able to conjure up and figure out your next steps. You were a strong proponent for the Underdark; Astarion was not quite sold.

At first you think the silver-haired elf's tossing and turning is a night terror… it’s been nearly two weeks since the last one. He’s overdue. You ready yourself to pop out of bed and grab your calming herbs to steep a quick sleeping draught. But then you hear him, soft and garbled, laced with thick strings of sleep.

“Will you marry me?”

You turn to stare stupidly at the elf, eyes piercing through the blackness of your room; his face is obscured, you cannot tell if he’s awake. “…what did you say?”

Silence. A long, unbearable stretch of silence where your heart is pounding into your throat, practically rattling around your chest cavity at the sudden shock. And then he’s snoring again, and you’re left with your brow furrowed and robe half pulled onto your shoulder. Well, so much for your sleep.

You meander down the hall to the kitchen, where Shadowheart has several jars and plants strewn across the table. She’s practically taken over the kitchen since Gale left, not that you particularly mind, since she’s also taken over the cooking.

“Aren’t you supposed to be asleep right now?” She asks, spotting you out of the corner of her eye, not lifting her focus from the mortar and pestle in her hand.

“You won’t believe what Astarion just said in his sleep.” You murmur in dazed response, walking over to the cabinets and rummaging through the contents. You grab an old kettle and fill it with water, turning to look at the cleric.

“Gods, what was it? I’m quite thankful to be out of the camp... his night terrors woke all of us up at one point or another. It's no wonder you’re struggling with the schedule adjustment.”

“He said, ‘Will you marry me?’” You respond, almost giggling at how silly that sounds in retrospect, as you place the kettle on the stove.

Shadowheart pauses. One, two, three beats of silence. “Shit… well, I guess the cat is out of the bag now.” She murmurs with a shrug, before returning to grinding her herbs.

“Wh-what?!”

“Oh, come off, don’t be daft! You had to expect it would be coming sooner or later. Gods, your love is almost sickening… it was sickening, having to hear it all the time... once again, so thankful for the separation of these walls.”

You are frozen, your hand still holding onto the kettle as you appraise your friend. Shadowheart is right. You knew a proposal would come sooner or later… you just figured it would be much later. Astarion was still struggling; more often than not you woke to him in tears or in the throes of a sleeping fit. Countless calming elixirs and teas had been drawn up by you and Shadowheart in the last six months. Truly, you hadn’t thought he was thinking that deeply about it... you hadn't been, if at all. Gods, you two still didn't even know where you were headed after leaving this city-supplied house... the lease was up in a few weeks' time.

“I guess… well, I suppose I didn’t think he was ready.” You sigh, lighting the stove and sitting across the table, watching the cleric as she works.

“Oh, trust me, he’s ready. And he's certain. Perhaps not about anything else... but definitely about this. He's been writing to Gale for weeks trying to source a particular ring." Shadowheart responds, now pouring the contents of her grinder into pouches. "Just promise you'll act like it's a surprise when the time comes... he's been talking about it for a while. He's put a lot of thought into things."

"When will it be?"

Shadowheart laughs, the edges of her eyes crinkling as she flicks her gaze toward the ceiling. She’s now cinching the sachets and sorting them all into a nearby basket. "Now that I'm not telling you. I've already given away too much."

You try for a few more minutes to pry the information from your friend, but she remains tight-lipped. You even threaten her with detect thoughts, though you both know you'd never go through with it. Finally, a whistle from the kettle beckons you back to the stovetop, and the conversation is halted as you ready your tea and aim to go back to bed. You might not know when your love is going to pop the question, but you do know that when the time comes, your answer will be a resounding yes.

Click here for Part 2

#astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x tav #baulders gate 3 #baulders gate astarion #baulders gate tav #bg3 fanfic idea #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fluff #astarion fluff #astarion x gender neutral reader #astarion x reader #astarion x you #bg3 fic #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 imagines #astarion imagines #i feel like shadowheart would be my best friend IRL

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y-rhywbeth2 · 5 months

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Gods and Clergy: Bhaal

Link: Disclaimer regarding D&D "canon" & Index [tldr: D&D lore is a giant conflicting mess. Larian's lore is also a conflicting mess. You learn to take what you want and leave the rest]

I'm in a Durge and Orin mood, so we're getting the full details on Bhaal and his priesthood now. Fun fact, did you know the Dark Urge couldn't even die without Daddy's permission?

Featuring:

Intro: Do you realise this cult is basically a crime syndicate supported by the rich and powerful?

Priests: Hierarchy. Responsibilities. Murder. I rather like the ceremonial regalia, personally.

Deathstalkers: Teleporting! Killing people with your mind! Unlimited ressurections courtesy of Bhaal!! And yet more crazy shit!

Bhaal: Kitten thinks of nothing but murder all day. Also mortal backstory and the Slayer is absolutely nothing like the games depict it

Right then, "Bhaal awaits thee," and blah.

"Make all folk fear Bhaal. Let your killings be especially elegant, or grisly, or seem easy so that those observing them are awed or terrified. Tell folk that gold proffered to the church can make the Lord of Murder overlook them for today." - Bhaal's Dogma

Unsurprisingly for an ex-assassin, Bhaal is the patron god of assassins. Assassins, mercenaries, bounty hunters who aren't bringing their quarry in alive and, presumably, executioners all tend to send a prayer to Bhaal for success. Faithful were called Bhaalyn in the East and Bhaalists in the West. As BG3 takes place in Western Faerûn we'll use the latter.

Amongst these assassin worshippers we find the oh-so healthy individuals for whom killing is more than a job. These killers who regard their murders as a "pastime and a duty" join the clergy.

That said, Bhaalists do not murder indiscriminately. The taking of another life is a holy act, a lot of thought and planning goes into both the kill itself as well as what impact the death may have upon the world. Once the target is slain, they are to smear the victim's blood over their hands and draw Bhaal's symbol by the body with it. If Bhaal is pleased then the blood will vanish.

Bhaal supports and encourages his followers attaining wealth and comfort (it's a good hook to draw them in, and it makes him look good if his followers are successful), and in exchange for their worship his priest-assassins receive the priest spells and administer to the lay worshippers, who benefit second-hand. The assassins have an easier time killing people and getting rich and Bhaal profits from more prayer and death. A win for everyone (who didn't die in the process).

Bhaalist temples historically have spent their time founding and sponsoring guilds of assassins and thieves, including infamous organisations such as the Shadow Thieves of Amn. These guilds survived their patron's death, and while they were mostly businesses throughout the years of Bhaal's death many still paid homage (although there was some confusion involving his replacement, Cyric) and have presumably resumed worship. There's a massive old temple still functioning over in Thay; the Tower of Swift Death, and the assassins work closely with the Red Wizards who rule the country.

Bhaalists have no tolerance for rival guilds and organisations not following Bhaal (which would make them independent of their control) and will eliminate them. They will also root out anybody in the area that will attempt to oppose or otherwise interfere in their business and ensure they have freedom to go about their jobs/worship.

Their other job is to ensure the church has a steady income. They terrorise the commoners into paying tithes in exchange for safety from being sacrificed this tenday (a protection racket, basically) while leaving "economically and socially important individuals live unharmed." I mean, the peasantry have far less enemies to assassinate and gold to spend, so. Plus the rich and powerful are brilliant at turning a blind eye to crime when it benefits them, as well as making sure the evidence never sees the light of day - know which side your bread is buttered on, and all. Baldur's Gate has no law against the worship of Bhaal. Why do you think the original temple exists, after all? Bhaalists actively seek out and sway such potential patrons who would be... amenable to sponsoring and protecting their technically-legal church and its not so-legal activities in exchange for their services.

Urban temples of Bhaal are usually dark, subterranean affairs built under the city streets, containing countless branching tombs that are home to the bodies of the clergy's victims - said victims are usually wandering around down there as restless undead.

Bhaal's clergy can be recognised as Bhaalists by their ceremonial robes - full body robes of black or deep purple with a deep cowl. The robes will be randomly and violently streaked with flashes of violet. Their entire face is fully obscured by a black veil, to both hide their identity and make it appear as though the hood is empty for the intimidation factor.

The leader of the church in an area is the High Primate/Primistress, who can be identified by a red belt/sash they wear over their robes and the fancy curved ceremonial dagger that marks them as a high ranking priest and a specialty priest known as a Deathstalker - more about them in a moment.

High Primates spent much of their time planning the proper strategies of manipulating nearby rulers, inhabitants, and organizations into the deeds and behaviour that the Bhaalyn desired.

The High Primate is directly served by the First Deaths, who in turn can call upon a council of the nine most senior clergy; the Cowled Deaths. Below them were the regular priests, who were known collectively as the Deathdealers and are referred to by the title Slaying Hand. A Bhaalist rises in the ranks by hunting and ritually killing a target with nothing but their bare hands, which they will then report to a higher ranking priest who will confirm that they are being truthful. If they are then there's a party, and a ritual sacrifice is held to celebrate.

When on a job they dress in black - in the form that suits whatever their preferred method of killing in. Leather armour, mage robes, whatever.

Bhaalists pray to their god before sleep. In the temple the entire congregation comes together to pray in a formal ceremony called "Day's Farewell"). Bhaalists are also to pray before setting out on a murder.

Bhaalists only observe one holy day. It's the Feast of the Moon, a continent-wide holiday for honouring the dead and honouring one's ancestors. Bhaalists have their own spin on it where they remember dead Bhaalists and celebrate with stories of murder to honour them.

All Bhaalists are to commit a murder every tenday at midnight, should they be unable to fulfil this duty then they are to kill two people in place of the one who should've died that day. Before the victim dies, the murderer is to ensure that they know their killer and that they died as a sacrifice to the God of Death; "Bhaal awaits thee, Bhaal embraces thee, none escape Bhaal."

The specialty priests of Bhaal, those who dedicate their devotion and worship no god other than him, are the Deathstalkers.

One does not have to be a cleric to join the ranks, though the majority are. Rogues, rangers, barbarians and fighters are the most common, but all classes make an appearance (and most are multiclassed clerics)

To become a Deathstalker one must have murdered sixteen sapient creatures in sixteen different methods with sixteen different weapons. This presumably is also the rite of passage to becoming a member of the Brethren of the Keen Strike - an order of Bhaalist assassins to which all Deathstalkers belong.

Distressingly for people who aren't Bhaalist, Bhaal's Deathstalkers regained their Bhaalist abilities around 1372 DR, following the end of the Bhaalspawn Crisis, and resumed their duties, spreading death and terror in his name as they worked to bring him back to full power. The most popular argument for how the priests of a dead deity were getting their spells is that another god - likely Cyric, was granting them spells disguised as Bhaal. However, in the wake of the Bhaalspawn Crisis and the wave of fear felt towards Bhaal that resulted (which counts as prayer), the rumour mill became very fond of the idea that, despite how the crisis ended, Bhaal had still managed to resurrect at least some scrap of himself through that fear and the God of Murder was haunting the Realms once more.

The various abilities Bhaal gifts to his Deathstalkers include the following:

[From 3.5e] The ability to identify key weaknesses in a target by studying them for only a few moments, killing them in a single strike. They are also supernaturally good at stabbing people with their ceremonial daggers.

[3.5e] The ability to tap into the hatred of a person, stoking it into homicidal rage and direct it at another person who they will kill in a mindless bloody rage (also called the Urge to Slay, an ability Bhaal himself has)

[3.5e] Bhaal's own inability to just fucking stay dead - a Deathstalker Bhaal doesn't want dead will come back to life an hour after it is killed, with a single hit point left. During the time prior to resurrection they are an actual corpse.

[2e] They can point at a person, sending necrotic energy coursing through them and causing them significant damage, agony and possibly death.

[2e] They can inflict severe wounds on a person just by thinking it.

[2e] They can teleport! A Deathstalker can teleport themselves (and other people, if they're powerful enough) to the Throne of Blood and from there they can teleport to anywhere on Toril that isn't protected by warding magic. Bhaal won't do anything to protect Deathstalkers while they're in the Lower Planes - if you're strong enough to get yourself here, you're strong enough to get yourself out.

[2e] They can affect the emotions of those around them, reversing whatever emotions an individual is feeling towards them into its polar opposite.

[2e] They can accelerate the entropic aging process of objects.

Bhaal himself is "violent, cruel and hateful at all times." Being in the presence of the living fills him with an overwhelming urge to kill and destroy. He presents himself as either on the verge of a violent rampage or cold and ruthlessly calculating depending on which suits the occasion best. A Lawful Evil deity, his domain is the Throne of Blood in the first layer of the Lower Plane of Gehenna (Khalas), part of Bane's domain (Banehold). Hilariously, not a single Baldurs Gate game has got this right. BG2:SoA claimed it was the Hells, BG2:ToB changed to the Abyss and, for some reason, BG3 has put it in the Grey Wastes.

Bhaal served Bane, and was in turn served by Loviatar (goddess of pain) and Talona (goddess of disease).

His holy symbol is the Circle of Tears; clue in the name, it's a skull surrounded by teardrops of blood forming a circle.

Bhaal rarely manifested in avatar form. When he did, his main avatar in urban areas was the Slayer, which was not a four armed scaly monster:

"The Slayer look[s] like a corpse with a feral face, [bloodless] skin, and deep lacerations that endlessly [weep] black ichor that vanish[es] before it strikes anything."

It makes no noise at all when it moves. it can talk (its softly spoken and sounds creepy). It can levitate at will and summon floating daggers made of bone, that appeared and disappeared at will. They would cause any living flesh they hit to wither and die. Creatures slain this way would rise again as zombies under its control - or have its skeleton shattered into more bone daggers. Enough of these daggers form an area-of-effect; a wall made of a flurry of sharp shards of bone that would trap the soul of anyone they killed. Oh, yeah, and the Slayer can also inflict the overwhelming urge to murder everyone around you on the people around it.

Bhaal's other avatar was the Ravager, which was mostly an angry 30-foot tall giant with horns.

While in either avatar form, Bhaal also had the ability to create any form of undead loyal to him by touching a corpse (greater undead like vampires would be free once they'd completed whatever task he'd assigned them). He could also immediately destroy any undead, turning them to dust at a touch. Bhaal cannot be harmed by the undead.

Rather than using his avatars, Bhaal usually just manifested as a pair of flying undead hands that can shoot bone daggers at people. Or a laughing human skull trailing teardrops. Both these manifestations are capable of speech, casting darkness and driving everybody into a mindless bloodthirsty rampage - you might have noticed he really loves this trick.

He also invented his own undead monsters, the Harrla of Hate. Harrla are invisible creatures, which if you use magic to see them appear like human shaped wavering impressions. Guess what they do?? If you guessed "fill people with a sense of overpowering hatred and drive people into committing homicide" get yourself a fucking cookie!! (This isn't said anywhere in canon, but Bhaal has less imagination than a chunk of rock, I swear to god...)

According to one version of the story; in life Bhaal was a Netherese mortal wizard named Tharlagaunt Bale. He was one of a few hand picked by Jergal to bear a fragment of the god's divinity and raised from a young age to serve him (a Chosen, basically). Hilariously, one of the others was Karsus. These Chosen were promised godhood for their service as they set about performing a ritual to increase Jergal's waning power and make him one of the most powerful deities. Karsus chose to try and make himself a god instead and blew up the Weave, destroying Netheril and the plan and killing all of his coworkers except Bale.

Bale got a job as an assassin, changed the spelling to Bhaal and dropped his first name, teamed up with a bitter ex-slave with no name except the title "Bane of the Ancients" and a necromancer prince called Myrkul Bey al-Kursi.

His other backstory features him as Arabhal; the spymaster and chief assassin of the Netherese City of Rdiuz, and an ally of Bane. The two became unwitting paws of Jergal, who directed them through nightmares to do his bidding and slay various primordial divinities who threatened his plans.

Regardless of backstory, they all grabbed more divinity by killing an ancient god (also Bane's ex-master) and then he went knocking on his old boss' door for that godhood he was promised (Jergal at this point had embraced depression and just went "yeah, whatever, have it. Idgaf, I'm retiring." Or was manipulating them into becoming his divine pawns. There's more than one take on this story.) and Bhaal walked off the god of murder.

He learned of a prophecy predicting he would die when his stupid ex-travelling companions would decide to piss of Ao who would then kick all the gods out and make them mortal, and Bhaal then decided to sleep with what seems to be at least 25% of Faerûn to produce kids who would hold fragments of himself so that they could all fight to the death and he could resurrect himself afterwards. He was killed by the soon-to-be-god Cyric not far from Baldur's Gate during the Time of Troubles. Cyric proceeded to take his job, and there was a huge fight between Bhaalists who converted and those who didn't and the converts killed all the holdouts.

The rest of the backstory is basically just the original Baldur's Gate games.

#Durge is basically a crime boss #Also; Bhaal please have more than one fucking idea for once in your fucking miserable life I AM BEGGING YOU #dark urge #orin the red #long post #bg3 #durge #the dark urge #baldurs gate 3

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liminal-space-lesbian · 2 months

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Bg3 Ladies needing comfort after a bad day

Request: So for the BG3 headcanon or blurb requests what about a little thingy where the Lady’s of the game have a bad day and need lots of comfort from their Tav. 🥺

A/n

Honestly idgaf if Lae’zel is ooc, my baby is secretly going soft. Sorry guys!! I believe she actually has feelings deep down <3 Also mild spoilers if you haven’t finished the Crèche questline

Also Karlach is so babygirl omg if someone doesn’t give her a hug rn I SWEARRRR

Karlach:

Karlach had spent the entire day fighting off various enemies, who were unfortunately harder to defeat than expected. And right as she’s settling down for the night, finally getting a reprieve from the day, Raphael shows up.

He’s yammering on about how he wants to strike up a deal with you, but you cannot send him away fast enough. Seeing a devil only dredges up bad memories for your lover, and you do not want her to have to relieve the memories of her torture in Avernus.

“Come here baby, it’s alright just try to relax.” You coax, seeing the tension in her body once Raphael leaves. You coo, gently taking her into your arms. Her head buried in your chest, strong arms wrapping around you tightly as you rub her shoulders and the back of her neck. You ease the tension out of her muscles, kissing the crown of her head.

She finally lets the tension leave her body as she breaks down into tears, quietly crying into the fabric of your shirt. Small sobs wrack her shoulders, sending an aching pain lancing through your heart. You can’t stand seeing her so upset.

“I fuckin’ hate demons. No good ever comes of ‘em. Promise me you’ll never even consider Raphael’s deal.” She pleads, and you’re quick to reassure her. “I promise, I’ll never make a deal with a devil. I love you too much to risk it.” You whisper into her hair as you place a gentle kiss on her temple.

You cuddle her to sleep, allowing her to wrap herself around you entirely. Lord knows a decade of not being able to touch anyone without scorching their skin off leaves a girl touch starved. You tuck her in as cozy as she can get, and pepper her face with gentle kisses as she drifts off. Your heart aches for the suffering your lover has endured, but all you can do is be here now to support her.

Shadowheart:

Shadowhearts wound on her hand had been flaring rather badly all day, and unfortunately you had to travel past an abandoned temple of Shar. All the memories- or lack thereof- cause Shadowheart’s mood to sour. She seems snappy and short tempered, but when you visit her tent later you see her curled into a ball and cradling her hand.

“Oh sweetheart.” You murmur, getting on your knees beside her, resting a hand on her shoulder. She sniffles, obviously trying to hide her tears. You shush her, gently lying behind her and wrapping your arms around her. She rolls over and cuddles into your chest, crying more freely now.

“Why did they have to take my memories? Sometimes I don’t even feel like I know myself.” She whimpers, and your heart shatters. “Oh baby, I’m so sorry.” You whisper, kissing her forehead and wiping away her tears. “I know you, and I love you.” You murmur, rubbing your hand soothingly up and down her back as she tucks her head into your neck. You spend the evening wiping away her tears and soothing her as best as you can.

Lae’zel:

Lae’zel doesn’t get upset, she gets angry. It’s how she was raised, channel every feeling into anger. Anger fuels strength, and only created a stronger more tenacious fighter. So when Lae’zel finds out the truth about Vlaakith, she’s angry. Enraged. Furious. Not hurt.

Lae’zel definitely doesn’t cry when she’s alone in her tent that night. She also definitely doesn’t crawl into your arms and bury her face in your shoulder. Your touch is the only balm to the aching in her chest.

“Tsk’va, look at me. So weakened by the betrayal of a false god.” Lae’zel grits out between tears, fists clenched firmly in your shirt. Her anger is directed at herself, as if it’s her fault she was fooled along with every other Gith.

“Darling, it’s not your fault. Vlaakith tricked everyone. I know her betrayal hurts, and you have a right to be upset. Im so sorry you have to deal with something like this.” You coo, kissing her forehead and wiping her tears. She scowls and pulls away from your touch, but only to roll over so she can be little spoon.

She doesn’t speak for the rest of the night, but you feel a bit of tension melt away from her muscles. The next morning she’ll wake as if nothing happened, but for now she burrows farther into your warmth, seeking your comfort.

Dame Aylin:

Aylin’s mood took a turn for the worse when she heard Raphael had proposed a deal to you at Sharess Caress. She had already spent the day overstimulated from the noise of Baldurs Gate, a stark contrast to a century in shadowfell, where the only sound was the wind and rumbling in the distance. Now that you told her this? She was pissed.

She stomped off to be alone, saying she just needed time to think. You could tell by the stiffness of her posture she was upset, more than just angry. You gave her some space, but when she finally returned to your tent to go to sleep, you confronted her.

“What’s wrong darling?” You coax, your expression soft as you open your arms for her. She hesitates, her pride and stoicism holding her back for a moment. Her hesitation is short lived however, as she heaves a sigh and flops into your arms.

“I’m just thinking of my time spent in shadowfell. Raphael is a devil, simply a reminder of the evils in this world.” She pauses, heaving an irritated sigh. “After being trapped in that soul cage for so long… sometimes it feels as though I’m still there. Not physically but… in my mind that place haunts me.” She admits quietly, and you think you hear her voice quiver.

“I’m sorry Aylin. You didn’t deserve that. If I could take away all your pain I would.” You murmur, hugging her a bit tighter as you look in her eyes. You see tears clinging to her lashes as she swallows thickly.

“I know you would. And I love you for it.” She whispers brokenly, nuzzling her head into your shoulder as she clings to you. She pulls away to place a deep kiss on your lips, reveling in the comfort of you.

“Try and rest Aylin, you need sleep.” You coax, easing her to lie back. She complies, allowing herself to get comfortable as she slips off to sleep. For the first time in weeks she doesn’t have a single nightmare.

Isobel Thorm:

Isobel was drained after narrowly escaping being kidnapped by Marcus. She pumped all of her magical abilities into the shield around the Last Light Inn, as well as blessing you and your companions to ward off the shadow curse.

You could see her bottom lip quiver as she climbed into bed, and she instantly cuddled into your side. You turned towards her, gently cupping her face in your hands.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask gently, and she simply shakes her head, blinking heavily as tears flow freely down her face. You brush the tears away with your thumbs, nodding as you kiss her forehead. You take her into your arms and let her cry it out.

You rub up and down her arms soothingly, allowing her the space to let out her feelings. Eventually her cries taper out, and soon enough she’s drifting off to sleep. You carefully make sure she’s tucked in perfectly before resuming your spot, cuddled up to her for the night.

A/n

If this is bad it’s bc I’ve been awake for 17 hours, sorry peeps 😔

#bg3 requests #bg3 #bg3 karlach #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 lae'zel #bg3 dame aylin #bg3 isobel #dame aylin x reader #isobel thorm x reader #isobel x reader #karlach x reader #shadowheart x reader #lae’zel x reader #fem reader #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending

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pursuitseternal · 16 days

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Secrets and Sensuality in Chapter 3 of “A Night with the Ascendant”

Ascended Astarion x Spawn (Lumina) | E | 2.8K

🎨 by @snowfolly

Summary: Lumina confronts Lord Astarion about the sudden change in her abilities. She only finds more questions and a stronger curiosity over her possessive, obsessive Master who distracts her the best way he knows… in his bed.

CW: half-truths, smut as distraction, sneaky (not)-spawn Lumina, BG3 game references, No Tav, dom/sub dynamics, oral sex, throat fucking (that kind where she’s upside down off the bed).

Previous Ch | ao3 link | Masterlist

Chapter 3…

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

“What happened?” Lumina asked, direct but softly as he let her in through their conjoining door.

“Good morning, my little mistress,” Astarion smirked down at her, looming over her for a moment too long before he stepped back to allow her inside. “It seems to be a beautiful day out,” he flashed her a devilish smirk as she drew to a stop in the patches of sun spilling from his windows.

“What… happened?” she just repeated. Oh, she was good, he assessed. Eyes downcast, and hands clasped softly, but the tension in her shoulders and jaw, that hard press of her voice in her throat…. He could tell she was nearly ready to scream.

He looked at his nails, perfectly manicured, keeping his eye from her diverted, if furious, scarlet stare. “You mean what gives you the power as a spawn of mine to stand in the sun… to feel so strong and powerful?” He glanced up sharply to watch her give a single nod. Controlled and suppressed, daring of her. “Simple, it is I who give you that power… it’s because of my generosity and favoritism towards you. No others will call those powers their own…” he lowered his hand, half of a bow to her in mock deference. “They are yours alone, my treasure, because you are mine.”

Lumina drew her little frame to its full height, still only reaching her face to his neck. “That may be, my lord, my love, but I know magic when I feel it.”

“My dear, my very existence is magic,” he swept his arms wide. “And you, blessed you, are the only one to share in a mere sliver of that magic.” He reached for her jaw, cradling it to draw her face even closer to his own. “Let that answer be good enough for you, my mistress,” he breathed, his words sweet in tone but exacting as a command. “I would give you anything to make you happy… the world, my own essence, my magic… to keep you as mine.” I pulled her forward and ordered her, “Kiss me.”

Lips devoured hers, fangs clacking on her own, his kiss branded her mouth and flooded her senses. But her mind still raced, seeking out those tendrils of his power that usually accompanied his orders. But they never came. She sequestered away that observation as she soon grew lost in his taste and touch that permeated every following coherent thought. Her body lifted into the air, cradled in his arms to then be rested gently in those silken sheets across his familiar bed.

No more thoughts crossed her mind, not as he hiked up her skirts and his cock slid into her, that scent of his skin, of perfume and sweat and sex intoxicating her. More, she needed more after being at such a great distance from her heart’s desire for so long before this. His voice hissed into her ear, lustful words that made her quake with need. “My little mistress, my little treat to savour, all flushed now and hot for me…”

Lumina groaned, her body indeed on fire now, pinned and naked for their pleasure. “Yes, gods yes…” she groaned as he filled.

“Much more to me than a plaything, than some spawn,” he continued. “So much more…”

Limbs hummed and clung to his frame as he began to slowly thrust in and out, that devilishly tempting pace she had grown addicted to. “But you seem to be having… fun, my lord.”

He chuckled deep in his throat, the vibrations passing into her own skull it seemed. “I am… it’s hard not to with you, my Little Light.”

She rewarded that with a kiss, a never ending tangle of tongues and gnashing of fangs that stole her breath. Lost was the end of her body and the beginning of his—he was everywhere all at once, as if his presence raged in her very veins.

Pleasure swept her away, time after time, round after round as he had savored her affections before his journey. And in the end, even in the pooling sunlight of the afternoon, she ended the same—resting semi-conscious and sweetly smiling in his bed. The last sensation she recalled were his smoothe, dexterous fingers brushing through her straw-golden locks.

Then she rested.

The sun had risen high by the time Lumina stirred. She stretched her aching muscles, looking out the open window to see the City bathed in the sun, to hear the voices of life whining in the distance from beyond the place walls. She stood, scanning his rooms to find herself alone. It was such a bright and airy chamber, it stole her breath, never having witnessed it during the day… before…

…before whatever it was that had given her this power to stand in the sun and not char to a crisp.

Crystal chandeliers gave off sparkles of light, the brilliant hues of leather covers dotting the room in a prism of colors. Such decadence and luxury and beauty.

Just like him.

But as her wits finally returned, as the allure of his sensuality faded, Lumina couldn’t push away those suspicions anymore.

What had she become… what did he do to her, this gift of being made his mistress. What did it all mean?

Perhaps, he hadn’t meant for her to wake up alone, perhaps this was a chance.

And, from what she knew in life, urchin wretches like her had to take their chances.

On silent feet, she scrutinized his room, those sharp eyes that could find any object out of the ordinary, the keen sense she had honed as an indentured servant, a slave to a brute of man, came back raging full force as she looked for… anything.

She scanned his vanity, nothing out of the ordinary, kohl for his eyes and bits of fine jewelry, a basket of rings, a collection of scents and oils for his body and hair. Just looking at them made her smell his scent in her nose.

It made her salivate and grow insanely wet between…

No, no. She had to keep searching.

Shelves, lined with books upon books, cast some of the only shadows in his room at this time of day. Tidy and cared-for, well-loved and organized. Each stack held different topics—botany and necromancy, the magic of Karsus, the history of Avernus, the legend of the Blade of Frontiers, and Sharan worship… such a unique collection of topics, she observed.

But something drew her notice… a smaller bound leather journal wrapped tightly in its own little bindings. Glancing at the door, she pulled this one from the shelves. Nervousness shook her hands.

Surely… he had been so generous before, letting her choose any book at whim. Even if this was a journal, not a book per se.

Opening the cover, it was written in a tight and exact hand. Each page was speckled with regular updates, lists of quests and questions… Observations of Illithids and healers, Tieflings and Goblins in the… Emerald Grove… little notes about individuals… the Daughter of Darkness… the Wizard of Waterdeep…

Lumina paused. Titles that rang some bell in her head about the history of Baldur’s Gate. Her mind whizzed through the stories, accounts from the history books told by the actors themselves. The heroes.

Finally her eyes settled on one list of notes on the Pale Elf….

“Astarion…” she breathed into the silence, “the Saviours of Baldur’s Gate.”

She sat down with the journal, pouring over it as she settled cross-legged on the floor. So many details and intricacies and trials and tribulations, stated so matter of factly… words flew by her in a flash, she couldn’t devour the notes fast enough. They were fables, tales from two centuries ago, the literal stuff of legends—those six companions and their tadpoles who brought down the Dead Three and the plot of the Absolute.

She could feel her heart racing, the account of Astarion, a slave and spawn, seeking vengeance against his tormentor and master, taking his power, taking for himself everything that was so long denied to him.

Her heart could burst… from pride in him, from envy for a story not unlike her own. For as much as those in the Upper and Lower Cities whisper about the Ascendant as ruthless, a monster… a villain. For all of that, he was her hero.

Astarion, her dark saviour, scooping her from the darkness to give her light… sent to sweep her off to his palace, giving her a place where she belonged.

With a sigh, she lost herself tin that feeling, her fingers tracing over the worn vellum pages in a sort of bliss….

“Little Light, whatever could be the matter?” his voice purred from above her. Glancing up, he towered from behind, his elegantly stitched trousers hugged his muscles. The ivory of its silk let all the heat of his body radiate against her back. “Why ever are you on the floor?” He leaned closer, his breath seeping into the mussed curls of her pale blonde hair. “And what have you… found?”

His voice dropped from that sultry velvet of a purr to something deeper. A growl.

Lumina gave a radiant smile from the floor at his feet. “Oh, just a uniquely scribbled little journal from two-centuries ago…”

A slow roll of a laugh drew closer as he crouched beside her, deftly his fingers grabbed the journal from her hands and tossed it across the room. “You should forget what you have read, my love. Ancient records of people long gone, names all but faded from history and time, mouldering graves and dusty bones…”

Her nose wrinkled at him, her pale brows furrowed. “Not you, not the Pale Elf…”

The scowl on his face silenced her faster than if he had smacked her across her cheek. “You will not call me that,” he snapped on each word. Grabbing her by the arm, he dragged her to her feet before him to stop at the edge of his bed.

“I… I thought it would be acceptable to look through your books as you have allowed me to before…”

He laughed, low and quiet. Dangerous. “I leave you alone, my lovely little mistress for an hour or so, and you’ve gone and pried into things you shouldn’t have,” he hissed, bringing his lips right to her ear and nipping the soft flesh of its lobe. “Cheeky little pup. I’ll have to do something about it, like punish you.”

“P-punish?”

“Oh, no, nothing you won’t also enjoy, I’m sure,” he led her towards his bed, his hand wrapped firmly around her arm, touch hot through the silk sleeve of her dress. “After all, I am enamored of your spirit, your brilliance and sneakiness… but…”

He looked down on her, slowly slinking closer and closer until she butted against the edge of his bed. Instincts roared at her, she placed a hand on the thin fabric of his shirt and teased her fingers into the deep cut that ran down his chest. “If you want to play, all you have to do is ask. I don’t require threats of punishment to… be a good girl for you, my love.”

His grin spread like a shadow, silent and creeping, to twist his face. Lurching forward, he closed in on her, hands braced on the edge of the bed as she flopped down on her butt, almost bouncing on it. His smirk was elegant and dangerous. Just like him. “What a good little mistress you are… I’ll reward you for your spirit then, but I will remind you that I am no hero, Lumina. The man you read recorded in that journal is dead, along with all those other unfortunates…”

Those soft scarlet eyes reflected up at him, a sadness behind the shine of her lust. She licked her ruby lips and let a single fang bite into that pouting expression. Devotion incarnate, he grinned.

So many words filled her thoughts as she looked up at him. So many questions, all of them rooted deeply in her admiration for him and in the profound sadness she knew she saw behind his steely gaze. But every word, she swallowed down for now, parting her lips instead and pulling him by his collar to kiss her.

Devouring, consuming, his lips stole her air from her lungs and senses right from her mind. All she was now was need and desire, a whimper breaking from her throat as he pulled from her kiss all too soon. His look was pure lust, dark desire as he twirled his finger at her. An order to turn around. Obeying, she turned her back to him as she sat near the edge of the bed.

His breath was hot in her ear as he whispered against it. “Lie down, Little Light, and do try not to gag….”

Eyes shot wide, Lumina shivered as she scooted further into the center of the bed, laying on her back up at where he stood over her. His smile flashed at her upside down as she was, all the more thrilling and slightly sinister as she felt disoriented. Hands gripped under her arms and slid her just right, making her head hang off the ledge.

Her world practically spun, watching his fingers unlacing his breeches, that thick, hard, and veiny cock releasing from within to hang its shadow over her face. Fingers curled deftly around his shaft, stroking him harder, the other hand thrust a thumb inside her mouth to pull her jaw open gently. She could help but smile as his fingers stroked under her chin, that pink head of his cock slowly sweeping into her mouth and down her throat.

The undead beat of her heart pounded harder, already she could feel a light headed tingle as she felt him pull out slowly and thrust back in. Deeper this time. She laughed around his cock, feeling it twitching in her mouth as the vibrations tickled him.

Hips slowly pistoned back and forth. Every thrust sent the front of his hips to press against the top of her head, flooding her nose with the musk of his arousal. Lumina closed her eyes, keeping herself lost in the feeling of his cock in her mouth and his hands wandering over her neck and into her dress. Fingers latched around a breast, Astarion squeezed as he began to thrust harder into her mouth, leveraging his movements on that swaying fullness in her dress.

“Swallow around me,” he growled, “let me feel how hungry you are for your reward, even when you’ve been rather willful.”

She obeyed, her throat closing around his thrusts for a moment. A new magic pooled inside her mind and went taught, as if something was struggling to make itself known. A growl in his throat, and he just fucked her faster. “See, my naughty little minx, I am not some hero. A rake, a monster to some, a lover and master to you, Little Lumina….” He clawed his nails into her flesh, one around her breast, the other into the side of her throat where he gripped her now.

She needed to swallow again, drool running up her cheek as she hung suspended for his pleasure. A clutch of his fingers hard on her nipple, and she moaned with full voice. Suddenly, she tasted him, that sweet, warm bitterness that she knew so well filled her throat. As he groaned loudly over her, hands clawed hard into her skin, she felt a snap in her mind… images of Astarion, dressed in armor, blood spattered and beautiful, two daggers in hand as he tore through enemies…

She opened her eyes as he pulled his cock from her lips, letting a trail of cum dribble up her face. He stroked his finger through it, caressing her cheek. Palm at the back of her shoulder, he rolled her over and raised her up to his smirking mouth with two fingers under her chin. “Now…”

But she placed a hand on his lips to quietly hush him. “My love,” she whispered, looking up at him through her lashes. “You don’t have to be a hero to the City, or to the world, or in memory of anyone you lost. But you should know… you are a hero to me. You pulled me from a fate worse than death by giving me undeath.” She kissed his lips softly,”I will forever be thankful for that, my lord.”

His lips were frozen as she worked hers feverishly. Pulling away from her, he quickly stuffed his cock back into his trousers to run a hand through his hair. “I’ll see you tonight for dinner, my darling.” He tried to return to that velvety tone in his voice, that confident swagger in his stride, but he nearly choked and nearly laid himself out flat prone on the ground. “Be in the dining room sharply for me…”

With that, the door shut behind him. And Lumina was left perching on his bed, with more questions than answers and with a new tingling sensation in her mind.

It was different than his tendrils of compelling, brighter and stronger, a bridge and not a leash.

Perhaps… something would help her find the answer to what sort of magic he must have done to her. Whatever it was that gave her strength to endure sunlight, awareness to sense his innermost thoughts. Somewhere here… he must have the answer to his secrets. She just had to find them.

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sisterofsomeone · 2 months

Text

Till Death Do Us Part

Chapter 1/?

Summary: On a wedding day in Baldur’s Gate, a marriage is sealed with a sanctified bond. A powerful magic that allows your minds to meld and cannot ever be undone. It is also required to share your darkest secret for the bond to be bestowed. There is a common myth passed around that once, a very long time ago, a woman was tricked into marriage by a demon of sorts and only found out when they wed. Every wedding at that moment the room falls silent, waiting for another scream, another myth making secret to be revealed. You just never thought you would be witness to it.

Series Warnings: Wonwoo x fem!reader, slight Seokmin x fem!reader (because I can't help myself), established relationship/situationship, angst, fluff, swearing, drinking, smoking, there are references to end game BG3 and spoilers for the whole game so please proceed with caution! smut MDNI 18+, unprotected sex, pet names (baby girl, pretty girl, princess), oral sex (male and female receiving), breeding kink, slight daddy kink, size kink, reader has a vagina that gets described as a pussy/cunt, slight dub-con for a second then clear consent, (more will be added as the series goes on!)

Word count: 3.5K

Author's note: Hello again! I was originally going to write this as a oneshot, but I just kept writing and writing and felt that I really wanted to try and flesh this world out. So, it's becoming a series! I cannot promise regular updates as I am in my final year of university, and start back up at my graduate job in september, but I am really enjoying writing this so I'm aiming for at least once a month, but maybe more. I do also have another series in the works which I want to post soon as well, so keep on the lookout for that one! I’ve never written anything like this before so bear with me if it’s not very good! Please enjoy, I really do hope this is entertaining for you, and have a wonderful day/afternoon/evening! Lots of love, Caitlin <3

This is a work of fiction and in no way is meant to represent the actions, ideals, or attitude of the idol Jeon Wonwoo.

Baldur’s Gate. The jewel of the Sword Coast. Granted, you never knew there was supposedly a dragon sleeping under the city before the invasion, but still. A wonderful place to live. Life here was easier for someone like you, the eldest daughter of the Apothecary Merchant. Father had spent most of the money he made to dress you in the finest of clothes, hire chefs to teach you to make the finest of meals, and ensure you were surrounded by the best trained ladies in waiting possible. Status meant everything to him, and you knew you had to marry up to please him. Being the eldest of three girls, you were schooled in house making, cooking, mathematics, business, politics- anything and everything that would endear you to one of the knowledgeable and wealthy bachelors your father was hoping to wed you to. Your younger sisters however were afforded the luxury to follow their throws of passion and learn dance, music, or geography to teach and travel. You didn’t much care for home making, your fascination with the foul words in other languages usually left your tutor giggling after you begged her to teach you them. You were smart, quick with numbers and well versed in politics and business. It was something your father loved about you. The daughter that would lift them even higher in status. You were his political pawn.

You were with your mathematics tutor when she burst through the door. Your mother, her face flushed, chest rising and falling rapidly with her heavy breaths.

“The- The King wants you to attend the ball.” She spoke. “The ball for the princes to choose their brides. He has called for you specifically.”

“Oh?” You didn’t so much as look away from your work, still toying away with the problems in front of you.

“Yes! Oh Gods girl, what are we to do with you?” Your tutor excused himself as your mother swanned towards the large windows. She was as dramatic a woman as you had ever met, and you loved her for it. Turning to face you, her dress billowed, and it struck you yet again how beautiful she was. You knew she used to be the catch; the young daughter of a cattle farmer swept into the Sword Coast by her wild fancies and taking Baldur’s Gate by storm. She married your father in a rather quickly arranged match, both being only 21 and your bump already starting to show through her clothes. She had always held a special place in your life, and the closeness in age only solidified your bond.

“You’re to help me avoid it. You know I want nothing to do with the royal family.” You raised an eyebrow, smirk playing on your lips as you turned another page in your book.

“It’s such a shame. You should go, if not for yourself but for me. It says and family and you know how much your sisters and I would love it!” Her fingers danced across the edge of the paper, twirling the red silk ribbon that used to hold the envelope closed as she read and reread the words.

“You know, there must be a specific reason they invited you. I heard only four girls and their families were invited specifically by name.” He voiced wavered, tone light, eyes meeting yours with that twinkle you knew meant trouble. Sometimes it felt like you were the parent in this.

“Will I need a new dress?” With that she squealed and swept you into her arms.

“Oh darling! You are going to love this!” Untangling her arms from around you she ran from the room and to the staircase.

“Girls! Darling! Come downstairs, your sister has an announcement!”

It was dark outside when you were finally allowed to rest. Your mother had dragged you and your sisters around every tailor in the city, eventually settling on a beautiful, glittered gown from the Facemaker’s that made it look like you were dripping in starlight. Your sisters marvelled at you, them seemingly more excited for your prospects than you were. As you stood before the full-length mirror, watching the way light danced across the dress you caught your own breath. You stood tall, the shimmering fabric laying against your body as if made solely for you. Your face now seemingly had the allure you always attributed to your mother, the colour of your eyes mirroring her own beautiful hue. It was the first time you felt a fraction as beautiful as her. That’s why you let your mother buy the dress, but you’d never tell her that.

The evening was warm as you took a book from the library and made your way to the balcony. Lighting the lamp on the table you slipped yourself onto the velvet covered seat and pulled the small blanket around your legs, hiking them up to your chest. It was here you sat, absorbed in the words of scholars until a small cough caught your attention. This was routine at this point, so you put your book down and pulled yourself from the seat, dangling a hand over the railing in front of you before leaning your head over. The man clasped your hand and smiled up at you.

It had all been an accident, you meeting Seokmin and Wonwoo. You weren’t supposed to be walking unescorted to Sorcerers’ Sundries, well technically you weren’t supposed to be walking there at all, but what Father didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. You had stopped but for a moment to watch the magic show at the front entrance when you felt a hand dip into your pockets. You grasped their wrist and turned, only to be met with a small child.

“I’m-I’m so sorry miss, please let me go.” The tiny tiefling looked terrified, eyes wide and lower lip trembling. Immediately you dropped your guard, gaze softening and grip on their arm loosening.

“Child, no need to be scared I won’t call the Fists. But let’s not go picking anymore pockets hm?” They nodded, thanking you as they scurried away. Thats when you heard the laughter. Two tall men, eyes dark and trained directly on you and the scurrying child.

“What are you two laughing at huh?” The slightly broader one cocked an eyebrow at you, and the other pointed behind you. There you saw the scared tiefling, not so scared anymore as them and their friend – who you hadn’t noticed until now – were poking their tongues out at you as they waved a purse above their heads.

“That’s mine!” You shouted as they hurried off, tails wagging and giggles filling the dark streets.

“You fell for that hook line and sinker.” One of the hooded men let a plume of smoke escape his lips and curled them into a smile. “Are you new here or something?”

“No, no. Look at her, she’s a sheltered little princess I bet.” The other said, closing the distance between you and him. You finally got a good look at him. Dark eyes, golden tanned skin, a smile spread across his face that lit a fire in your stomach. He leaned down, face now only inches from yours. “Such a sheltered little princess, aren’t you?” There was an earthiness to him, a woody smell that danced under a zesty citrus. This was no commoner’s perfume.

“Who are you?”

Wonwoo’s eyes shone from below you on the balcony, that same smile lighting that spark deep in your soul. He was intelligent, worldly, but most of all, he was kind. He climbed up the balcony as usual, pulling you into his embrace and kissing you. It was hot, fiery and passionate. It always felt like he was swallowing you whole, devouring every part of you. He pushed you backwards, lowering you into the plush of the loveseat as his body covered your own. His mouth never left yours, tongue playing against your bottom lip as you gave him entrance. He moaned, fingers running through your hair and pulling, revealing the length of your neck to him. He kissed down it, careful not to leave any marks as he did so.

“My beautiful girl, my pretty girl.” His lips left a searing trail down to your chest, his hands trailing down your sides, bunching up your dress to reach your core.

“Wonwoo, baby, we can’t. Not tonight.” It was almost useless, his lips never stopped working against your neck, teeth nipping at your pulse point. “Wonwoo, baby.” A whine left him that had a throb course through your body and set that flame burning.

“Don’t tell me to stop baby please.” He kissed you again, hands never stopping their assault on you. “Please don’t tell me I can’t play with my pretty girl’s pretty pussy.” His eyes darkened, teeth bit down harder, and you could almost feel the punctures from his canines.

“This pretty pussy has been invited to the King’s ball. This pretty pussy might have just been sold off by her ever-scheming father.” He stalled at this, hands stopping their assault and mouth leaving your skin.

“What?” His eyes were trained on yours as you swallowed thickly.

“We got the invitation today. Gods know how he did it. But he did.” Wonwoo moved off you, settling into the space beside you.

“Are you happy? With the idea I mean?” You let out a short laugh, cold and harsh.

“Happy? Why would I be happy? No one has ever seen them, been allowed near them, and what? I’m supposed to marry one of them. Be used as breeding stock. Finally put all this stupid training to use.” He laughed softly from beside you.

“You think this is funny? My life being sold off to the highest bidder and you laugh?”

“No! No, it’s not like that I promise.” His arms were around you again, pulling you into his chest. “I think there’s more to this than you know. Go to the party. You might be pleasantly surprised that’s all.” His lips were on yours again. “And no matter what happens, I’ll never let anyone else touch you the way I do.”

The morning broke through your curtains and the man beside you stirred. His chest was warm beneath your cheek as you kissed the arm draped around you.

“Darling, you must go before we get caught. Again.” He groaned, rolling the pair of you over, trapping you beneath him. That smile was back, softly lit by the warm glow of the sun pouring in through the windows. “Wonwoo, baby please.” His lips were soft against yours, pouring love into you like there was no tomorrow. His fingertips danced across your skin, raising goosebumps in their wake. He rolled his hips into you, want evident at the broken gasp that left his lips. “Wonwoo baby.” You moaned out, fingers moving to his shoulder blades. He rolled his hips again, the slickness of your cunt allowing for him to rock smoothly and bump his cockhead into your clit. “Wonwoo, we can’t.” But your body gives you away, the roll of your hips as you shake beneath him has him lining up instantly.

“Princess, say no right now and I won’t do it. But say yes and I’ll give you a baby. I’ll fuck you so full it has no option but to stick. You’ll be mine.” Your lips chased his as you nodded frantically against him.

“Yes Wonwoo, yes yes yes.” He pushed in, cock stretching you as you raked your nails down his back. His thrusts were deep, angling his hips to hit that spot inside of you.

“My princess wants a baby yeah? Wants me to fuck her full?” He growled into your ear, hips smashing into yours.

“Please, wanna make you a daddy.” You purred back. His hand snaked between your bodies, fingers rubbing circle after circle into your swollen clit as you arched up into him. He never stopped kissing you, never stopped whispering praise into your mouth as you came around him.

“Please Wonwoo, want you to fill me up. Please.” You dug your nails into his skin, drawing a hiss from him. He’s panting, sweat lining his forehead as he thrust into you again and again, bringing you to orgasm over and over until you couldn't take it anymore. He pushes you over the edge again and again, having you crying his name into his mouth over and over as you beg for him to finish in you, mark you as his.

But he doesn’t. He pulls out as he always does and finishes onto your thigh. It’s over then, the light shifting to a cold blue as the sun shifts behind a cloud. He moves away from you, gathering his clothes and dressing.

“When will I see you again?” He pauses, eyes meeting your own.

“You won’t see me like this for a while. At least, not this version of me.” You don’t know what that means, but he doesn’t give you any time to ask as he kisses you again so softly. His hand caresses your face, thumb rubbing your cheek as a tear falls from his face and onto yours. “But you will see me again, I promise.” As he pulls away, he places a final kiss on your forehead before stepping back towards your balcony. You let him go like you always do, but not without that horrible hole ripping through your chest.

The night of the ball drew closer, and there was no sign of Wonwoo or his brother. You were alone. The lessons ramped up, your father wanting there to be no chance of failure. You were his pawn, and he was so ready to make that final check. Your mother tried to get through the walls you put up, your sisters gushed every day about how lucky you were, how you were going to have the life of your dreams. But you weren’t. You wouldn’t be with Wonwoo. Wouldn’t be able to kiss him again, wouldn’t be able to hold him. You’d never be able to make him a dad.

“Your invitation madam?” Your mother was positively glowing with excitement, your sisters each hanging off one of your arms, you suspect to stop you from running. Your mother presents the invitation, and the guard cocks an eyebrow. “Please, this way for special guests.” You were escorted towards a separate entrance, a large pair of white wooden doors beset by giant boars on each side. The doors were parted for you, and the entrance was the most beautiful you’d ever seen. You were ushered inside, your sisters gasping and pointing at the artwork lining the walls. But your eyes were drawn to the three other girls.

“They’re your competition child.” Your father pulled you aside from your sisters and scanned you from head to toe. “But you’ve got a brain to best all of them. Be smart, be strong. Be the girl I raised you to be.” You glanced back over to them. Each one you knew to be a member of one of the aristocracies, as you were. You vaguely remember having a run in with the half-elf, but if she remembered you, she gave nothing away in the cold gaze she returned.

“If everyone is now here?” A voice sounded from the stairs above you. Your eyes followed where it was coming from, and the woman you saw standing there was the most beautiful you had ever seen. Dark eyes, with even darker hair cascading down her back that held soft curls that bounced as she began to walk towards you all. You had never seen this woman before, but something pulled at you from your stomach as if you recognised her.

“You are all chosen specifically by the princes themselves. My sister's sons wouldn’t allow for our intervention, so feel very lucky. Some of you would never have made it this far.” Her eyes fell on you at this, and your father bristled beside you. “Now, if you’ll follow me.” She sauntered towards the large doors across the marbled floors. You moved to follow the queen's sister, silently cursing yourself for not recognising her as your legs pulled you along before your brain could think of a reason to turn and run. She demanded that the girls line up, manhandling you all into a line with you left on the end. Your families were to follow along behind, and not say a word.

There was a commotion behind the doors, music filled whatever room you were about to be ushered into and laughter and conversations could barely be heard through these giant doors. You tried to smooth out the non-existent wrinkles of your dress, hands moving on their own as you chewed on your bottom lip.

There was a moment of silence before the doors swung open, and an even longer moment of silence when all the eyes in the ballroom fell upon you. Your gaze flitted from person to person, not a single face you couldn’t put a name to. Families with daughters much better suited for this match burned holes into your skull from jealousy. You were standing there, with the whole world at your fingertips and their daughter wasn’t.

You were ushered down the steps before you, the sea of people parting as the four of you made your ways forward. Your eyes were on the floor as you had been instructed to do so, never for a second daring to look upon the men sitting at the other end of the ballroom.

“This is the half-elf Carmae of the Boat Merchant.” You were right about recognising her then.

“This is the high elf Dauphine of the Gold Merchant.” You heard her light steps, the small “Hello sirs.” that sounded so beautiful falling from her lips as she greeted the men.

“This is the wood elf Avalynne of the Cloth Merchant.” You were next.

“This is the human Y/n of the Apothecary Merchant.” You stepped forward, curtseying as you were taught, eyes moving up to acknowledge the men before you.

“Hello sirs-“ Those eyes. That smile. Wonwoo sat before you, hand rested on his chin as he surveyed you. You felt a churning in your stomach as you let your eyes fall upon Seokmin beside him. His soft curls sat upon his head as he smiled ever so softly at you.

“We can now begin.” The music started up again as the crowd of people swallowed you up. Your sisters beamed at you as people swarmed you. They wanted to know where you got your dress “The Facemaker.” You politely replied. Who did your hair? “My mother wanted to.” You smiled at them. You were pulled from conversation to conversation. Every family wanted a piece of you. But your mind was back on Wonwoo. Your heart calling out to him across the floor.

His eyes followed you, dark and cold like you’d never seen them before.

“Wonwoo, calm down. She’s yours I’m not going to take her.” Seokmin leant over to his older brother, giggling slightly at the older man’s demeanour.

“I know you’re not. But they might.” He followed his brother’s gaze to the men being introduced to you by their fathers. “It seems like being the prince’s chosen gives a girl a certain…” His eyes scanned the crowd of men now surrounding you. Your father ever so keen to get you introduced to as many of them as possible. You were trying to be amicable, that soft smile on your face hiding the discomfort you felt. The burn of jealousy coursed through his veins as he watched you laugh and smile at these fools. If only they knew what he’d done to you, the noises he could pull from you with just his tongue or fingers. The way you beg him to cum in you, the tears in your eyes as he fucks you through another orgasm. You’d be too much for those idiots, they couldn’t make you feel how he did. Couldn’t make your body react the way he did.

“The princes will now have their first dance with each of the chosen.” Wonwoo and Seokmin stood, and the floor was cleared again. You finally found yourself walking back towards the man who held your heart in his hands and smiled. Wonwoo noticed that it finally reached your eyes.

“It is lovely to meet you Y/n.” He placed a soft kiss against the back of your hand.

“It is my honour sir.” You smiled even wider this time as he drew you closer as the music began.

“I hope you’re a good dancer.” He flashed you that dazzling smile once more as the music began up again.

“I hope you are too sir.” You felt the flush creep up your cheeks as the two of you started to dance. Your eyes glued to his as he led you across the floor, his never once leaving yours. You finally got what he meant that morning. While this was a surprise, you’d help him play the part for as long as it took to get your Wonwoo back.

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oops-all-concrete · 2 months

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Hello lovelies, 💘HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!!💘

I'm back with more BG3 headcanons! Today's prompt is;

💕Modern AU; Ways the BG3 (romanced) companions are idyllicly sweet with Tav!💕

No spoilers! Tags are; A whole heckin lot of fluff and cuteness!

Lae'zel -

You have to be careful with what you say around Lae'zel. Made a minor comment 3 months ago that you wanted to revisit somewhere in the Sword Coast? Get packing, you guys are all booked to go. Asked Lae'zel to get you candy on the way home? She has 3 full bags. Say that comment her folks made last time you visited made you uncomfortable- you have a paragraph text apology from all of them the next day. She's not just someone who wants to spoil Tav, she fucking will. (If Tav manages to talk her out of going nuts with the pampering, she's surprisingly sentimental. You bet she keeps a rock in her pocket that reminds her of Tav)

Shadowheart -

She is so excited to post you. She doesn't like social media and tends to keep to herself, but after watching Tav post pictures of them both, she wanted to do the same. The minute she gets even the smallest romantic gesture, she's scrapbooking, she has a wall of Polaroids joined by a horde of hand made sketches, she's putting together little snack baskets and mailing them to Tav, she's about as obviously head over heels as a person can be, really. She's always got a camera aimed at Tav, even if they're just for her. (A good 90% are just for her eyes)

Wyll -

This man never plays games/gets online with both sides of the headphones in. It doesn't matter if the game is online, offline, urgent, time sensitive, dependent on his concentration- if Tav so much as makes a peep, he's out of his seat and across the room. Hells, he takes every chance he gets to go give Tav some attention. In the drift of leaving the waking world, Tav will definitely hear a little "One minute, Tav needs me" despite them not asking. Some footsteps. And then moments later, the warmth of the duvet being tucked all over their body and a gentle kiss to the cheek. Whispered "I love you"s and then a quiet. "I'm going to hop off for a few hours." So you can have some quiet.

Karlach -

She's one of those people that really makes you realise you have good taste in other people. Like, you can't think of a time you went on a walk and she didn't pick up some trash, help an elderly person across the street, immediately offer her seat to a pregnant woman. No matter how prideful Tav might be or not, there's a pride in the admiring looks other people give her. Little girls pass in the street and say "mum, I want to be like her when I grow up!" Everything she does makes Tav proud to be with her, yet somehow Tav is always the one under a spotlight to her. "Oh, me and my partner-" this. "Oh, my partner-" that. "I'm so proud of my Tav. Ugh, I am so lucky" she insists at every turn.

Gale -

He's a night owl, much to Tara's dismay. Wether that's because he can't sleep, he likes being awake in the dark hours or- his brain won't stop nattering at him for a gods damned minute, but either way. He's probably working, quietly cleaning, organising Tavs things so they don't have to worry. In quiet moments, between possibly making them breakfast because of course he's up that early- he's just kissing Tav on the forehead, gently, trying not to wake them. He needs them to sleep but there is not a moment in his day where he doesn't think: "Does Tav know I love them? Can I remind them once more? Even if its just for my peace of mind?" Because he will not rest if he has an inkling his live for Tav isn't at the forefront of their mind.

Astarion -

If you even suggest to this man that you should do matching outfits, he's excited. He always wants to take the wheel, but also wants Tav to have a foot in the idea. He will give ideas left and right, opinions up and down. He doesn't care if it's a date or not, cringe solstice photos, or just gym clothes, he's all for it. If you guys didn't have matching pyjamas already, you have them now, congrats. (If he's still a bloodsucker, he'll definitely still go out of his way to learn how to cook for Tav. Tokyo Ghoul rules though, so Tav gets to taste test a lot. Only the best for his little capri-sun) Overall he's just unashamed and excited to be with someone who very obviously wants to be his, visibly as possible.

(Bonus Halsin!)

Halsin -

This man lives for shared activity. He's quite alright on his own and can allow Tav their space, but going to get massages, haircuts/styles, wine tasting is his total vibe. Just relaxed gatherings together. Nobody lives a spa day like this man. It allows a level of intimacy that nature intends. Cleansing. Careful. Close. He will learn how to do Tavs hair and makeup if asked. Will take pleasure in being able to undress them and put them to bed at the end of a long day. Go on hikes and camping trips, walks through the woods, carving names into rocks and bringing back souvenirs to press into a book that's only getting thicker.

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animentality · 4 months

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I love Baldur's Gate and the Dark Urge and all -

And the idea of the Dark Urge redeeming themselves after a lifetime of horror by literally choosing to die and go to purgatory forever is really amazing. In fact, it's why I'm so dedicated to the Dark Urge as a character.

The idea of a villain losing their memory, becoming a hero, and then realizing that they need to die not just once, but twice to truly DESERVE their redemption is honestly brilliant.

But.

Withers revives you way too fucking fast.

You literally die...and then Withers instantly brings you back.

In fact, it takes him fucking longer to revive your COMPANIONS than you, and your companions dying and being revived at camp aren't even part of the story, it's just you fucking something up and not wanting to waste a revive scroll.

Withers bringing you back instantly comes across as like, oh, so dying for your morals, being a true hero in the end, a martyr, defeating the villain, which is you...it's totally negated.

You died for about twenty seconds.

I've known people who died for longer on the operating table.

Where is my lover crying and clutching my body?

Where are my friends, all looking devastated, because they're all gotten to know me and root for me and truly care about me after I've done ALL THIS for them???

So that they could be safe from me?

Where is the emotion?

He brings you back and then your companions have a single line that's essentially just, "good job buddy."

Karlach says something like, I'm proud of you and Wyll says I'll drink in your name or whatever.

And Astarion has a really obnoxious line about how this means you aren't going to attack him anymore...and it's like... okay.

Cool.

So you guys are totally unphased by the fact that you just watched me die...but I suppose death doesn't mean shit in this game, since you have Withers to constantly bring you back.

Cool.

So then what? Nothing matters?

It's just frustrating because I know it's the cut content curse. They had more planned for Orin and the Dark Urge and Bhaal...but it just feels so underwhelming.

I think BG3's primary flaw comes in the fact that they wanted to build this richly crafted narrative, while also accounting for player choice. And they did a magnificent job of adding SO MANY extra scenes and alternate interactions, to the point where I'm still finding new shit, after like 800 hours of playing...

But the tradeoff is that the character stories...fall really flat, because they want so desperately for a Tav to be the main character, and no one else.

The Dark Urge especially suffers from this, because they made them a murder hobo in one ending, and basically just a Tav in the other ending.

As soon as you are brought back by Withers, you might as well just be a Tav. It has no bearing on anything anymore.

And that's such a shame.

I just wish it had some weight. The Dark Urge has spent their entire life ending lives... it should be beautiful, that they would end their own life to atone...their last victim, would be themselves, as they always knew...but for different reasons-

oh wait, withers is here.

cool, i'm back, guys, let's go to arby's and celebrate.

i just think the game should legitimately make you think you died, at least until a long rest or two.

force the squad to go on without you, make someone else your fourth member.

THEN withers can come to you, maybe in some kind of new Jerrgal-form, so you know he's Jergal for sure, and then reveal he was secretly a retired god.

And honestly, that makes Withers a far more interesting character too. To give him this huge hero moment, and have him say, no, this will not stand. I know he HAS that moment, but it's so rushed.

Let the player breathe on it. Let them FREAK OUT. Can you imagine how much stir it would've created, if Dark Urge players LEGIT thought they were dead permanently?

That would've given their sacrifice real weight.

But Larian was scared, probably, of players being upset that their characters are dead, even though that kind of sacrifice is literally the most heroic thing you could do in the game, besides become a damn mindflayer.

So some sacrifice! You sacrificed ten seconds of your life, and your companions barely care.

Alright. Fine.

I'll just be over here writing your story for you!

#dark urge #baldurs gate 3 #bg3

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arrenkae · 8 months

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More thoughts after finishing bg3:

Dark urge for a first playthrough also turned out to be Fine Actually

In fact, it was pretty amazing

It's not just about being a murderhobo, or resisting being a murderhobo; it's a very strong storyline that is HEAVILY tied with the game's main story, and impacts a lot of the decisions you are making, and your character truly feels like an intended protagonist

And yes you can reject the urge and be a good guy

Yes, it's still very dark. You are not always in control. But it won't screw over your entire good-aligned playthrough or anything. What it does do is provide a great source for inner conflict and angst, and an amazing dramatic conclusion at the end of the game

Big spoilers obviously:

So as many have guessed already, dark urge is a bhaalspawn

And if you eventually reject your father, OH BOY HE IS NOT HAPPY

As in, he straight up kills you

BUT THEN

WITHERS MY MAN COMES IN AND IS LIKE "LOL NOPE NOT TODAY"

Yes we know you are Jergal

Best boy

Best god

And I also love this line at the very end

Taking back control from the tadpole AND Bhaal feels so satisfying and it really feels like your character's mind has went through hell and they deserve to finally have some peace from all the Horrors

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #dark urge #playing bg3 #my screenshots #crpg oc #kieran the murder drow #txt

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bg3sinbin · 2 months

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Alright so I told myself I wouldn't post anything about it... but I still can't stop thinking about the A!Astarion kisses, Tav/Durge's face during it, and the stupid blow up around it. So here we go

Warnings: This is long and rambly and contains all kinds of spoilers. I am an A!Astarion lover. I will not be responding to discourse on this post. I do not care if you disagree. Make your own vent post.

OKAY so the brunt of the arguments I keep trying to ignore seeing surrounding this are how the expressions are "immersion breaking" for A!A fans, and everyone else clowning on them (sometimes rightfully so tho, ngl) because "the game gives the player expressions all the time! why are u mad now? do u just want ur Tav/Durge to be a blank slate?? lmao idiot" which ??? okay it feels like ur purposefully missing the point.

Yeah, actually sometimes this game gives my Durge some really ooc reactions. And it does, in fact, bother me. That being said, that is to be expected when u take an oc u had for like ten years and try to stick them in a pre-programmed video game. Things are gonna get ooc sometimes.

It also though, is usually smaller moments. Or things that happen Once and then u move on. Conversations where I go "hmmm. he wouldn't say any of these. oh well." or moments where he reacts negatively to terrible things that this evil bastard would normally laugh at. OH. WELL.

Now here's where my frustration actually come in. This game does a really good job, probably a better job than anything else I've played, at letting u play an interesting evil char. Something more than just "I am Rude, Aggressive, and A Dick To Everyone" and thus being punished for it gameplay wise.

I can play The Dark Urge, literal child of the god of murder, a canon necrophiliac, cannibalistic, gore freak that was going to flatten the entire world. There is a whole ass plot line and ending (multiple achievements included!) surrounding doing just that. There's all kinds of nasty interactions/plot options programmed in.

Yet, to the best of my memory, my Durge doesn't look horrified when we choose to slaughter the grove. He doesn't look horrified when we choose to kill the Dame Aylin, or Isobel. He isn't Obviously Distraught when we choose to help Astarion complete the ritual, or when we kill Shadowheart's parents, or become an Unholy Assassin of Bhaal.

To my knowledge, the player character isn't made to look afraid when kissing Dark Justiciar!Shadowheart, nor when they are literally poisoned by kissing Minthara. Sure, u CAN be offended about it in the convo with her after, but its still ur choice as the player.

I mean shit, they even patched in (in that very same patch) a positive, supportive reaction from ur evil partners at the end when u take over the nether brain! (at least for A!Astarion, and Minthara) so now when u do the evil thing that u and ur evil partner have been talking about all game, they don't suddenly change their opinion the second u actually do it.

And I really appreciate that about bg3. I can make evil choices and get interesting outcomes rather than the game just locking me out of all content actually made for that quest. Like ffs u can only get Minthara's romance scene if u slaughter dozens of innocents.

THIS GAME REWARDS U FOR DOING THE BAD THING. And like the evil options do usually have drawbacks and/or are less fleshed out than the good ones, but there are whole ass plots arcs u will never see if u only play good chars. This game makes playing an evil character interesting.

So why is it that I can do all that, and make/have my Durge react (mostly) accordingly, yet the moment the partner I chose acts controlling, now is when my characters feelings are being decided for me?

I can spend the whole game hearing Astarion talk about how spawn are controlled, how all vampires want is power, and I can say to his face "yes! this character wants that! turn me!" and yet somehow... what? the creators think I didn't know?

It just genuinely doesn't make sense to me. Like I can choose, through dialogue, that my Durge is power hungry, and very into the idea of being Astarion's pretty little lap dog. He knew what he was signing up for! And yet he looks terrified when his vampire bf (who has been feeding on him all game) bites his lip?? really?

Idk I just have some really weird feelings on some of the ways they try to Really Emphasize that u made the wrong choice for Astarion specifically, and this just exemplifies that.

Either do the rest of ur characters this service, make all of them (make every choice in the game) a moral lesson for the player to learn, where u hold their hand and say "u didn't listen to what they actually needed :c u could have done the good thing but u didn't :c"

Or let me play my evil bastard. And let me revel in it.

#ascended astarion #is the ONLY tag i will be putting this in #commiserate with me fellow evil bastards #this post is not for the rest of the fandom lmfao #is this a bad idea to post at all? probably fghjgfdghj #but unfortunately i have Opinions

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lucrezianoin · 7 months

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(sorry none of my friends have finished bg3 so I don't have anywhere to talk abt this so pls feel free to ignore this hahaha) also I was reading a dowry of blood and feel some parallels here especially with perpetuating power cycles as a vampire and just. I watched the scenes at camp and ascended astarion can be fully seductive, make you feel like you're in control, make you feel like you are part of this, but you KNOW the instant you want to do something on your own terms and not his that he won't be happy with you. like I did the mild disagree options in the camp afterwards and he gets mad at you and says maybe you're not worth keeping around then. he wants you all in at all times and if you are then sure it feels seductive (thinking about ppl who think ascendant is ~good~ no pls embrace how much this story hurts your heart), but if you're not...writers took so many notes from vampire literature, from abuse cycles, god he's written so well

OH NO PLEASE feel free to send me messages!! I love talking about this game haha.

Ohh I never heard dowry of blood, now I am kind of curious. I feel like I am missing a bunch of characterization/tropes because I know nothing of vampires and vampire literature so I am dying to hear what people who actually know about vampire and engage with the novels/tropes think of it. And yeah, you are right, he does make it feel appealing.

He is seductive, he uses his act 1 persona kinda, unless you take a step too far then he gets very nasty and/or kind of childish like he is following the script and then he is left reeling.

I think a lot of people who think the relationship is all good and nice because Astarion loves their Tav forgets Karlach. Karlach IS Tav basically, if you play as her, she is the player character, and Astarion would love her as much as any Tav in other games - and yet, when she tries to protect him, and to remind him of her engine, Astarion is so drunk with power and control that he thinks he is above such frivolities now.

But he cannot stand to accept responsibility, he will immediately be the absolute worst towards Karlach. He would have done the same to any other Tav who wanted to be bitten but had to refuse for other reasons:

youtube

BUT YES please I wanna hear everything about vampires tropes!!

#ascended astarion #karlach #sorry i derailed #i got distracted thinking about karlach

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ceeridwen99 · 6 months

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BG3 Companion Endings !!Rant!!

Hello there.

I...I just need to get some things off my chest, and this seems like as good of a place to do it as I will get.

So, exactly 100 hours of documented time into my campaign, and I'm about to start a fresh game because I don't want to finish act 3.

Let me explain. Also !!!!*SPOILERS*!!!!!

This may be a bit of an unpopular opinion, but the conclusions to a lot of the questlines, once we reach BG, are either unsatisfying or utter trash. My main gripe comes from the choices--or lack there fucking of--when it comes to the conclusion of certain companion questlines.

(Note: This is NOT a post about whatever companion ending one thinks is "good" vs "evil". I honestly don't give a shit about what endings people choose for their games. My issues come from the endings themselves.)

This stems from my main group setup, Shadowheart, Karlach, and, of course, Astarion (also my romance). I played a bard!Tav. It goes without saying that I love all the companions, even the ones that I didn't mainly use. They're all beautifully layered and I love that they are actually influenced by your playthrough...for the most part.

We'll get there in a moment.

My point is, after spending a good 100 hours with these characters, you end up caring a great deal about them. I really looked forward to seeing how their arcs were going to come to a head when we finally reached BG...

Act 1: Phenomenal.

Act 2: Fucking Fantastic.

Act 3: What the hell was that!

Never mind the complete and utter lack of pacing in the third act compared to the first two, what the hell are those questline endings?! I've never been so fucking disappointed and furious in my life. Again, this isn't a post about "good" vs "evil", but my irritation that NONE of the endings are good, or in my case, satisfying.

For a game that really stresses choices mattering (and for the most part they do to a certain point), it really suffers from Telltale syndrome in its final act, where none of the choices actually end up mattering, but in truth, you're pigeon-holed into two, and if you're lucky three endings.

Shadowheart's ending (in the Selune path) is either losing her parents but freeing her from Shar's control. Or gaining her parents but being tortured for the rest of her life. I don't even want to go into the Shar ending.

Karlach's ending is just fucking sad no matter which choice you make, and even the patched ending--supposedly giving us a better conclusion--is just bittersweet.

ASTARION'S FUCKING ENDING! Oh my god, his fucking ending is either selling his soul and the souls of seven thousand innocent people to not get a fucking sunburn. OR being banished back into the shadows and releasing seven thousand feral spawn into the world-- because yeah that sounds like a fucking good idea. Even if you don't release them, you have a choice between leaving them behind to rot or fucking killing them, but in this instance, their lives really would have been for nothing. By the end of this questline (and it is beautifully acted I'll give it that) I just sat there with a pit in my stomach feeling like I fucked up somehow no matter what ending I chose. To top it off, I learned that we don't even get any information at the end about how our choices affect the world after! What the hell!

Even Wyll's quest! Why the fuck an "I" of all people making this choice for him?! Where the fuck is the option to make him choose, or even ask him what he thinks/wants. In fact, where is the option to make anyone choose for themselves? Only Shadowheart (I found) really has one during her quest.

I find it really hard to believe that one could write such complex characters with strong, differing, opinions--so strong that they will leave the party if they dislike your actions too much--but then make them rely on the PC to make the most important decisions in their fucking lives. This is such fucking lazy writing and a cop-out. All of the conversations, all of the growth, really is just boiled down to "What do you as the player want for them?" *feral scream*

More than this, why the hell are there only two (maybe three at the max) options in the first place? You give us dozens of ways to resolve quests in acts 1 and 2, and yet, here is where you want to pull the "Life isn't all sunshine and rainbows, everyone has to lose something to gain something in return" bullshit? What the hell, Larian!

Don't get me wrong. I'm a writer. I get that narrative. But not here. Not in a game like this. In a game like this, these "choices" feel like a slap in the face. This is DND, there are always more than two to three ways to solve something.

I know there are limitations. I know this doesn't have a DM who can make adjustments to the story on the fly to give an ending based purely on your choices. Even so, it is still highly disappointing (even more so for someone who plays DND and is a DM). I was so mad after these questline conclusions that it soured my playthrough. I don't want to finish this campaign because what's the point when I know the people I've spent 100 hours with, are going to get the short end of the stick no matter what I choose.

I went and looked at spoilers for the main story ending after this, and that just pissed me off more. Two or three endings and a piss-poor epilogue are what we get. Not even credit slides to let us know how our choices actually affected the world in the end. Why. Why. I don't even want to mention how dirty they did Astarion. That wasn't funny. Just fucking sad.

This game is overall a 10/10 for me when it comes to acts 1 and 2. It's fantastic. But Act 3 is a solid 2/10 for me, I'm sorry. There isn't enough content to fill the third act out either. I don't know if my game is bugged, but I can barely find any quests outside of what's picked up in Acts 1 and 2 and it's making running around the city seem aimless.

In conclusion, I'm mad and sad. At this point, I'm just going to replay acts 1 and 2 until this supposed Definitive Edition Larian is apparently good at putting out for their games irons out these inconsistencies, hopefully. (This post is just about companions, I also have many issues with the main story. *sigh*)

At least there is plenty of content in the first two acts to keep one busy, and even with 100 hours, I know I haven't seen everything. I'm also curious to know if my perspective of the third act will change with the Dark Urge, as I've heard good things about them being closer connected to the plot.

Who knows, we'll see.

Lol, this isn't how I expected to come back to this blog. If you've made it this far, thank you for listening to my rant.

Final disclaimer: Please remember this isn't about "good" vs "evil" endings. Also, if this is not at all how you felt, I'm glad you had a better experience than I did lol.

Alright, time to go write AU/homebrew fanfiction.

Stay tuned. ;)

#bg3 #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate #bg3 astarion #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 karlach #bg3 wyll #bg3 gale #bg3 tav #bg3 ending #rant post #sorry for the rant #bg3 companions

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littlejuicebox · 4 months

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My Sun, My Moon

Pairing: Spawn Astarion x GN!Reader/Tav Summary/Setting: 6 months post BG3 / Part 2 to my other fic Astarion talks in his sleep. Rating/Warnings: PG-13 / In game spoilers / Alludes to sexual encounters / Mentions of past trauma etc / Pretty much all fluff / It’s so sweet it’s going to rot your teeth Word Count: 2.3K Notes: This is 5/5 Days of "Star-mas!"

*takes a bow* Happy Holidays! Hope you all enjoyed!

I'm also entering this into the #BG3HolidayFluffle23 challenge under the prompt "twinkling lights."

Click here to see my master list.

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After Astarion’s sleep-talking gave away his little secret, you’d spent nearly every waking moment anticipating the rogue’s proposal. You were horribly, terribly wrong every time, of course. You began to think that perhaps your original assumptions were right, and that an engagement would come much later on. Maybe he wasn’t quite ready. Maybe he was just planning and thinking about the future… the frustratingly distant future. He’d ask the question when he was ready, you reasoned; in his own time and on his own terms. You could respect that.

But then, on the eve of the Netherbrain Battle’s six month anniversary, you came home to a dinner that Astarion had cooked (almost) entirely himself. Candles were lit, table settings were placed, and your lover chose an expensive wine pairing for the meal. His steak was, of course, entirely raw while yours was seasoned and cooked to perfection. You were certain you had Shadowheart to thank for your half of the meal, but you’d complimented your lover and all his efforts, nonetheless. At the end of dinner, you were quite confident that this would be the moment you’d been waiting weeks for.

“I have something to say.” Astarion murmured, lithe fingers rubbing circles on the back of your hand as he clasped it in his own.

You practically felt your soul leave your body in that moment. Oh gods, you knew what your answer would be, you knew this was coming, and yet here it was, and you were still wholly unprepared. You barely fumbled out a, “Y-yes, my love? What is it?”

“I read your mail.” Astarion responded, his eyes flooding full of guilt at the confession. He expelled a small sigh, flicking his gaze up at the ceiling and then back down to you. “Darling, I know we have been discussing this for months, but I really don’t think we should go to the Underdark. You’re getting so many outstanding offers that require you to remain in the city. You’re the hero of Baldur’s Gate, for god’s sakes. I know you want me to be safe from the sun… but I can’t, in good conscience, do that to you and rip you away from so many wonderful opportunities.”

“O-oh…” Your chest deflates and you catch yourself frowning for just a moment. Astarion’s brow furrows as he incorrectly interprets the cause of your sudden mood shift to be the current conversation and not the crushing disappointment you were trying to shove aside. You quickly try to move into a more neutral expression, but the rogue is already jumping into another worried explanation.

“Darling... Please hear me. I love you more than anything, and I know you better than anyone. You will not be truly happy there, of that much I am absolutely certain. These offers you’re receiving will give you multiple avenues to build the life you want…. the life we want. Imagine the good you could do with that level of influence, my love! Let me help you; I can review contracts, negotiate deals… whatever you need to ensure your success. Do not throw away so much potential on my account. I simply couldn’t live with myself if you did.”

He was right, of course. The only thing you wanted almost as much as you wanted Astarion was to continue the good work you two had been doing for Baldur’s Gate.

You sigh and nod your head, squeezing his hand gently. “You’re right, my love. I suppose it would be silly for both of us to throw away so much opportunity.”

Astarion beamed at your response before leaning over the table to plant a kiss on your lips. You smiled at the rogue when he pulled away to look at you with adoring crimson eyes. Perhaps it hadn’t been the conversation you were hoping for, but it had been a good and much needed one, nonetheless.

-----

Tonight, you and Astarion decided to take a stroll around the city. You were following the vampire’s lead, ambling around the streets as he pointed out more than a few of his old haunts. He revealed some of the difficult moments in his past as you two meandered about… more than one of the tales nearly made you cry with an overwhelm of sympathy for your lover. But you held back, knowing the elf hated eyes full of pity almost as much as he’d hated Cazador.

You noted that Astarion seemed to look back on his experience with more acceptance now. You knew, of course, that there were likely an infinite number of stories he had not yet revealed to you and perhaps never would. But you were still happy to see a bit of lightness in him as he spoke his truth. He hadn’t appeared to have one of his episodes on the entire walk, and as you pondered this, you also realized his night terrors had only occurred a handful of times this month. Such an improvement to what had been an almost daily incidence when you two originally moved in together.

Before long, you and your love arrived at the docks, where just over six months ago you’d felt as if you’d been stabbed in the gut as you watched the rays of sunlight scorch the vampire until he was forced to run for cover. But now, you two stood there hand in hand, resting in a pocket of comfortable silence. Both of you were admiring the twinkling starlight, full moon, and dark, mysterious expanse of the sea.

“The stars were so much more beautiful in the wilds… don’t you think, my sweet?” Astarion asks, his eyes filled with wistfulness as he ponders the sky.

You utter a little hum of agreement as your mind flashes to the first night in camp, when you caught Astarion reclined on his bedroll, stargazing. You turned your head to look at the rogue and remind him of the memory, but found he disappeared from your line of sight. Your vision wanders down and there he is, bent on one knee.

Oh this had to be the moment. Just when you were about to shout yes before the rogue even had a moment to say anything, Astarion looks up and smiles, a small pouch of gold coins in his hand. “Look! I suppose it’s our lucky day, darling. Their loss is our gain, would— are you alright, Tav? You’ve got this strange look on your face.”

Gods, not again. You feel your face flush with embarrassment. In your excitement and overwhelm, you’d almost ruined everything and let Astarion know that you knew his little secret. You made the decision then and there that this would be the last time you anticipated his proposal; let it happen when it’s meant to happen. You were done playing the guessing game. You couldn’t ruin everything with your big fat mouth.

You nod your head slightly before turning to look back at the stars once more, taking a deep breath and hoping to settle yourself.

“Yes, my love. I suppose I’m just thrilled by the beauty of the stars and the full moon, tonight. And by your beauty, of course.”

The rogue stands up, tucking the small sachet in his pocket. He smiles and places a soft, loving peck on the apple of your cheek before wrapping his arm around your waist. The two of you look up at the stars once more, and you spend a few moments pointing out some constellations in the sky. Stargazing had been one of the first things you two bonded over in camp.

Astarion is watching you with devoted interest as you ramble on about the planets and the mythological creatures represented by the patterns in the stars. Finally, there is a small lapse in conversation, and you want to take the opportunity to kiss him, but when you turn, the vampire is once again out of your sight line.

When you look down this time, Astarion is looking up at you, holding a velvet box in shaking hands.

“Tav—" He manages to choke out, but then his eyes fill with tears, and he stops to blink them away, chuckling softly at himself. You immediately come to kneel in front of your love, hands pressed to either side of his face, silently urging him to continue.

The vampire inhales shakily, suddenly quite overwhelmed by the extreme vulnerability he knows he’s about to lay before you. But the softness of your hands on his face grounds him in the moment and he smiles, admiring the look of utter adoration in your eyes.

A couple of tears fall over the edge of his lash line, and you immediately swipe them away with your shaking thumb. Another chuckle escapes the silver-haired elf, and he shakes his head in disbelief.

“My love… I’ve rehearsed this for weeks. I’ve said it all out loud more than a thousand times, I’m sure. I’ve spent almost every opportunity in your absence practicing this. One time I even had Shadowheart pretend to be you while I rehearsed my grand speech. But now that we are here… I’ve nearly forgotten everything I wanted to say.”

You move forward to press a kiss to Astarion’s lips, your hands still shaking as you run your thumb over his cheekbone. “It’s okay, my Star. Please continue, when you’re ready… rehearsed or from the heart… I want to hear it all the same.”

Astarion nods just a fraction and inhales. The shaking hand that is not holding the ring box comes to lay atop your own hand resting on his face. Your love slowly, absently runs his thumb along the back of your palm as he gathers his thoughts. He stares into your eyes with so much love that you almost kiss him again but hold yourself back to allow him to continue.

Astarion exhales a shuddering breath and then continues in a reverent tone, as if he’s whispering a prayer, “My darling. I have lived long life. Much of it was a sad and hopeless one. When we were walking through the city, I pointed out several places where I’d encountered horrible things. Many of those things are still hard to talk about… some of it, I don’t know that I will ever be able to.”

You are crying now, from the overwhelming blend of sympathy for your little Star and palpable feeling of love in this beautiful moment. Tears begin coursing thin streams down your cheeks. Astarion wipes away the tears as they fall, though his lips start trembling from your display of emotion.

“B-but what I do know is that… in many of the places I pointed out, there are also memories of us. Of our friends. Of the time we spent together before saving the city and of the six months we’ve spent here after that. Little by little, we are taking places that only held horrible memories for me and turning them into places that hold feelings of hope and happiness.

I guess what I’m saying is that… these past six months have been the counterweight to two hundred years of misery. And I do not think I deserve you, but I cannot imagine my life without you. You are everywhere I go, everywhere I look, and every happy memory I hold in my heart. If you’ll have me… I would like to spend the rest of our lives, however long they may be, turning this city into a place of hope for us and for the people we hold dear.”

Astarion opens the box, and you gasp in true awe as he reveals possibly the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen. At the center is a beautiful moonstone, emitting an ethereal glow that shines brilliantly in the darkness of the pier. The setting is gold, and an intricate sunburst pattern made in smaller gems surrounds the center stone.

“Standing on the dock that day, after that long battle… I had the thought that my life was ruined when I realized I could no longer stand in the sun. I thought I might never know true happiness again. But it turns out, that was the moment my new life with you began… and you’ve opened the door to more happiness than I could’ve ever imagined for myself.

Even if I never see the sun again, I have made my peace. I would make the choices I made to be here with you, on this dock, in this moment, again and again in every lifetime. You are my sun and my moon. And my darling, it would be my honor to be your Star for the rest of time. Tav… will you marry me?”

As soon as the question comes out of your lover’s lips, you instantly push forward to crash into Astarion, enveloping the elf in an emotional kiss. You both topple over from the sheer force of your ardor, and as you do, the vampire deftly snaps the ring box closed to protect it from spilling out onto the dock.

When you finally break away, panting heavily, both your faces are thoroughly flushed with excitement. The vampire looks up at you, scarlet eyes filled with absolute devotion. You giggle and press one more soft kiss to the rouge before taking your hand in his and pressing a kiss to his knuckle. “Yes, Astarion. Nothing in this life would make me happier than to share it with you.”

-----

Later that evening, the two of you are naked in bed after several rounds of vigorous celebration. You’re admiring your ring, which is still faintly glowing in the semi-darkness of your bedchambers. Astarion takes your hand and presses his lips to the ring with a small smile; his scarlet eyes closely examine the gem.

“I don’t know how it works… you would have to ask Gale. But the center stone glows when I think of you, you know.”

You blink, moving to touch the gemstone in the middle of the ring with curiosity. “But it hasn’t stopped glowing since we’ve been on the docks.”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since we’ve been on the docks.” Astarion replies simply, moving his hand to stroke your cheek as a gentle, good-natured laugh escapes his mouth, “Perhaps now you’ll have some insight into how often my thoughts revolve around you, my sweet.”

You feel your eyes welling with tears again. Damn this man and his beautiful heart… he truly never misses a detail when it comes to you. You move forward to pull his lips into another loving kiss, and when you break away this time, a thought crosses your mind.

“Astarion… did you really find that bag of coins on the dock?”

Your lover grins mischievously, his crimson eyes crinkling at the corners as he grabs your ring-clad hand and kisses it once more.

“No, my sweet. But I had to throw you off. Shadowheart told me about my mishap. I wanted to surprise you… but you know me far too well and you’ve never been easily fooled… and the sleepy confession didn’t help things at all. I just figured that you would never anticipate that I’d drop down on one knee twice in a row.”

Astarion knew you just as well as you knew him… and he had been right. He’d fooled you. You roll your eyes and chuckle as the rogue moves closer to you, nuzzling into the side of your neck where fresh fang marks throbbed.

“Now what do you say, darling? One more round of celebration before we go to bed?”

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