#and then I used to take gale but ever since I picked up karlach she kind of took over his spot

[snarkspawn]

some floating heads of my boy Asher, his guardian and his favourite people to go adventuring with ♥

#baldur's gate 3 #bg 3 #bg 3 oc #tiefling #shadowheart #astarion #gale of waterdeep #karlach #dnd #elf #half elf #stuff and things #userpharawee #I doodled asher as a quick silly cooldown drawing and then just ... kind of felt like adding the rest #as for his party ... shadowheart and astarion are p much fixed lmao #and then I used to take gale but ever since I picked up karlach she kind of took over his spot #she's just so cool. I mean HOT obviously #but in a super cool way #I really wish you could take more than 3 companions because MAN I want to take them ALL. all the time

[pastrydragon]

The BG3 Beef I wanna see shitpost

While I do love the idea of Tav/Astarion/Karlach/whoever getting more unique mean dialogue with Ulder Ravengard, especially when he has the audacity to take up space in your camp like that instead of someone cooler like Barcus or that one bullied hyena, I want very specific flavor text that you'd only get in the epilogue party if you pick a specific ending even more.

I think if you romance Wyll as Gale or Gale as Wyll and then you don't go to Avernus, I think it would be totally galaxy brain to have dialogue in the epilogue that reveals Ulder Ravengard and Morena Dekarios fucking DESPISE one another. Because they absolutely would.

We never get to meet Morena in game but you can tell from what Gale and Tara say about her and Gale's... Galeness that she is at least a part time passenger on the "Fuck you my child is fine" train. Her sweet little boy? Commit evil deeds? Never! There has obviously been a mistake. I mean she indulged that "Gale Of Waterdeep" nonsense and when Gale summoned a full on Tressym after being explicitly denied a kitten as a child, she just let him keep her. No repercussions.

And then her sweet boy brings home another sweet boy who is probably EXACTLY what she pictured Gale's partner should be like.(Because Wyll is the damn blueprint for "Guy you could bring home to mom") Wyll is ridiculously sweet to Gale, he's the perfect gentleman, he's very open to the idea of giving Morena the grandchildren she's been nagging Gale about in the very near future. Pinch her, she must be dreaming!

I cannot imagine her reacting to Wyll's backstory with any amount of empathy towards Ulder, obviously that man is a cruel psychopath to throw poor Wyll out like that after "a tiny misunderstanding" and Wyll is just too good of a son not to see it. Which is partially true, Wyll is definitely still in some kind of denial stage over what his father did but that's not the point of the post.

Then there's Ulder who probably thinks Gale is... Fine. He's not someone he ever would have pictured for Wyll. Gale is a babbling oddball, he has chronic foot-in-mouth disease and has only ever met the pointy end of a sword. But he can't say anything because Gale saved him, his son, and Bulder's gate, and a small army of tieflings, and apparently a bunch of mushroom people and blah blah more reasons he can never have the moral high ground blah. He's undeniably stuck with this fucking wizard, and his nightmare of a mother.

Morena firmly believes that since the Ravengard manor is technically Wyll's now, then it's also Gale's and thus is now hers as well. When I say she would walk through the doors like she owned the place I mean it very literally. Where did Ulder's old helmet display go? "They were rusty and it was ruining the wooden shelves, besides these enchanted swords go better with the new drapes we had to get, I don't know how you didn't notice how moth eaten they were getting." Everyday he wakes up and something about his own damn home has been changed to make it look more like a wizard tower. She doesn't even live here most of the time!

And it doesn't stop there, not at all. No this women has to make sure his son doesn't live there full time either. Every holiday and birthday she has to send Gale a letter about how much she misses him and you should visit so you can take a break from all that(Very important!) work and how she already has the venison just for Wyll.

And every time he's forced to interact with this harpy she looks at him with a sweet smile on her face, honey in her voice and the burning hatred of a thousand suns in her eyes then somehow managed to insult him five times in one sentence without ever explicitly insulting him. This women is a devil from Avernus sent to punish him for his sins and she's even won over the grandkids. Obviously that women is a manipulative psychopath for using her control over Gale to manipulate his son. Which, yeah Gale not being able to say no to his mom has contributed greatly to this and if Wyll knew what healthy boundaries looked like he probably wouldn't have put up with it but he doesn't so here we are.

Let these two be the Tom and Jerry style B plot to BG4 is what I'm saying.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #wyll ravengard #bg3 wyll #ulder ravengard #morena dekarios #gale x wyll #I don't know their ship name #I only ship it for the family drama #Astarion can also fill this role as Wyll's SO but this is funnier to me #bladeweave #thank you dromaeocore for telling me!

[taki-yaki]

I’ve got a prompt idea. Maybe this Tav is a natural mind reader, even before the tadpole, so she immediately knows Astarion is a vampire who’s terrified of being hunted down. Since I’m a sucker for protective Tav, maybe she keeps his secret for as long as possible, or secretly helping him find some wildlife when his hunger gets worse…

Oooh, I like the idea of this. I will take some notes from the Aberrant Mind Sorcerer subclass and the great old one Warlock subclass, which does have telepathy-themed spells and feats.

Astarion x Mind Reader Tav Headcanons

For as long as you can remember, you were gifted with telepathy, allowing you to read other people’s thoughts through a simple glance. You tried to keep this skill hidden from others, in the fear of what others would do to you if they ever discovered your gift, making yourself somewhat of a loner, preferring the company of silence to others.

However, fate thought otherwise, by being abducted by the nautiloid with a mind flayer parasite being unceremoniously inserted into you, amplifying your abilities tenfold, now being able to just read surface-level thoughts undetected, without having to focus on a singular person at a time.

This, unfortunately, leads to accidentally learning too much about your new traveling companions, with private thoughts now being picked up on, from Shadowheart and Laezel’s constant bickering being transmitted constantly to you, to Gale’s seemly never-ending thoughts leading you to have constant headaches whenever he goes off on a theory of his.

However, when you brush minds with Astarion, you quickly discover that he’s a vampire, a blood-sucking beast of the night. Seemly able to walk in the sun unharmed, thanks in part to the tadpole.

Every night at camp, you try to keep a close eye on his thoughts in an attempt to focus on what his intentions are with you.

Most of his surface-level thoughts range from either commenting on others' fashion choices, to practising his latest lines he wants to perform.

“Is Gale wearing new boots? They’d look better on me than him.”

“Hmm Laezel, sharp as a blade but sweet as a… no that won’t do.”

But something seemed to lie deeper, fear. Fear of what the others would do upon discovering your secret, knowing that you are more fiend than friend. It reminds you of your past self, wanting to hide from the world. Besides he doesn’t want to harm anyone, but just wants to survive like you. 

In an attempt to help him out, you try to discreetly hunt out and weaken boars to take back to camp and cook, in hopes that he can use the opportunity to drain the creature before the others get suspicious of his night treks into the woods.

Although this doesn’t last all too long before someone figures out he’s a vampire, you try to defend him, acting as if you are entirely clueless, much to Gale’s annoyance.

Eventually, others at camp notice how you stare at Astarion so often at camp, which makes them think you have fallen head over heels for him.

“Aww Tav are you eyeing up fangs again?” Karlach shouted at you from behind. 

This inflates his ego quite a bit, “Well, of course, I mean look at me”. This leads to him thinking you’ve fallen head over heels for him in his mind. Constantly thinking of ways to charm you in his head, causing you to turn your head away to stop reading his mind to avoid you from melting on the spot in embarrassment.

Despite your companion's comments, you’re always by his side, whenever you feel his saddest or fear you are there ready to comfort him.

One night, he jokes to you, “You know darling, you always seem to know when to be in the right place at the right time. It’s as if you can read minds, even without that worm in your pretty head.”

At that moment, it felt like time slowed down, did he know, were you being too obvious, what if he doesn’t want to talk to me ever again? What if-

A cold hand touched your chin, “Darling, are you alright? You looked leagues away then”

“Was it something I said? I only joked if that you could read minds, wait-”

Opening his mouth “Can you read minds?”

Turning to meet his ruby eyes, all you can do is silently nod. You wait with baited breath for him to yell out at you, or just get up and leave. But he doesn’t, instead giving you a tooth grin, excited by the prospect. 

Ever since then, every day he asks you non-stop, for either the latest gossip from others in camp or teasing you by thinking of all the inappropriate things he’ll do to you, when you are talking to others, to just simple things by stating how beautiful you look today. Eventually, the others catch on to your abilities since Astarion couldn’t keep his mouth shut for all too long and explained the constant silent staring.

Despite his relentless teasing, you still use your powers to check if anyone had any nefarious intentions with Astarion, ever since the meeting with the Gur you want to protect him from anyone who could be a spy for Cazador. For all the work you put in to ensure his safety, he tries to repay you, through other means.

Going around camp to make sure that Shadowheart and Lae’zel stop their squabbles, to Gale’s overthinking. At times if it gets to be too much for you, he’ll take you away from camp to try and give you peace of mind. He even offers you tadpole elixirs to try and reduce the constant stream of thoughts from making your head explode, especially when you reach Baldur’s Gate.

After the tadpole is gone, it takes time for you to adjust back to your usual abilities, having to relearn them. You and Astarion decide to settle down somewhere quiet in the countryside, away from busy buzzing minds. Both of you seem to have quite a bit to relearn, from his spider climb abilities and regenerative healing to your telepathy. But this time you’re not alone, you have someone who isn’t afraid of what you are and accepts you for being you.

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x durge #astarion x dark urge #hope you like in anon it did try to get a bit of balance between some fluff and slight angst #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion headcanons #I had fun writing this #i hope you like it anon #I tried to get a balance between fluff and slight angst

[pagesfromthevoid]

A Real Nightmare | a.a. | 4

Astarion x fem!tav

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Mildly suggestive themes. Nudity, almost sex, talking about consent and insecurities

Author’s Note: I promise I didn’t give up on this I just got distracted by the fuckin wizard

Series Masterlist | Talk to Me!

It wasn’t that they didn’t have a lot of alone time in the following days since Tav confessed her desire for Astarion. It was just that she had decided to let Astarion make whatever move he wanted first –if he ever made one. 

While he admitted he found her attractive the other night, he told her that she “smelt like a wet dog” and couldn’t bear the idea of bedding her like that. Tav had rolled her eyes at his dismissal, chalking it up to him putting up the walls she had managed to break down. But she didn’t push him, and simply thanked him again for letting her use his tent and bedroll for the night.

“I suppose we could share until you get your own,” he had offered dismissively, waving his hand as he reopened his book. 

And thus started a strange co-living situation that was a step above what they had already been doing. They had plenty of alone time in camp, with her sharing his tent each night. But Astarion either didn’t want to make a move or didn’t know he could —both of which made Tav’s heartache one way or another. 

Following a particularly nasty fight against a couple of death Shepard (truly, could they catch a break?), Tav's magic had taken a rather chaotic turn, ensnaring everyone and anything that stepped too close to her. Karlach and Gale had gotten away just fine, though Astarion had briefly slashed at the roots to free himself. Even she was stuck in the vines that had appeared after a particularly powerful spell, preventing her from being able to help further than casting a fire bolt here and there. 

“We could just leave her here,” Astarion suggested, standing right at the edge of the vines that tangled her up now. 

“Astarion, you ass —,” she started, but was cut off by a vine jabbing itself into her calf and causing her to curse angrily. 

“And risk you biting one of us, instead?” Karlach chuckled, hacking away at the vines. “C’mon, soldier. Simmer down so we can get you out.”

“If it was that easy,” Tav huffed in frustration, throwing her hands up. “I damn well wouldn’t be here.”

“Perhaps if you knew how to control yourself,” Astarion offered unhelpfully. “We wouldn’t be picking you from the bushes.”

“You are not helping, Astarion!” 

“You have to remember that the power is within you,” Gale reminded her, smiling that know-it-all smile of his that Tav really didn’t want to see at the moment, even though she knew he meant well. “Your powers come from ancient forces of chaos. They churn within you —waiting to burst free at any time. You just need to take a deep breath and —,”

“I do not need a lesson in magic right now!” She snapped at him, only worsening the vines that wrapped around her. She held her breath for a moment, looking at the wizard. “Gale, I do not need to be reminded of what my magic does. I am painfully aware. You can teach me later.”

Then she heaved another sigh, looking to Karlach now as the tiefling broke through the original set of vines. Tav was able to shake loose the newest round, stepping clumsily out of the disaster. 

Clumsily being the key word, as the moment she thought she was free, another root wrapped around her ankle. She yelped as she fell face first, but Gale was there in a beat, catching her before she hit the ground. The vine disappeared, leaving her clutching onto the front of Gale’s robes with his hands on her waist. 

“Careful there, Tav,” he chuckled, helping her stand up right again. His hands sat just below her waist, firmly grounding her. “Can’t have you losing your balance now of all times.”

His hands lingered a bit longer than they needed on her waist —long enough that when she did pull herself away, she saw the annoyance on Asterion's face. She wanted to scold the vampire —he couldn’t be jealous or annoyed that someone else was willing to touch her if he didn’t do it himself. Or when he was being an absolute menace towards her instead of helping. But instead she stood up straight and ignored him and Gale entirely, pushing forward to the monastery. 

“We should probably make camp,” Gale suggested as she and Karlach pressed on. “We need to rest if we’re going to get into the crèche without issue.”

“I hate it when he’s right,” Karlach snickered, elbowing Tav. 

The sorceress gasped some at the singeing of her robes, looking up at her companion for a moment. Karlach looked sorrowful, apologizing frantically. But Tav broke out into an easy smile. 

“Now I know how Astarion felt when I lit him on fire,” she laughed, looking at the burn hole in her side. “Hells, I guess we do need to set up —I can’t fight with this.”

“You certainly cannot compare your light burn to actually lighting me on fire,” Astarion sneered as he appeared at her side, eyeing the hole in her robes. 

“Well, I can. And I did.”

*****

“I’m not fixing that for you,” Astarion stated as he entered the tent that evening. 

Tav sat in her night clothes —something loose fitting and breezy, but easy to fight in if needed —with a needle and thread in her hand. She squinted with her good eye —the other having been stupidly (but voluntarily) replaced by the one Volo had when he tried to remove the parasite and thus felt too foreign to use still. 

“Why would you?”  She asked, threading the needle carefully. Her tone was curious, though her eyes were fixed on her task at hand. “Can you even sew?”

“Of course I can sew,” he sneered as he dropped down beside her, yanking the tool from her hand. “Unlike you.”

“Astarion, I don’t —,”

“Oh, be quiet.”

Tav grudgingly complied with his request, her irritation evident as she watched him work. However, as she observed Astarion's nimble fingers expertly maneuvering the needle, her annoyance gradually gave way to curiosity. She shifted in her seat, crossing her legs and leaning in closer, intrigued by his unexpected skill. Despite her initial skepticism, she found herself impressed by the effortless way he patched up the hole in her robes. There was a certain finesse to his movements, a hint of a life she couldn't quite grasp. It was as if he had once been accustomed to having others cater to his every need, yet now he was here, performing a task with a dexterity that surprised her.

“Where did you learn to sew?” She asked, watching curiously as his hands moved carefully but quickly around her clothes. 

“When you’re a slave for two hundred years, you learn a thing or two.”

She blanched, words caught in her throat at his comment. Of course he had to know how to take care of himself and his things; she hadn’t even considered that in her little judgmental tirade.

“Hells, I’m sorry —I shouldn’t have —I’m an idiot.” 

“You don’t need to apologize for something you weren’t even alive for,” he amended, though his eyes were fixed on her garments and he refused to look at her. “There’s plenty else for you to apologize for.”

Tav's brows furrowed as she mulled over Astarion's cryptic remark. Before she could press for clarification, he spoke again, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Though I must admit, it's quite the spectacle witnessing you and Gale, so cozy and chummy. Almost makes one wonder if there's more to your partnership than meets the eye. Or perhaps you're just practicing your innocent act for when you're not knee-deep in trouble," he quipped, a sly smirk playing on his lips as he finally glanced up to meet her gaze.

“Sweet hells,” she groaned, throwing her hands in the air. Tav's irritation flared at Astarion's insinuation, her eyes narrowing as she met his gaze head-on. "You know very well, Astarion, there's nothing between Gale and me," she retorted, her voice tinged with exasperation. "I've made it abundantly clear who I want in this camp, and it's not some imaginary love affair with Gale."

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, wondering why Astarion insisted on needling her about nonexistent romances when the truth of her feelings was plain for anyone with eyes to see. Yet, despite her frustration, she couldn't help but notice the slight tension in his posture, the way his gaze flickered away before returning to hers with a mixture of defiance and vulnerability.

“I told you the other night –it’s you,” she reminded him, taking the needle and clothes from his hands, forcing him to focus on her and her alone. “Whatever you want, whatever you decide —I promised you that –but you haven’t decided anything. You feed on me every night, we share your tent, you’re fixing my damn clothes –but you cannot be jealous of Gale putting his hands on me when you won’t.”

Something dangerous flashed in Astarion’s eyes at her scolding, and suddenly she was being shoved to the floor of the tent. She was pinned beneath Astarion, whose thighs caged her legs in while his arms trapped her from above. His face was close to hers, close enough that their noses barely brushed against one another. 

All the blood rushed straight between her thighs, heart racing against her rib cage as if trying to escape. For the first time since she met Astarion, she was seeing the spawn he was. 

And it was all too alluring. 

“Do you know why I haven’t touched you, Tav?” He asked, leaning in closer now. Baiting her, goading her into making the first move. But she shook her head, pressing herself further into the ground. “Because if I do, I will not stop.”

Clenching her thighs together, Tav couldn’t help the sound that escaped her lips –an almost lewd hum of desperation. Asterion's eyes were locked on hers, keeping her gaze from straying from the rubies that made up his irises. 

“What if,” she managed to breathe out, tentatively reaching up to touch his cheek. The danger that Astarion presented melted just barely at her touch, softened the edges of his eyes, as she finished, “I don’t want you to stop?”

It was a heartbeat later, if even, that his mouth was on hers, tongue parting her lips to taste her. Tav moaned into his mouth, her hands reaching up to pull at his silver hair and tug him even closer. She tried to part her legs, to wrap them around him, but he still caged her in and he wouldn’t budge as he pulled away from her mouth to trail his lips over her jaw. Across her cheek, under her ear, then down her throat —right over the only spot he had touched her in weeks: the bruised bite marks on her throat. 

Asterion's teeth grazed the spot, though he did not break the skin as she writhed under him. Her hands still had purchase in his hair as his tongue trailed down the column of her throat. 

“Astarion, please,” she sighed dreamily.

“Please, what, darling?” He asked, voice muffled slightly by the skin of her throat. “Use your words for me.”

“Just —touch me, please. Anywhere —everywhere —Gods, please.”

Finally, one of his hands pulled her leg out from between his thighs, spreading her so he could fit there instead. Without hesitation, she hiked her leg over his hip, pulling him closer to get whatever friction against her core that she could. The feeling of him pressed against her forced a hiss from her throat again. 

The hand that had pulled away was trailing up her leg now, over her knee and up her thigh. So close to where she wanted —where she needed him to touch. But instead, he continued upwards until his nails tugged at the laces of her pants and loosened them. She didn’t question the movement, instead lifting her hips and untangling herself briefly from him to shimmy her pants down and off.

“Eager little pup, aren’t we?” He teased as she finally let go of his hair to reach for his pants next. Astarion stopped her however, swatting her hand away. “Unfortunately, I want you bare before me first.” 

She huffed in frustration, but it was replaced by another sigh as he slipped his hand under her shirt, cold fingers brushing over her heated skin until he was pinching her taut nipple. Gods, she was thankful for the fact that she stopped wearing her undergarments to bed (entirely in case of a moment like this, if she was perfectly honest). 

But if he wanted her bare, then he would get just that —anything to get him to touch her more. And so she reached back down to the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, throwing it to the side. 

“Wait,” she breathed out, fingers stilling along the waistline of his pants. 

Astarion pulled back slightly, eyes darting between her hands and her face, frowning deeply. One of her hands reached up, resting against the pale skin of his chest. 

“I just —I need to know that you actually want this, Astarion,” she admitted, dropping her hand from his waistline, as if to show him she wasn’t moving forward without him. “I know that’s ridiculous and I’m already naked and you’re literally on top of me but —,”

She let out a surprised yelp when he kissed her again —but it was softer than before; careful. He didn’t deepen it, though, and instead pulled away just enough to look down at her once more. 

“How is it you care so much about what I want when you’re getting exactly what you want?” He whispered, nudging her nose with his.

“I told you, I want —,”

“Yes, yes —you want what I want —but do you know how annoyingly sweet you are? How you just…you ruined my plans and now you’re stopping me from giving you what you want because you care so damn much about what I want —,”

“Wait, what? What plans?” She interrupted, pushing herself away from him some, grabbing her shirt to try to cover herself up as she stared at him. 

Astarion sat back on his knees, pursing his lips some as he realized that he had given away more than he meant to. 

“I just —,” he hesitated a moment, looking down at his hands for a moment before shaking his head. “Look, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan  —seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you'd never turn on me. It was easy —instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do was not fall for you.”

“Astarion, what are —,”

“Shush,” he scolded, narrowing his eyes down at her as she sat up. “This is…this is where my nice, simple plan fell apart. Tav…you’re incredible. And you deserve something real.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, Tav clutching her shirt to her chest as she processed Asterion's confession. What it sounded like he was saying was that whatever this was —whatever was happening between them —wasn’t real. And that realization squeezed her heart tight in her chest as she started to put her clothes back on. 

The tent was suddenly too small; too cramped. She was overwhelmed and naive, just like he had thought weeks ago when they met. And she needed to get away from him as she tried to stand and hurry out. 

“I’m sorry, Astarion. I should have —I didn’t —,”

But he grabbed her wrist, quick to stand and pulled her back to him. 

“Tav, stop,” he demanded, though he didn’t sound all that convincing. “You deserve something real —I want us to be something real.”

Asterion's fingers flexed against her wrist, before he finally pulled her back into his embrace. Tentatively —almost timidly —he wrapped his arms around her waist and back, looking down at her with soft, crimson eyes. 

“I…I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, reaching up to brush her hair behind her ear. “I don’t know what comes next, or what to do. And the idea of…intimacy or sex, I don’t…I don’t know how to separate the good and the bad. But I know that…I want you. All of you.”

Tav's touch mirrored his, reaching up to run the back of her hand against his cheek. He melted into her touch, leaning into it as he closed his eyes. He was so vulnerable in this moment; the walls he had spent so long hiding behind were breaking down and Tav’s heart ached at the thought that he was scared of her —of her rejection, of her feelings. 

“I want you too, Astarion,” she promised, pressing her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and guiding him closer. Her nose brushed against his as he pressed his forehead against hers. “I don’t need to sleep with you to know I care about you. Whatever you need —however long you need —I can wait for you.”

His eyes searched hers, as if trying to catch a lie. While it hurt, not knowing if he truly believed her, she understood the fear. After everything he’d been through, there was more reason to assume the worst than not. 

“You are more than what your body can do,” she promised him, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. 

“I…,” he paused, swallowing down whatever he was going to say, before pulling away. “I’m afraid I may have ruined the mood, darling.”

She waved off his concern, laughing at the idea. “The only mood I’m in is for a cuddle. How does that sound?”

Astarion smiled —a real, soft smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes —and he nodded. “A cuddle…sounds nice, actually.”

Tav grinned up at him before pulling away from his embrace –not enough to stop touching him; her fingers trailed down his arm until they latched onto his fingers –so she could take over his spot on the pillows he’d piled up. Although hesitant, Astarion slowly joined her in the mess of pillows, about to lay back when she pulled him into her arms. He seemed surprised by the notion that she would be holding him and not the other way around, but he didn’t argue as she wound one arm around him and held him close to her chest. The other found his hair, running her nails over his scalp and she swore he purred at the touch. She’d keep that in mind.

Melting into her embrace, Asterion's arms wrapped around her middle, holding her tight against him as if she would disappear. What she would give to be able to read his thoughts in this moment; to know if he felt safe like this; if he felt loved like this. Because that's what she wanted –to give him that safety, that love that he so desperately wanted; that he deserved.

Perhaps he heard her thoughts himself, because as she drifted off into a restful sleep, she heard him murmur into her skin,

“Thank you.”

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion ancunin #astarion #astarion bg3

[amethysts-tavern]

A Moment of Magic.

Gale’s Weave scene with Tav from his POV, ‘cause why not?

Gender neutral, good-aligned, red-headed bard Tav.

______

You catch a glimpse of Tav from across the campsite. Gods, they’re beautiful. You can’t help but notice how the firelight shines off their auburn locks and gives their cheeks a warm glow. They were smiling at something Karlach had said, playfully swatting at the fiery tiefling.

You had asked Tav to join you tonight after dinner. Maybe it will bring the two of us closer together. But to what end? You had been smitten with Tav from the moment your hands touched while you were on the other side of the malfunctioning portal - the gentle way their fingers grasped yours - then the way they cocked their head and smiled softly as you introduced yourself. As the days progressed, your affections for them only grew when you learned more about their kind nature, their eagerness to help those in need, and their fierce loyalty to their friends.

Maybe this whole idea is silly. It’s not like there can be any real future between us, seeing as I might explode at any moment. And what if they don’t feel the same? Am I prepared to feel that rejection again so soon?

Truthfully, it had been over a year since you and Mystra had called it quits, but sometimes it felt like yesterday. You missed her. Or rather, you missed what she represented to you. Calling up an illusion of her visage, you feel a momentary calm, only to be shaken from your reverie when Tav approaches.

“She’s pretty,” Tav says from somewhere behind you.

“Oh you startled me. I was miles away,” you reply, dismissing the illusion and feeling a bit embarrassed that you were caught looking at images of your ex-lover in front of the one you hoped to someday be a current lover.

You begin to tell Tav what magic means to you. How it’s everything you’ve ever known, ever wanted, and ask if they are interested in experiencing some of it for themself. They agree! You show them an easy spell - dancing lights. Really anyone could perform this spell with the right tutelage, but you’re hoping that Tav doesn’t know that. You watch and laugh inwardly as they over-perform the somatic components. But smile as their lips wrap around the words of the verbal component of the spell, breathing life into the magic. Finally, you ask them to look within themself and picture the concept of harmony (that should be easy for them, seeing as they’re a bard). And their dancing lights begin to take shape - a twinkling glow in the dusk of night. You feel the Weave surrounding you both and you wonder what it feels like for them. For you channeling the Weave was always accompanied with scents of warm spices like cinnamon and cloves with a just hint of citrus and a sense of peaceful serenity unlike anything you’ve ever experienced outside of the Weave. Almost like a homecoming.

Tav steps back from their conjured lights and brushes into your hand with theirs. Accidentally, or on purpose, you’re not sure, but your heartbeat picks up as the Weave connects you. It’s intimate, like you’ve always known it to be. And now you are sharing it with Tav. You can sense their emotions, you can feel their deepest desires. All they have to do is share them.

There are no words needed as Tav shares a thought of tenderly kissing you, which leads to a more passionate kiss. Your eyes grow wide at the idea. Have they seen through my ruse to bring them over here? But what about the orb? But… oh! What a glorious thought this is! Maybe we can find a way to make this work… but don’t get ahead of yourself, Gale. You don’t want to detonate all over them!

“I wasn’t expecting…” you start. “But it is a pleasant image to be sure! Most pleasant. Most welcome,” you say, as your gaze into their eyes intensifies. But just as quickly as it enveloped you, you begin to feel the Weave evaporate around you, wisping off into nothingness. “Oh, there it goes. How easily things slip away from us, no matter how hard they were in the obtaining.”

You wish you could share more with this lovely creature who stands before you. More of the Weave, more of you, more of those intimate thoughts. But you know that you must call it a night and ponder the future. You have to ask yourself if it’s worth telling Tav how desperately you crave the kisses they envisioned. It wouldn’t be fair to them to start a relationship tonight when you could be gone tomorrow. So instead, you step back and bid them a good night. There would be more discussion in the morning… but tonight, you will sleep with your thoughts full of the lovely auburn-haired bard on the other side of the camp.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale romance #bg3 gale #gale x reader

[elspethdekarios]

Faerûnian 29 Day Writing Challenge: Day 11

A little late on this, but I'm such a sucker for a bath scene.

Slightly NSFW - Nothing explicit, brief mentions of nudity

Feb 11. Taking a bath together

Gale x Female OC

(At a lovely inn halfway between Baldur’s Gate and Waterdeep. Gale and Elspeth have stopped to stay the night, splurging on a nice suite.)

Candlelight flickers across the table, plates picked clean and goblets drained. It’s the best meal they’ve had since being kidnapped by the Nautiloid. 

“So,” El says, hand resting on her full belly, “is this our official first date?”

Gale smiles at her.

“I suppose it is. But–I want to do it properly when we get to Waterdeep. Like we talked about in Rivington, remember?”

“I do. Hundur sauce and all.”

“You’ll love it,” he says. “And you’ll love Tara, too. I know she can be a bit… protective over me. But she’ll warm up to you, once she sees how deeply you care for me. It’s all she’s ever wanted for me.”

His eyes get a bit watery at that statement. The immense amount of awe he has for Elspeth can hardly be contained. He looks at her like she’s the entire universe.

“I can’t wait to get there,” El responds. “To see it in person. To see how your cooking skills in a kitchen compare to that of over a campfire.”

“Prepare to be impressed,” he smirks. 

A waiter comes to the table and stacks the dishes in midair with a flick of their hand. “Anything else for the lovely couple?”

“No, thank you,” El says, pulling out her coin purse.

“Oh, no–it’s on the house,” the waiter says. “Word gets around. We know you’re the heroes of Baldur’s Gate! The heroes of Faerûn!”

“Are you sure?” she asks. “I have gold–at least let me tip you.”

The waiter shakes their head as they walk away, dishes floating beside them.

“You’ve already saved our lives. Thank you, thank you both.”

Elspeth looks at Gale with raised eyebrows. He looks just as taken aback.

“Can’t say I’ve ever had that happen before,” he says as they get up from the table. The inn isn’t crowded, but they can feel the eyes and excited whispers of the patrons around the room. El puts a handful of coins down for the staff despite their protests.

“I think I’m going to write to Karlach,” El says. Ever since Wyll took Karlach back to Avernus, Elspeth hasn’t been able to shake a sense of complicated guilt. Karlach didn’t want to go back, but she didn’t want to die either. At least this way, they can work on a fix for her engine–a topic that has passed many of the hours of Elspeth and Gale’s journey to Waterdeep. Gale plans to do extensive research into infernal materials when they get there.

“Send her my love,” he says as they approach the stairs. “You know what? I noticed the barkeep’s extensive spirit selection earlier. How about I grab us a nightcap? Ever had Waterdhavian whiskey?” 

“Can’t say I have.”

“Well, maybe you shall try it tonight, if they have it. You go ahead. I’ll be up shortly.” He kisses her before they part.

Elspeth sits at the intricately-carved desk in their suite, quill in hand, now on page three of her letter to Karlach. She has no idea how much time has passed, but Gale still isn’t back, so it can’t have been terribly long. Her hand is starting to hurt–she hasn’t written much in the past few months. Rolling and massaging her wrist, she rises from the desk with a stretch and plops down on the bed. This is the softest mattress she’s felt in months. The Elfsong’s beds weren’t bad, not at all, but this one feels like floating on clouds, all the tension in her back fading away as she melts into the pristine white duvet. The suite is large, and includes a living area at the entrance, a small hallway leading to a magnificent bathroom, and the bedroom. The windows are draped with sheer lilac curtains that almost sparkle in the moonlight. Every piece of soft furniture is white, and all the wood is a dark-stained oak, most containing beautiful patterned carvings like that on the desk. The sheets are lined with a purple silk, the same material as the canopy that drapes around the four-poster bed. It reminds her of the bed Gale conjured up during their first night together, and she smiles.

“Hello,” she hears an uncanny Gale-like voice say. “I’m here on behalf of Gale of Waterdeep.”

Gale’s projection glows violet in front of her.

“Hello. Where is Gale?”

“That is precisely the reason I am here. He would like me to inform you of a most splendid surprise that he has been preparing, and apologizes for the delay in his return. Please meet him in the suite bathroom at your earliest convenience.”

“The bathroom?” El repeats.

“Yes. The bathroom.”

“Okay,” she says to the specter. “Thank you.”

“You are most welcome,” says Fake-Gale before disappearing from sight, leaving a faint glow in its place. 

Elspeth smiles to herself and shakes her head at Gale’s grandiose gestures. Leave it to Gale to send an astral projection of himself to deliver a message to the next room over. He’s over the top in every sense of the phrase, and she wouldn’t change a thing.

As El approaches the bathroom down the hall, the air becomes humid and warm, clouds of steam spilling from beneath the door. Inside, the steam envelops her in a cloud of lavender, warm like a blanket fresh from a hearth. Through the fog, she is reflected by two large, silver filigree-framed mirrors on either side of the room, each next to a marble washing bowl and cabinet. Soft music plays from an enchanted lyre. There are candles burning, their flame a blurred light in the mist. An enormous clawfoot tub of sterling takes up the majority of the far wall, an arched window above it, where the moonlight shines perfectly onto the bath, and upon Gale’s face within it.

He is sunken up to his neck, his head resting on the edge, his eyes closed. Soapy foam floats on the surface, some sticking to his beard.

“I’ve been dreaming of this since the day we fell out of that nautiloid,” he says when the door clicks shut behind her. “Gods, there are few things as pleasurable as soaking one’s tired limbs in a hot bath.”

“I can think of a few,” she says as she steps closer, perching on the edge of the tub. He pulls his hand out of the water, taking hers. His skin is steaming hot against her cold fingers.

“As can I.”

“So the whiskey was just a ruse?” she teases, scooping up a dollop of bubbles on her finger and flicking it at him.

“Only partly,” he laughs, and reaches behind him to a stool with a bottle, a bucket of ice, and two glasses. He pours them both a drink, and they gently clink their glasses together in cheers. 

After a sip, Elspeth places her glass on the stool and begins unbuttoning her pale pink robe. Gale watches her, slowly sipping his whiskey. She shrugs the robe off her shoulders and it falls to the ground. She does the same with her linen slip, sliding the straps off and exposing her bare breasts before letting it fall on top of the robe. At the sight of her in only her bottoms, Gale reaches out a hand and hooks his thumb under the waistband, pulling them down on the side before she slides them down her legs. She steps out of them and into the bath.

He’s right. There are few things as pleasurable as the weightlessness of a bath, especially after traversing half the continent and sleeping on a bedroll for months. She lets out a sigh before settling in opposite him. He hands her the whiskey glass again. Under the water, his legs rest on either side of her body. She stretches out her legs on top of his, his free hand caressing down her calf, her ankle, her foot, and back up again before resting on her knee.

“Finish your letter?” he asks.

“Not yet,” she says, taking a sip of her drink. “I want to get my feelings out, but I don’t want her to feel burdened by them. I just want her to know I’m thinking about her constantly. I wish we could just sit and have a chat whenever we wanted to, like we’ve been able to until now.” Another sip. “I have so much to say. I wish I could say it in person.”

“You will one day.”

“I know.”

“We’ll find a fix. If I can’t find it, I have connections in Waterdeep, and you in Baldur’s Gate. Dammon is still searching, too. We’ll find something.”

El nods solemnly.

“I’ll do everything I possibly can,” he says, giving her knee a quick squeeze. “I swear it. Together, we’ll figure it out. We always do.”

“I have to believe that,” she declares to herself mostly, leaning back to rest her head on the lip of the tub. 

“Look at what we just did, El,” Gale says with his usual excitement and ambition. “Defeated an army. Defeated the Elder Brain. Saved the world–quite literally.”

He leans forward and looks deeply into her eyes. The bottom half of his hair is wet, and it clings to his neck and shoulders.

“If we can do all of that and live to tell the tale, we can certainly fix Karlach’s heart. I’m sure of it.”

Their bodies meet in the middle of the tub and Elspeth kisses him softly.

“Trust me,” he whispers into her ear.

“I do,” she breathes. “I’d trust you with the entire world.”

Gale grabs her drink and places their empty glasses outside of the tub before laying back and pulling her into him, soapy water sloshing with the weight of their bodies. Elspeth shivers at the cool air touching her wet skin.

“Are you chilly?” Gale asks. “The heat’s evaporated a bit.”

She nods and settles her head into his chest.

“Oh dear, we can’t have the hero of Baldur’s Gate catching a cold, can we?”

After giggling and rolling her eyes, El sees Gale’s hands glowing bright orange, and feels the water gradually getting hot again.

“Is this what they teach you in wizard school?”

“No,” he laughs. “No, I figured this one out on my own.” 

Gale pulls her into him, needing to feel closer than physically possible. The way they bond together in the Weave is the only way that urge to feel transfused into each other can be scratched. 

“Crushing… me…” El struggles to spit out the words as her face is squished more and more into his chest. He gives one more good squeeze before loosening his grip.

“Sorry.”

They take turns washing each others’ hair–first El, squeezing behind him in the tub, dipping his head into the water before massaging his scalp with shampoo from one of the fancy bottles he’s laid out nearby. He practically melts into her touch, his eyes closed, so relaxed it looks as if he might fall asleep.

“We can do this anytime once we get home,” he mumbles as she works the soap through his hair.

“You have a bathtub like this?”

“Slightly bigger than this, but yes.”

“Of course you do.”

“You know me,” he chuckles. “I can’t wait to get you there.”

She presses a quick kiss to his forehead as she lowers his head back to the water. “I can’t wait to be there.”

They switch positions, El settling between Gale’s legs as he repeats the routine–scrubbing, rinsing, untangling. It takes longer to wash her waist-length hair than it does Gale’s shoulder-length hair, but he doesn’t mind. He makes sure to rinse every last section before pulling her into his arms again.

She snuggles her head into the space between his neck and shoulder, Gale running his fingers through the golden-white hair flowing gracefully just below the surface of the water. 

“Like ribbons of starlight,” he muses, mostly to himself.

They lie in serenity until Elspeth drifts off into sleep. He stays awake, stroking her hair, admiring her courage, her beauty. Taking comfort in her soft snores against his skin. This is love, he realizes. True love–not whatever cheap imitation he had with Mystra, and certainly not any of the short-lived relationships he’d had in the past. Elspeth has seen his heart, the generous good and the self-destructive bad, and she’s never strayed from him. Never even hesitated. Once she told him she’d love him just as much if he had no magic at all. How could he have possibly gotten so lucky? To be kidnapped, tadpoled, wrecked on unfamiliar land, stuck in a portal–and the person who happens to find you and pull you out also happens to be your soulmate? He didn’t even believe in soulmates before meeting El. He never even thought Mystra was his soulmate–it simply is a concept that never truly occurred to him before now. He’s never believed in fate, but their serendipitous meeting is enough to at least make him question that.

He keeps the water hot until El starts to wake. She lifts her head and rubs her eyes before laying back down on his chest.

“Ready to get out, my love?”

She nods and rests her chin on his shoulder before lifting herself up to a seated position.

“Wait here,” Gale says as he stands up from the water and steps out of the tub. His barely-defined abs catch the moonlight. He dries himself off with a towel and wraps it around his waist before grabbing one for El. Flinging it over his shoulder, he reaches out both hands to help her stand up and step over the edge. He wraps the towel around her and picks her up in his arms, walking to the bedroom. He places her tenderly on the soft duvet, pulling it back for her to nestle underneath before climbing in on the other side and pulling her close to him. The candles have burned down, the only light coming from the moon as they drift off to sleep.

#my writing #bg3ficfeb #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #gale fic #bg3 gale #gale x oc #gale x tav #gale bg3 #gale romance #elspeth

[bhaalbaaby]

Stories of first kisses for your oc's and their partners; and their first shared kiss(es) with your oc's and their partners, presuming they're different.

I'll do Penelope because I feel like even though she's romantically involved with only Astarion and Shadowheart, she probably kissed everyone lol I'll go in chronological order for all the people within BG3-verse that she's kissed

Gortash - Her first grown-up kiss. She wanted fireworks and the promised passion, but it was okay. It was very obvious that she didn't know what she was doing, but followed his lead. Turns out practicing on her hand and quick pecks with random street urchins is not the same as the real thing.

Kaine/Durge - It's very quick when he's leaving after another session of just talking and flirting. She doesn't want to wait until their first full session, whenever that will be, and takes a chance kissing him as he says goodbye. It catches him off guard, grabbing her closer to kiss her hard. When he pulls away, he promises next time they will do more than parting kisses.

Lae'zel - She's never been around a Githyanki before and decided to try Lae'zel out since Penelope is used to being a sub in relationships anyway. It was passionate and hard, rougher than Penelope would have liked for the first time, with too many teeth and biting. She left it at that kiss.

Gale - Penelope picks up that Gale would be easiest to manipulate by being sweet to him. During their first few nights, they share a tent because she could not set hers up by herself and just "kept forgetting" to get help. On the second night, when she wants to test this theory, she pushes her body against his and kisses him before they go to bed. He pointedly sleeps with his back towards her to not cause any stress on his body and also gets Wyll to help him set up her tent the next day.

Astarion - Their first kiss comes after his first bite, bloodlust clouding their thoughts. She's already pent up, but the closeness of their bodies brings her closer to some sort of release. The taste of blood is new on her lips, but she doesn't mind it being in his arms just a little bit longer.

Karlach - Penelope is so curious about Karlach and her energy and is on the same page as Shadowheart, with Karlach being able to toss her around. She, however, keeps to her reservations once she finds out more about her past, especially with Gortash. Their first kiss is fast and hot, leaving Penelope's lips singed but wanting more.

Shadowheart - She's only had butterflies a few times in her life, but any time she spends around Shadowheart, she gets nervous and only has thoughts ranging from sweet stolen kisses to lewd actions she wishes they could do. Their first kiss is sweetened by the wine from the Tiefling party inhibitions lowered while the party lulls.

Wyll - They kiss after they dance the night away, hearts racing. Her hands rest on his chest, feeling it flutter in his rib cage. His kiss is soft and tender, with reservations underneath. She pulls away first, brushing her thumb over his full lips. She thanks him for the kiss and the dance but breaks it off, knowing what he wants is more than what she will ever be able to give anyone.

Halsin - They kiss during the celebration at Moonrise, fumbling to move on to the next part before the night ends. She has been curious about him and has wanted to climb like a tree ever since he joined. He kisses her as if she is all the air he needs, all his prayers answered, at least until the morning.

Minthara - Penelope is surprised Minthara approaches her, but after some mind-melding and heart-to-hearts and cursing their enemies, they kiss under the moon, swearing they will prevail and kill Gortash and Orin together.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 tav #baldurs gate 3 #tav: penelope #oc musings #penelope x gortash #tavtash #penelope x kaine #tav: kaine #penelope x laezel #penelope x gale #penelope x wyll #penelope x astarion #penelope x shadowheart #penelope x halsin #penelope x minthara #asks #writing

[spacemonkeysalsa]

BG4 brainstorm

I know they've already got a bunch of it written and outlined or whatever, but I can't turn my brain off, so I'm just going to talk exclusively about the way in which I'd like to see BG3 characters and events incorporated into BG4, if they are even going to do that-

First off there's-

The Stuff That Doesn't Need To Come Up In The Narrative Right Away But Let's Establish The Underlying Assumptions Shall We?:

The white dragon born dark urge managing to overcome Bhaal and defeat the elderbrain, in the end, but with a somewhat uneven series of good and bad choices at their back.

Minthara is probably dead, though I’d love it if she was still around and you absolutely can get away with that, narratively, thanks to the patches.

On the other side, Halsin, Dame Aylin and Isobel are probably alive.

Astarion and Gale are both alive and may or may not be the god/godlike versions of themselves.

Karlach and Wyll are alive and still in Avernus together (unless the DLC drops and we have Blade of Avernus/Fixing Karlach's engine adventures between the games) not explicitly as a couple though, I'd leave that ambiguous.

Lae’zel and Shadowheart are in love (this is both the most specific my post-headcanon gets, and entirely non-negotiable) but spend a lot of time apart because of respective responsibilities. Lae’zel can be a diplomat or a freedom fighter, but Shadowheart is a Selunite living with her parents on a farm and overcoming her fear of wolves by also raising some wolves alongside her adopted Githyanki son.

What Larian did with legacy characters from the earlier game was smart, in that they didn’t overuse them or reveal too many details about what they’d been doing in the interim, so like, we’ll keep it basic, leave a lot up to the imagination, but the writing around their appearances and roles in the story would match the above info.

Starting with origin characters, I think there’s potential to include familiar faces.

First Familiar Face - Githyanki egg all grown up. He shouldn’t be called Ptaris, because this is kind of assuming that the path where he ends up with that name doesn’t happen. For now, I’m just going to call him Egg, as I can sort of imagine Lae’zel using it as a slightly mocking but ultimately affectionate nickname, and miss “I picked my own name” maybe sort of leaving it up to him.

Egg - as I would write him, would have spent some time on the astral plane, like one of his moms and so his age is kind of a ??? because time is different there, and Egg would have also spent some time living with one of his moms on the farm. There’s sort of an obvious characterization available here. Where does he belong? Who are his people, really? You could write him confused and conflicted, or you could take the route I like and say that he was raised by the two most perfect people to help him understand that. He has his half-elf mother’s compounding knowledge of temperance between seemingly conflicted forces, and disparate elements, and his githyanki mother made sure he grew up confident and sure of himself and proud of his incredibly unique heritage. Also, these two states of mind aren’t totally mutually exclusive, cognitive dissonance is a major part of life, and an appropriate coming of age theme. I already love Egg. In keeping with the idea of temperance, I’d put him firmly in the true neutral category.

Second Familiar Face - Mol. Like. Just give me more Mol. What a great character, I’m so stoked imagining her grown up. I would write her as our team warlock, even if Raphael has been eaten by Mephistopheles. She can still do eldritch blast and the works ever since her pact with him. She’s pretty concerned that the implications of this are that Meph is her true fount now, and she wonders if he knows, or if there’s some small bit of his power he’s not aware is being lent out to her, and what he’ll do if he ever learns of her existence. She keeps these worries close to the chest though, instead projecting nonchalance that comes off as careless and callous during the earlier parts of the story, before she opens up. Probably neutral evil.

Third Familiar Face - Arabella. I’d make her so, so weird. Her magic is druidic, so she’s probably our druid, but you could easily get away with sorcerer or a secret third thing and I wouldn’t be mad. As a fully grown woman she speaks with the annoying esoteric air of a dryad and personifies inanimate objects, and is constantly carrying on conversations with animals when left to her own devices. She and Mol do not get along anymore, though they still care a lot about each other and there should be some cuteness about their history and childhood as buddies and little lost refugees together. Chaotic good.

I think you could get away with including all three in the main party, even early game, but I wouldn’t do more than that. New original characters are potentially more important and I would have the plot and the bones of the game be more closely tied to these totally new faces rather than relying on sequel energy. Even if all three games exist in the same universe and share themes, elements, and some characters, they don’t really feel like direct sequels and I think that’s a good thing. The only reason I think you can get away with using these three kids from the third game like this is because as adults, they’ll be completely different people, to the point that the story would have to reintroduce them anyway. The fact that they have any connections to the events of the past games doesn’t even really need to be explored beyond the kind of high-level backstory stuff that affected everyone in the world:

Arabella: “Remember when Baldur’s Gate almost got destroyed by an Elder Brain?”

Mol: “Yeah, that was wild.”

Egg: “No, I was there, but I hadn’t hatched yet.”

Mol: “HOW OLD ARE YOU?”

Egg: “Ugh, it’s complicated.”

I would probably continue with the often fun but at times vaguely serious “kill all the gods and masters” themes from previous games, and use this as a way to get everyone into hell for a portion of the game to go toe-to-toe with some archdevils, and also as an excuse to get Karlach and Wyll in the game (it's hard for me to get too much into this idea tbh, because I'm still hopeful that they'll be lvl13-20 dlc that involves Avernus, in which case, all of this is resolved and idk where to go from here with those two as I'm sure it would be affected a lot by how all that theoretical dlc content turns out, and I'm like so invested in going to Avernus with Wyll and Karlach).

And, Legacy character time!

Lae’zel I think could be our Jaheira analog, meaning she’s a previous origin character who I think could join the main team and be a party member for a chunk of the game without breaking anything. I would keep it until later though, but make it about as simple as recruiting Jaheira, in that it feels almost compulsory if you just follow a common path and progress the game.

Shadowheart would work nicely as our Minsc analog, in that she could be introduced as a very late game party character, essentially starting off as a lvl 12 cleric of light, as Selune intended, and I would make her recruitment more complicated and involve a side-quest. A rough idea for that side-quest would be trying to successfully get a message to Selunite allies, asking for aid. If you manage to meet the requirements and your messenger isn’t killed—and I think it would be fun if there was some randomness to it, like maybe a background constitution check that just mysteriously triggers when you cross into a certain area, and if it passes, it means your messenger (wherever they are) safely made it, and if it fails, they didn’t. So, I would let Shadowheart have a big damn hero moment and ride into a battle (on the back of one her wolves, why not) and join in the fight as an unexpected ally. From a play testing point of view, it would be especially fun to set up a certain fight so that waves of enemies arrive, and there’s a point where most people get overwhelmed and that’s when she shows up. But, for extra complication, if you don’t have Lae’zel or Egg with you at the time, she shows up for the one battle, saves your ass, then fights you if you’re responsible for either of their deaths, and if they are in your party, then you have to pass the roll, and play the whole thing for family drama.

Gale and Astarion, if you wanted to go with their bad endings, then Gale becoming and god and Astarion ascending would be the canon and there’s a lot to work with. Or, if you wanted to go with the good ending, then Gale is professor Dekarios and Astarion would either be an adventurer or leading the spawn in the Underdark. Professor Dekarios could easily just be a helpful mentor-type. His participation in shenanigans can be limited to a side quest or two, an Elminster/Volo like series of cameos etc. He’s a good adventurer when he has to be, but it’s not really where his heart is and we always knew that. He’s a wizard in his tower/in the classroom, but sure, he’ll lend a helping hand as he still remembers how valuable a service that can be. As a silly goose, I’m tempted to write a Volo/Elminster/Gale scene that involves all three of them very wine drunk and arguing about something absolutely no one else could hope to understand.

God Gale I can’t resist making him one of the baddies. It’s sad, but it feels appropriate. If he’s now the god of ambition then he failed to learn a pretty fundamental lesson during the course of BG3, and Tav/Durge who didn’t help him out with that failed and should feel bad. Offense absolutely intended. The logical conclusion is that Gale has become exactly the sort of god that once threatened and made his life miserable, especially since his antagonism towards Mystra with this ending seems to just be couched in pure unexamined hurt, and pettiness rather than a real understand that even as one of the “good gods” she wronged him, and she was wrong from the beginning and that there might just be something inherently bad about having and wielding this kind of power, at all.

He doesn’t get that, but it’s a bit due to wilful ignorance, I think, so I’d continue that and I wouldn’t make Gale knowingly the big bad. it just doesn't fit his character. You have a mortal avatar/chosen, some very ambitious enemy who Gale is helping, without a clear understanding of exactly what kind of schemes he’s backing. He’s too removed to really understand that he fucked up, and by the time he figures it out, it’s too late. Necessarily, his presence like this would be minimal, maybe we don’t even know for sure that he’s involved in any capacity until quite late, and even then, I’d make getting an actual appearance from the guy, pretty hard fought.

Astarion would be our other antagonist, and I think you can get away with going in any of the three different routes with him (Ascended, Spawn Adventurer, Spawn Dad) and make him an antagonist regardless. It would more be a matter of setting, do you want a quest in a big gothic castle or at a fancy party? A totally new location where he can turn up unexpectedly? The underdark? Setting might be the deciding factor, but his behavior and his role in the story could more or less follow the same pattern because the degrees of difference in his personality as ascendant/spawn are workable. That’s the thing about being a neutral evil aligned character—it’s maybe the broadest category as far as D&D character rep goes. He can get away with doing basically anything and still remain in that alignment because it takes an extreme act of unhinged evil to shift his alignment towards chaos, and anything good he does can still be dismissed as a cheap “pet the dog” moment by everyone who is unwilling to admit that he might have some capacity for redemption in him.

I would not make him a big bad antagonist though, because why would he ever bother, what’s actually in it for him? And I would want to create a route where he can join your side, but I wouldn’t have him join the camp/party in a permanent sense, at most you could do a Dame Aylin thing and keep him around and available for additional dialogue, a later quest or two.

In any case, even at his most antagonistic, Astarion isn’t truly ambitious. In BG3 he’ll ascend if he gets the chance, he'll try and run the city as long as the network is all in place already and it's not too much work, but he was never going to go out of his way to set all that up and he’ll settle. You could easily tie his story together with God Gale, if you wanted. “Ambition gets you stabbed to death by your spawn—of course none of this shit was my idea! I didn’t have a choice!” He was always quite good at delivering overdramatic ( but more often than people want to admit, totally valid) justifications for his behaviour, so I’d use that again, to utilize him to his maximum anti-hero/anti-villain potential.

He’d make a great red herring villain in the story, like let everything—including his old allies—think that he’s some mastermind (and let bg3 fans freak out a little that they've characterized him wrong), or that he’s more involved and more willing than he actually is. Then story beats slowly reveal that he’s a smaller level antagonist, pressed into the service of the bigger bad by circumstances/fear/whatever. It brings back bad memories. He’s pissed about it actually, doesn’t want to be doing any of this, has maybe been planning his own escape/betrayal for a while now. The player can ignore all that and just kill him here, or they can help him and see where things go if you give him a chance to ally with you against your common enemy. Fans can then continue their very stupid argument about whether he’s a hero or a villain, and we know that arguing is what truly makes them happy, so everyone wins.

A possible later quest could tie with Mol, if Astarion is the vampire ascendant, because in that scenario they are both in a weird ambiguous state where Mephistopheles is maybe their master or maybe not? D&D lore arguments continue?

Doing all of this would obviously be a lot, but I'd be thrilled if some version of any one of these ideas appeared in bg4. Assuming, I ever stop playing bg3 long enough to get trully invested in bg4 eventual existence.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 4 #bg4 #bg3 astarion #bg3 karlach #bg3 wyll #bg3 lae'zel #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 mol #bg3 arabella #githyanki egg #bg3 gale

[blackjackkent]

We do not deserve Karlach, y'all.

Hector went over to talk to her after all the business with Elminster, since he's rapidly growing to find her conversation very comforting and this situation has him very upset.

"Aw, was that Gale's granddad?!" she asks cheerfully, which is adorable.

This gets a little smile out of Hector in spite of himself. "That was Elminster Aumar, the most famous wizard in the realms."

Karlach considers this for a moment. "Huh. Doesn't ring a bell. But all right! Must've had something important to say to Gale, if he came all this way. Good news, I hope!"

Hector's smile fades and he shakes his head. "I...don't think it was," he says, and the steady tone he was able to keep up in front of the wizards fades; his voice trembles a little. "It turns out Gale has an explosive bomb in his chest - and Mystra has asked him to use it to blow up the heart of the Absolute."

Karlach's eyes shoot wide open. "Whoa now. He's got a--" She pauses, considers. Hector wonders if she is thinking of her own mechanical heart and its everpresent, nearly-explosive heat. "Well, I guess that would explain a little, but... Mystra... I mean, this is a lot to take in." She frowns, visibly upset. "What's he going to do?"

Hector sighs heavily. "I'm not sure," he says after a long pause. "I think he's of several minds." Or at least Hector deeply hopes he is. They talked, after Elminster left; Gale was very unreceptive to the idea that there might be any other option. If there was, he said, I'm sure the goddess of magic and the greatest wizard who ever lived would have identified it.

Maybe he's right. But maybe...maybe there is some other way.

Karlach's jaw sets stubbornly and she crosses her arms. "Well, tell him to pick the right one! Better yet, I'll do it. Fucking wizards, man! They always need help picking the simple, obvious option." She jabs a finger pointedly at Hector's chest. "If Mystra can't think of another way to stop the Absolute than sacrificing Gale, she's no god worth worshipping. I'll say that to Gale - in, you know, gentle terms."

This is...very heavy talk to give to a man who has spent his whole life in cloistered service to a goddess himself. In fact it edges on blasphemy. But...there is nothing he can do about the fact that he absolutely agrees with her. Gale can't be allowed to kill himself for the goddess that turned her back on him, not if they can find any other way around it.

Yet again, as always, he walks away from Karlach's tent feeling heartened, feeling as if he is not alone.

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle #i love her so freaking much

[darksunrising]

Bard On Bard Violence (4/?)

Masterlist of the Echoes of Faerûn Series

× × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × ×

Rating / Warnings : Mature audiences.

Fandom, Pairing : Baldur's Gate III, Raphael x Tav (focus), Astarion x Tav (background)

Author’s notes : The contract is about to arrive, and most likely with it, Raphael's first demands...

× × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × ×

Days have passed since Echo’s last seen Raphael, and he’s been careful not to mention him at any point during that time, like words or thought alone would be able to summon him. They’ve set up a more permanent camp around the city, in the meantime, and managed to kill a (fake) clown, get involved in half Rivington’s issues, and not yet tried to pass the very well-guarded gates to the lower city, still debating wether to deceive or fight their way in. Echo’s been rather silent on the subject, the annonced date of Enver Gortash’s “coronation” as archduke of Baldur’s Gate weighing on him every passing day like one more anchor to his ankles as he wades deeper into water.

Really, he shouldn’t even have had the time to think about the Cambion. And yet, he’s found himself fiddling with the pick absent-mindedly, wondering, expecting the contract in his tent any day. He’s been... Distracted, and Astarion has definitely noticed, talking more than usual and leaving him a bit less space. Not that he minds, he enjoys the extra contact, and doesn’t even make the connexion with Raphael until Astarion mentions, offhandedly, how much that wretched Devil is making them wait.

“I assume he’s busy”, Echo says, matching his tone. “Or fucking with us.”

Astarion scoffs. “We have been nothing but obliging to that Devil, nevermind the fact that he came to us- well, you”, he corrects with a handwave, though that did prompt a soft little smile on Echo’s face. There’s something oddly comforting, to hear he’s considering them as a unit, even in that context.

“I assume infernal calligraphy takes a while”, he muses, gently plucking the strings to his bouzouki to tune it. Astarion has a little indignant huff, and presses a kiss to Echo’s temple, right beneath the start of his horns.

“I would like to be fixated on it sooner rather than later. I’m quite sure that fiend will send us a fifty-foot long scroll that will take me hours to check, and the wait is turning my hair grey”, he sighs, dramatically.

“Well, I certainly could not stand to see your hair defaced in such a way”, Echo replies, a little smile floating on his lips as he starts his warmup exercises. He’s been more and more diligent about improving his dexterity in that manner, ever since he’s noticed using a rapier had made him more stiff, and set slight tremors in his hands. He’d gone to Halsin to craft a soothing balm for his aching tendons, and the druid had been nothing but helpful, even nearly completely displacing the back pains he’d been plagued with for a while with just a few presses of his large hands along his spine. Astarion had teased him to the Hells and back with the noises that it took out of him, and ended up asking Halsin for the same treatment five minutes after that.

Living with all their companions, more than a necessity brought by their situation, had become quite pleasant. Echo never really had such a close relationship with... Well, anyone in his life before then, if you discounted his previous patron. He’d find himself discussing visiting Waterdeep with Gale, or starting a World Tour with Karlach, when she said she wanted to see “everything”. Accepting Raphael’s deal, making himself a better asset to protect them all, was the easiest decision in the world.

The sun was already low on the horizon, and nothing of note happened between then and nightfall, besides Gale nearly burning dinner after an interestingly out-of-character salacious joke from Wyll at his expense. Astarion got his own dinner later, sneaking into Echo’s tent like everyone in camp wasn’t well aware of their arrangement, and pouncing on the pretend-asleep tiefling. His arms circle his waist, pulling his back to his chest with a hand pressed to his heart, already feeling the tremors of barely contained laughter as he does.

“I wouldn’t giggle so much if I were you, my darling”, the Vampire whispers to Echo’s ear. “-When I oh so enjoy my desserts sweet...”

Echo angles his head properly as his only response, grinning as he feels Astarion’s feather-light kisses along where his carotid artery pulses. He's managed to never make it feel entirely transactional, especially since their little heart-to-heart back in the Shadow-Cursed lands. Always tender, always careful, never taking an ounce too much. And he stays, helps him clean up, holds him close until he falls asleep. Starts having very undignified rêveries, curled around Echo, trapped with the tiefling's tail wrapped around his waist. 

They probably would have spent such a quiet night, if the tent hadn't been suddenly illuminated by a flash of flame and embers, before Astarion even sank his teeth in his lover's neck. Echo sits up with a groan, to witness a neatly rolled, worryingly thick scroll of paper, still ominously glowing. Raphael's sweet, musky perfume still clings to the paper, making Astarion groan in annoyance as it reaches his nose. 

“Awful sense of timing, that Devil”, he sighs. “We can't ignore that until morning, can we?”

Echo reaches for the scroll. It feels comfortingly warm, still vellum-soft. “I don't think I could catch a wink of sleep as it sits on my nightstand”, he says, popping the wax seal with a claw. 

“Not the sort of long night I was hoping for, but...”, the Vampire teases, settling next to Echo, looking over his shoulder like he's able to read infernal.

It's a long document. About twice the length of the original one, probably Raphael’s way to thank their legal diligence. Echo translates for Astarion, and the process is quite slow. They end up falling asleep halfway through, waking up tangled up with each other, the scroll draped over them, taunting them with their slightly lacking attention span. They do get up to get some breakfast, getting thoroughly teased for the exhausted looks on their faces, very eager for “Well, some people didn’t sleep a lot last night” jokes. Since Echo’s still keeping their dealings with Raphael a little secret, they take the beating quite graciously, and excuse themselves with a “Romantic Escapade” to go back to the contract.

It takes them a while to go through it all, since their beloved Cambion loves his odd turns of phrases, antiquated ways to write, and ridiculously small footnotes. They’ve settled in a tavern’s dark corner, not one of their usual haunts to make certain no one they knew could possibly stumble upon them, regularly waving for the waiter to get more coffee. Surprisingly, worryingly, they can’t find anything to reproach the Devil’s text, or find anything that could be misconstrued as a loophole to fuck Echo over in something more than a literal sense. They spend a moment, silent, staring at the end of the document, the only place where Raphael has written in Common. Sign here.

He has the quill. He has the ink. His hand is shaking, a little, until Astarion takes it in his, gently.

“You don’t have to”, he says, quietly.

“I know”, Echo replies, pressing a kiss to his lover’s knuckles. “Thank you.”

He dips the quill, wipes the excess ink at the rim of the vial, and writes his name, taking his time with it like his fate would only be sealed when it would leave the paper. The instant he does, his lines start to glow, as if etching them into the scroll as it rolls itself back shut and disappears into thin air in a flurry of embers that somehow, feel like a wink. They almost expect a summon to arrive within the second, but the first few tense moments of expectative soon phase out into tenser moments, not knowing what the Devil might be up to. Echo tries to laugh it off, as he often does, as they go back to camp. Torturing himself thinking about it won’t give him sudden insight into Raphael’s no doubt devious plans.

It actually takes hours before anything of note happens, almost enough for it to be entirely stripped from Echo’s mind before he goes to his tent again, and for his heart to stop the moment he notices a red envelope, laid neatly on his chest over a red rose, and a couple of lit black candles. He’s halfway between a surge of anxiety and the dire need to roll his eyes, though he’s hardly the best equipped to criticise the Devil’s sense of drama.

His throat a bit tight, he picks up the envelope, using the tip of his tail, still adorned with his blades, to shred it open. The card inside smells like the contract did, Raphael’s signature scent, unsurprisingly. It calls on Echo for the specific task of entertaining an event for Raphael, to start at eight post-meridiem, Faerûn time. To be transported to the House of Hope, he would only have to pronounce the infernal words written on the back of the card, at his convenience. How generous.

There’s a certain ammount of nerves about the event itself, that prevents him from really being all that affected when he tells Astarion, and calls for a meeting of the members of the party still at camp. It takes him a while to explain, and he thinks he does a decent job at not making it seem like a real stupid mistake to have done, especially to Wyll and Karlach, who still look at him like he’s insane. He’s not a bard for nothing, though, and he does manage making them consider the interesting part of that deal. Wyll offers to help with warlock spells. Karlach offers to help removing Raphael’s head from his body if he “tries it”. Which does make him laugh, if anything.

He dresses with his finest, not stinky-est clothes, has Astarion refresh his haircut, and polishes his jewellery a little, which had become incrusted with dust, mud, and most often, dried blood. He leaves his rapier behind, though he keeps the little daggers on the inside of his boots, just in case. It’s only a party in Hell, what could go wrong?

He decides to go early, just in case Raphael has additional instructions for the party, to get a proper feel for the layout of the House, and to make a good impression. Not that the Devil deserves his best behavior unquestionably, but he’d rather not piss him off outright. Astarion kisses his temple before he goes, and he recites the words to whisk himself away. Flames lick at his body almost sensually, and his breath is taken from his lungs before he can even realise he’s gone, he’s standing in the marble halls of the House of Hope again.

He has to say, he enjoys the heat. Summer’s his favourite season, and the specific sort of warmth the House has, dry, carrying the smell of light incense and dried flowers. He nearly saunters to Raphael’s office, letting his hand trail over carved marble, peeking around corridors and half open doors. It’s not like the House is empty - it’s quite busy, he assumes, preparing the feast, but no one seems to mind him for more than a spared, inquisitive glance. He gives a knock to the office’s door, and slips inside without really waiting for an answer, nudging the door closed after him with his tail.

“You’re quite early, my dear”, Raphael starts, not so much as looking up from the scroll he’s scribbling onto.

“Early is better manners than right on time, in show business”, the tiefling reponds, slinking around to one of the chairs facing the desk to drape himself over it. He notices a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, perched on the devil’s nose as he writes. He’d resent to admit the thoughts that go through his mind when Raphael eventually looks up at him, only managing a bit of a flush to his cheeks. “Is there- Any specific requests as what you’d like me to do?”, he asks, quickly, to distract himself.

“Oh, I do trust you to choose your own pieces”, he replies, waving a hand dismissively. “You will have access to musicians who will heed your commands, so you might take breaks. I hear you are quite experienced in these sort of events, it’s not so different from the ones you would have worked back in Baldur’s Gate...” He pauses, and grins. “... Well, maybe a bit different.”

“Is this a sex party, Raphael?”, Echo asks, trying to sound more annoyed than flustered.

“Please, no proper sex party starts out as a sex party”, the Cambion replies as he puts down his quill. “What this is, is an Avernus party. Things may go awry in several directions, which you should be awre, if not wary, of.”

“No permanent harm”, Echo reminds Raphael, with a little twitch of his eyebrows.

“On my word”, Raphael replies with his usual, untrustworthy smile, a hand laid over his heart. Echo believes him, if only in the sense that he doesn’t think Raphael would let anyone other than him lay a hand on him. If he can trust his own insights about a being whose main purpose is cheat mortals out of their souls. He has a little sigh, pulling out Raphael’s pick from his pocket to start tuning his bouzouki. It might be a long night.

×××

It’s a long night indeed. If Echo thought he’d seen everything from Baldurian parties, he can admit, for once, that he’s been dead wrong. He’s done excellent work, during the whole event, in directing his little band of musicians, all the while dodging propositions left and right, sometimes feeling Raphael’s gaze on him like sunlight through a magnifying lens. He still manages quite well, even after he’s been pushed into a wall by what he assumes has to have been an abyssal incubus, who seemed very eager to make “good use” of him. Not his first rodeo, and he managed to slip away, and finish the night relatively unscathed, spare for the devilish understanding of fun times he’s had to witness.

Once everyone is gone, Raphael finds him a bit exhausted, sitting on the edge of a balcony overlooking the burning wastes of Avernus, massaging the tips of the bruised fingers of his left hand.

“You have done well, little mouse”, Raphael almost purrs, handing the tiefling an intricately carved crystal glass, half filled with a honey-gold liquid. He gives it a little sniff, and it suspiciously doesn’t smell as alcoholic as it should.

“What is that?”, the tiefling asks, eyes narrowed.

“I call it Rapture”, Raphael replies with a glint of pride in his eye. “I make it myself. It’s... Strong, but it will not kill you, I promise.” Said with a very reassuring wink. Echo still takes a sip, at least dying might remove some of the images etched into his mind from that wretched party. It tastes sweet, at first, like raspberry liquor, and then brings a spiced, very pleasant burn on the tongue and into his throat that immediately makes him get another taste.

“Not so bad, now, is it?”, the Devil teases, leaning over the balustrade. There’s something about him, his pupils slightly dilated, a darker tone to his cheeks, a bonelessness to the way he moves... Is he drunk? Tipsy, maybe. The stuff hits quite fast, Echo notices, already feeling a little tingle at the tips of his fingers. Even perched up where he is, Raphael’s still taller than him, in Cambion form.

“Is it what you expected?”, Echo asks, after a little pause.

“Your performance?” The Devil looks down at his mouse, and his hands rests dangerously close to his. His gaze shifts to the everblazing horizon. “... Yes. Exceeded my expectations, slightly”, he adds, with a little insistence on that word.

He sounds almost indignant, like it’s hurtful to admit. Echo’s taken yet another sip of his drink, and leans in a little bit. “You’re not disappointed in your investment, then?”, he asks, though that’s teasing more than a real question. He hopes it sounds teasing, at least.

“How poorly you think of yourself, my dear...”

Echo starts when he feels Raphael’s hand brush a strand of hair away from his face, tucking it back behind his horns like the rest of it. His expression is unreadable, mouth unsmiling, eyebrows twitching once before he retracts his hand to search his pocket.

“I did get to adusting them”, he starts, producing the ornaments he’d offered for Echo’s horns. “If you would allow me...?”

The tiefling nods, turning his face to the side to give better access to the Devil. He’s quite gentle, when he curls the thin bands of gold around the horn, slotting the end into the sharp point of it, curling downward. The gem that dangles from it has been polished, like a single, perfect drop of blood. Echo keeps his eyes straight ahead until Raphael goes for the other side, and he has to keep his gaze on the Devil’s chest - his doublet uncharacteristically half open on his undershirt. Still not much skin to see, but compared to his usual attire, this feels, oddly intimate, especially when Raphael places his index under the tips of Echo’s horns, tipping his face up to look at his good work.

“There...”, he murmurs, almost to himself, eyes going from one side to the other. “Perfect.” The Cambion has a little satisflied smile, which wavers when he notices Echo looking at him. “... What is it?”, he asks, softer than he’d expect.

“I... Want to thank you”, Echo says, putting his now empty glass aside without breaking eye contact.

“And how would you thank me, little mouse?” His voice is low and quiet, and there’s a glint of mischief in his eye.

“I want to see how you taste”, Echo whispers, eyes dropping to Raphael’s lips. It does make him miss the split-second expression on the Cambion’s face, before he schools it back.

“Bold little thing...” He leans in just a little, not quite enough for Echo to reach him. The tiefling leans on a hand to fold a leg up and kneel on the balustrade, pushing himself up to rise to the Cambion’s level, and press his lips to his.

It takes at least that for him to realise what he’s doing, but it’s still not quite enough to make him stop - the alcohol swirling around in his brain being no help in discerning what should and should not be done with a fiendish patron. He darts his tongue out, running it over Raphael’s lower lip. “Come on, open up for me...”, he whispers, softly, a hand grasping at the edge of his doublet for stability. Strangely enough, Raphael obeys, and Echo melts into the kiss, running his tongue over the sharp points of his teeth, and finding out with delight that his tongue, at least in his devilish form, is forked.

Raphael’s being oddly still, until Echo’s other hand settles on his jaw, fingers slipping into the hair at the nape of his neck. That pulls the slightest sigh from him, and a brief pushback against Echo, almost needy in the way he bites at him, his hand almost grabbing for his jacket to pull him in. He almost immediately breaks the kiss, however, and when Echo looks up at him, he looks just as unaffected as he always does, a wry smirk on his lips.

“Is your curiosity satisfied?”, he asks, with a nearly mocking tone that pushes a needle through Echo’s pride.

“For now”, the tiefling replies, resenting the need, settled low in his gut, to satisfy it some more. Raphael smiles, and curls his fingers in under Echo’s jaw.

“Something to look forward to, for our next meeting, then”, he says, and before Echo can think of any witty reply, he’s snapped his fingers, and Echo’s in his tent once again, the taste of Rapture on his lips in more ways than one.

× × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × ×

Comments are super appreciated, and you can dm me if you want to be on the taglist if that’s still a thing people do!

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfic #raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #astarion x tav #astarion #fanfiction #bard on bard violence #echoes of faerun