Why Walk Around If You Can Make Your Own Way?

Love how this one turned out 🌖✨

Our cute puppy 🥰

I like Holly Black’s «The Folk of the Air» book series and there something Cardan once said to Jude that was carved into my memory, even though I couldn’t fully understand the meaning:

“By you, I am forever undone.”

But now, after getting to know Astarion, I think I am starting to understand.

Maybe it’s kind of love that feels like a wave washed over everything inside you, leaving no place untouched, changing you the way you’ll never be the same again. And how when you look at that person there is nothing about them that lefts you indifferent - every time you look at them you feel something in you falling apart, but in the best possible way.

It’s been so long but I apparently forgot to post this one and since I’ve found it why not .-.

After learning about that quote on Astarion's shirt in EA, I couldn't stop thinking about it. So I had to try to put it into words somehow:

"Could I kiss you?" you ask, still feeling that bashful flutter in your stomach. But he hums, visibly pleased with the idea.

"How could I say no?"

You smile, struggling to hold a wide grin that threatens to make you look like a fool in love. Which you helplessly are, no doubt.

You lean in, and your lips brush in a soft kiss - familiar, gentle. But when your hand settles on his shoulder, your fingers pause.

“What’s this?” you murmur, fingertips tracing an uneven spot in the fabric you haven’t noticed before.

"Oh, that." He barely glances over, already knowing what you mean. "It’s nothing... just something I made, a long time ago."

He takes a small step back, looking away, his eyes distant again. You wait, daring not to pull him back just yet. You let him decide. And he does, letting out a sigh and looking back with the same vulnerability that turns your heart inside out.

"It was something I made as a reminder, back when there wasn’t much to hold onto. When I was at... his place."

That piercing gaze is full of honesty and careful trust.

"It sounds important. What is it about?.."

You take a small step closer, tilting your head to get a better look, but you wait for permission. He hesitates for a moment but spreads the folds of the shirt, revealing a neat, eloquent line of words embroidered under the waves of ruffles, close to the heart.

"It says - lamentable is the autumn picker content with plums."

You reach out to touch the letters, and he remains still, watching you with the familiar intensity you didn't know you needed in your life. The silence is comfortable. You turn the words in your mind, catching the meaning.

You picture him bent over this shirt, needle in hand, stitching that one stubborn hope into the fabric he kept mending for too many times. Something no one could take. A reminder that even then, he was longing for more.

"I was a plum picker back then," he continues as his fingers softly tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear, taking their time, hovering over your skin, his eyes pensive. "Forced to live on bruised fruits and scraps. I had to remember there was more. There had to be more, even if I didn't know how it looked."

You turn your head, leaning into his touch, and look into his eyes.

“What about now?” you whisper.

He meets your gaze quietly, talking a moment to think, as if he’s still learning the answer himself.

“Now... I think I do.”

She has a point .-. Besides, we can get an achievement “Sing to Snape and survive”

Wow, wasn’t that bad after all!

He probably does think we are weird tho ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I absolutely love the fact that you can suggest Astarion some herbal tea to help him relax on their first night when playing as a druid

Love my class :3

He seems both touched and amused hehe

I want you to know I love your Astarion posts - they're so thoughtful and well written but still succinct, and I'm having a great time reading them right before I start a replay. But I also adore how organized they are and how easy it is to find the master post, so thank you for that!

Wow thank you so much! 🥺✨ I’m really glad to hear the link system is working well - I hoped it would make the navigation easier.

And it means so much that you (and everyone, really!) are following along! Honestly, I wasn’t sure what to expect when I started posting bg3 content here, since I wasn’t very active and definitely arrived late to the party, but it’s been such a welcoming and thoughtful community, with so many great, thought-provoking posts too.

Shen Qiao looking at Yan Wushi dressed as a woman:

Hm, looks like a decent disguise.

~~~~~

Yan Wushi looking at Shen Qiao dressed as a woman:

Hm, I have a good taste indeed.

Thank you for this addition! I didn’t go that far in my thoughts and I am still figuring out for myself what kind of master Cazador was to Astarion and his siblings and what kind of life they had in that place.

And I love the other poster’s thoughts on the quote. I feel a bit sorry that Larian decided to remove it.

Astarion's Shirt

(8/? part of “Astarion: In Search of True Self” — [masterpost here])

This part is short, and probably has been talked about before, but I just wanted to share how much I love that the game gives us character insight through small, indirect details. For example, the description of Astarion’s shirt.

“A once-fine shirt that’s seen years of cuts, tears, and careful repairs. Clearly someone cares about looking good.”

At first glance, it’s a nod to his vanity - Astarion knows how gorgeous he is, and he clearly enjoys small luxuries when he can. But I think there’s more to it than that.

Yes, his appearance was Astarion’s tool to do his job - luring people for Cazador. But maybe this careful mending of that shirt feels like something else, something “human.”

I can't help but imagine Astarion’s frame bending over his shirt and fixing it up once again, working so carefully on the stitches… And there is something deeply sad about it - but also resilient. Him, in that cold castle, maybe after another torture or another night with someone he didn’t want to be with. So here he is, just sitting there in his little corner - a bed in a room he shares with other spawns - working on his clothes quietly.

Maybe telling himself that he can still look like this life as a slave doesn’t make him any less, like he still can carry himself with pride. It is something he still can control. And it is not about vanity, but dignity - another small act of defiance in its own quiet way. His insistence that he still matters, that he is still someone. Even if no one else cares. Even if it is just him, needle in hand, patching fabric like he wished he could patch up the holes inside his heart, too.

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