Okay, just yesterday I finished writing one of my usual ridiculously long Astarion essays: THIS. This time I’ll keep it short. Maybe. Hopefully. Lol.
Anyway, in that post I made a brief aside about a scene from Astarion’s origin run, when he interacts with the nymph Naoise Nallinto and reveals what he desires above all else: be safe.
That scene immediately reminded me of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. I remember it was one of the topics I studied for my General Psychology exam back in my long-gone youth.
Very briefly: Maslow’s theory is one of the most influential theories in humanistic psychology, although today it’s generally regarded more as a conceptual framework than as a rigorously validated scientific model. What makes Maslow interesting is that he wasn’t just asking, “Why do people suffer?” He was also asking, “What do human beings need in order to thrive and grow?”
Essentially, Maslow proposed that human needs tend to follow a certain order of priority. Today, the theory has some well-known limitations. For example, the hierarchy isn’t always that rigid, and priorities can vary across cultures. The reason it continues to be cited in psychology, education, management, and even coaching isn’t because it perfectly explains how the human mind works, but because it offers a simple and intuitive way to think about human needs and how they can change throughout life.
I’ll leave the hierarchy below so I don’t have to write an even longer explanation about it.
What I really wanted to say is that seeing Astarion’s choice among Naoise Nallinto’s options made my heart ache all over again. If we use Maslow’s hierarchy as a simple frame of reference, it really highlights just how much our beloved vampire spawn still has to heal before he can truly experience relationships to their fullest, fully develop genuine self-esteem, find lasting inner peace, and ultimately become fully self-actualized.
That said, if we look at the Radiant Hopeful path, I think we can already see the different levels proposed by Maslow beginning to emerge and intertwine:
Safety: killing Cazador and no longer living under his control.
Belonging: finding a family within the group and a partner who truly loves him.
Esteem: learning to see himself as something other than a tool or a monster.
Self-actualization: deciding who he wants to be, rather than who Cazador made him to be.
And that’s it, really. Just a random little thought that popped into my head because, apparently, my brain simply can’t resist chiming in. As promised, I actually kept it short. That’s an achievement I’m quite proud of! xD
Yep. It's fascinating how you can trace Astarion's progression up this pyramid over the course of the game. Obviously it's not neat or linear, but it's there and it's traceable.
And Tav/Durge is the first person to open the door for Astarion to getting these needs fulfilled.
The first to feed him and encourage him to satiate his hunger.
The first to promise to watch his back and mean it.
The first to treat him as a person, more than just a good lay.
The first to teach him that while our scars may mark us, they don't have to define us.
It's clear to me that the writers were at least passingly aware of Maslow in addition to the painful soul-crushing dynamics of abusive relationships.
Perhaps it's a bit self-indulgent, but part of the reason I'm so fond of this character is specifically because he's such a mess at the start of the narrative: he's prickly, self-focused, manipulative and deceptive— he's had to be in order to survive.
And if I as the player character can learn to accept him as he is while also acknowledging that he's capable of more, then perhaps I can learn to love and accept myself in my imperfection while I work to untangle maladaptive behaviors that no longer serve my life as it is now.
If Admiral Janeway really and truly wanted to get her crew home as quickly as possible and was dead-set on using time travel to do it, I’d like to rationalize why she chose Endgame.
Voyager had many close calls with the Alpha Quadrant, but most were false opportunities or misunderstandings. (The micro wormhole across time, the telepathic pitcher plant, the planet whose mantle allowed long range transport). One that absolutely was NOT a false opportunity or misunderstanding was the episode “False Profits” in season 3. The wormhole was undeniably to the Alpha Quadrant, and the issue was that the escaped Ferengi collapsed it before Voyager could enter it.
If Admiral Janeway were just looking for the fastest way home, the most elegant solution would have been to return to this episode and lay some extra smackdown on the Ferengi to render them unable to escape to their shuttle, and they would never emit the graviton pulse that destabilized the wormhole. Instead, she elected for maximum smackdown on the Borg transwarp hub. Handwaving away that if she came back to season 3, the rest of the show would not have happened, here’s my list of reasons why she wouldn’t do that:
1. False Profits took place in 2373. The Dominion War ended in 2375. To prevent her Maquis crew from being slaughtered and her Starfleet crew from being sent to the front lines and also likely decimated, they should come back after the end of the war.
2. Seven of Nine had not yet been freed from the Collective. She personally faced off against the Borg for Seven too many times to never save her. (Also, choose your flavor of Captain/mentor/lover/mother, but Admiral Janeway came back after Seven becoming her own person and before Seven marrying Chakotay for a REASON.)
3. Admiral Janeway’s journey was motivated by a great deal of self-loathing and guilt. To avoid Time Police prosecution, or worse, someone ‘correcting’ her timeline, a suicide mission was always going to be ideal for her.
4. Destroying the transwarp hub also destroyed an outlet that was in the heart of the Federation and certainly would have been the next catastrophe after the Dominion War if the Borg had popped out right outside Earth. She crippled the Borg’s expansion into the Alpha Quadrant and could justify that action by saving billions of lives.
5. personal vendetta against the Borg Queen. What a move, to tenderly look into your deepest enemy’s eyes as she assimilates you and then you both blow up. Stunning. No notes.
Was any of this considered in the show? Likely not. Do I hold it as interpretation so I don’t start ranting about Endgame? Most certainly.
#bonus sixth reason: if she's going to have insane chemistry with herself she wants it to be with Season 7 Hair Janeway
Best hair Janeway, 10/10.
Even if all of these reasons weren't part of the calculus when plotting the finale, they damn well should have been and I've accepted this as (head)canon.
call me terminally academia-brained but i do think a lot of the fun of character analysis is figuring out how to build a compelling argument for a particular reading using lines of evidence from canon as well as meta/intertextual support
and you could say that what i’m saying here is basically “a lot of the fun of doing character analysis is doing character analysis” but let’s be real a lot of fandom character analysis is pretty heavily vibes-based. and i think that’s where i really chafe up against the traditional thought-terminating fandom attitude of like, everyone’s opinions hold equal weight and any interrogation of that is inherently hostile. because i think it’s fascinating to dig into where others are coming from in terms of their views on characters or dynamics or whatever, especially when they differ significantly from more commonly expressed views, and part of that digging is asking people okay what parts of canon are you drawing from to support your opinion? what parts of canon are you disregarding or downplaying? how does this argument hold up in the light of how race, gender, class, ability, etc. operate both in the piece’s in-fiction and real world contexts?
Yes. All of this. I expect someone to support a proposed interpretation— and it's okay if they can't, but if that's the case, then I expect them be open to differing opinions and respectful of those who DO use the canon text as a basis for analysis.
It's totally fine for people to just enjoy a headcanon; you're allowed to like/dislike things, even irrational things.
I just find it exasperating when someone is incapable of separating their personal preference from what's supported in canon.
Rolan & chrysanthemums for Baldur's Flora - bg3 flower zine. I wanted to emphasizes the protection meaning for chrysanthemums by including a bit of Lia and Cal. It was so lovely drawing this piece for the zine and so excited to finally share it!
One time I was at a pub trivia night with some writer friends and we almost won but there was a tie. As a tiebreaker they asked us and the other team to write down as many moons of Jupiter as we could in two minutes.
None of us are very into astronomy so at first everyone was like oh we’re gonna lose but there were three of us at the table that night who were either former classics majors or otherwise super well read on Roman mythology and the three of us were like give us that paper right now and we just took turns writing down all of the lovers of Jupiter from mythology that we could.
Agency, Identity, and Seeing Astarion Beyond the Ritual
Just rambling for a bit. Let me vent and don't ask questions. I know it's about the same old topics, but they keep making my eyes bleed whenever they pop up on Tumblr, YouTube, Reddit, and the like.
Aaaaaanyway…
I’m always a little baffled when people passionately defend Astarion’s agency the moment the Persuasion check comes up only to deny him agency over something even more fundamental: his own identity—who he is and who he might become. Suddenly, he was evil, he is evil, and he’ll always be evil, with no room for growth, no room for discovery, and no room even for the theoretical possibility that he could become something else. Or perhaps, as I see it, that he has been something else all along: someone who has always carried both light and darkness within him, rather than darkness alone. In a game with multiple endings, no less.
There’s another irony in all of this. Tav/Durge is often criticized—sometimes quite harshly (and it’s worth remembering that Tav/Durge is the player’s avatar, not a character acting independently of the person behind the screen—someone who may deeply resonate with the spawn path and wholeheartedly believe in it)—for supposedly imposing a moral framework on Astarion. Yet, the very people making that criticism often end up imposing one of their own. Only this one is permanent, predetermined; it defines who he is, who he has always been, and who he will always remain: evil. He’s trapped within that definition, denied the possibility of change—as though he were caged. Trapped within a wonderful moral label that, to make matters worse, brings with it a whole range of related concepts.
According to the Oxford Advanced Learner’s Dictionary, evil, when used to describe a person, is defined as: "(of people) enjoying harming others; morally bad and cruel.”
Words carry weight—sometimes enormous weight—as well as a very precise meaning.
Indeed, turning “Astarion does evil things” into “Astarion is evil” means adopting an essentialist view of his identity. It means attributing a moral essence to him, and that essence inevitably shapes the way the character is interpreted. Among other things, it can imply:
Untrustworthiness: his words, his gestures of affection, and even his moments of vulnerability can all be interpreted as manipulation.
Being dangerous: he is perceived as someone to be feared, controlled, or kept at a distance.
A lack of genuine empathy: his positive actions risk being seen as purely instrumental, never sincere.
Moral unworthiness: it becomes easier to believe that he is undeserving of trust, compassion, forgiveness, or love.
The need for punishment: if he is truly, irredeemably evil, then judging him, despising him, or wishing for his condemnation becomes a logically consistent consequence of that premise.
And then, when someone judges him according to that very moral framework—or even despises him because of it—the reaction is often one of outrage. “How dare you say Ascended Astarion is dangerous, manipulative, or incapable of a healthy relationship?” But if the premise is that he is inherently evil from the start (he was evil, he is evil, and he’ll always be evil), those conclusions are hardly surprising—they are the logical extension of that premise!
Why does this happen? Because there’s an interesting inconsistency. The essentialist reading often seems to apply only to pre-ascension Astarion. Once he ascends, that rigidity mysteriously disappears. Suddenly, he is allowed to be more than just “evil.” He can be read as loving. Tender. Protective. Generous. Sincere. As someone who poses no danger to the people closest to him. Even vulnerable in certain contexts. If complexity isn’t incompatible with evil after ascension, why should it be before it?
I’d like to make one thing clear: my point is not to invalidate ascension. It’s one of Astarion’s possible paths. In fact, I have no problem acknowledging—and I think it’s entirely plausible—that Ascended Astarion remains a nuanced character. However, that is his evil ending. Before that, I think it’s more accurate to say that Astarion does commit evil acts, yes—but that is not what he intrinsically is, at his very core. For me, there has always been light within him: room for growth, even for redemption, for those willing to see it.
Astarion’s approval goes beyond words and empty pretenses.
Some might object that, according to the Monster Manual, vampires are Lawful Evil. That’s true—but I’d point out that those stat blocks are simply the default. It’s ultimately up to the Dungeon Master to decide the alignment of a specific vampire character.
Jander Sunstar, for example, is a canonical vampire character in D&D lore who is not evil. Likewise, the alignments of player characters can change over the course of an adventure depending on the events they experience and the choices they make. That’s built into D&D’s rules as well.
So it’s no coincidence that Astarion has both a good ending and an evil one. The outcome depends on which part of him the player chooses to nurture throughout the journey: the light within him, or the darkness already there.
And that’s precisely why I find the idea that the Persuasion check is somehow forcing him, imposing something on him, or stripping away his agency so absurd.
Seriously, what do people think this mysterious Persuasion check actually is? Some terrifying, supernatural power, apparently?
Astarion is supposedly perfectly capable of choosing ascension knowingly and with complete clarity. Yet this idea that he’s “perfectly capable of making his own decisions” seems to remain valid only until Tav/Durge succeeds on that Persuasion check. Apparently, that’s the exact moment he forgets how to think, abandons all independent judgment, and starts blindly following Tav/Durge’s morality instead.
As if he’d just hit his head harder than he had in over two hundred years.
It’s not magic, folks. It’s not mind control. It’s not a charm spell. It’s not even an Intimidation check or a Deception check.
It’s words. They’re simply words, spoken by someone who knows him well and genuinely has his best interests at heart. And a series of arguments that can strike a chord deep within him.
Even the Oxford Dictionary defines to persuade as “to make somebody do something by giving them good reasons for doing it.” The very concept of persuasion assumes that the other person remains capable of listening, weighing those reasons, and ultimately making a choice. If they weren’t, it wouldn’t be persuasion anymore. It would be coercion.
But why is there a Persuasion check at all? Because Astarion has been saying, loud and clear, from the very beginning that he wants to ascend. Well... NO. Because there’s that pesky little Insight check.
The game itself introduces a tool for reading his inner state at the very moment it matters most.
The very fact that there’s an Insight check during the ritual implies that there’s something to understand beneath the surface. It’s not as simple (or as flat) as saying, “Astarion said he wants to ascend, therefore that’s all there is to it.”
Among its definitions, the Oxford Advanced Learner’s Dictionary defines insight as “the ability to see and understand the truth about people or situations.” Pretty fitting, wouldn’t you say?
Indeed, if Astarion were simply determined to ascend, in the sense of being perfectly lucid, completely certain of himself, free of any inner conflict, and driven solely by ambition, there would be no need for an Insight check.
The game could simply present it as a fully conscious decision and leave it to the player to either support or oppose it. On the other hand, an Insight check only makes sense if there’s something beneath the surface for the player to perceive.
Look into your lover’s eyes — try to see what’s driving this.
“Try to see what’s driving this” is literally an invitation to look beneath the surface—to understand the deepest, most visceral motivations behind his actions.
Neither the wording nor the choice of words is accidental.
But let’s look at what the Narrator actually says, because the Insight check gives us a direct, unfiltered glimpse into Astarion’s inner world—without relying on his words or anyone else’s—at the most pivotal moment of his entire questline.
“You can see the fear in his eyes, but also the hunger. The thick smell of blood in the air and the promise of power being so close is intoxicating to him. All he can see is the power of the ritual, and the freedom that power brings. The freedom to do anything—to be anything.”
So what is actually happening inside Astarion? What does Tav/Durge truly perceive after succeeding on the Insight check?
The narration begins with: “You can see the fear in his eyes, but also the hunger.” The words “but also” are crucial. They don’t replace one emotion with the other. The Narrator isn’t saying, “He’s only terrified. Nor is the Narrator saying, “He’s only hungry for power.”
It’s both.
Both emotions coexist, and both are genuine for Astarion in that moment. But they can only be fully understood within their proper context and the narrative as a whole.
Then comes: “The thick smell of blood in the air and the promise of power being so close is intoxicating to him.”
As I said before, words carry enormous weight, and they are not chosen carelessly in writing as refined as that of Baldur’s Gate 3. The Oxford Advanced Learner’s Dictionary gives the following definition for the adjective intoxicating: “making you feel excited so that you cannot think clearly.” And here I can’t help but smile, because immediately afterward it provides an example that feels almost ironic: “Power can be intoxicating.”
So, Astarion is overwhelmed on multiple levels. First of all he is afraid. Then, for a vampire, the scent of blood is already something capable of clouding judgment and awakening instinct. Add to that the promise of power—something vampires are almost instinctively drawn toward—and the Narrator paints a picture of someone whose perceptions are profoundly altered in that moment.
So, in this moment, Astarion is no longer capable of thinking with the detachment he normally might.
Then we arrive at what I think is the most crucial line, one that connects perfectly with everything that came before: “All he can see is the power of the ritual, and the freedom that power brings.”
“All he can see…”
Those words are incredibly powerful. They tell us that his perception has in fact narrowed.
From a psychological perspective, this resembles what is commonly known as tunnel vision. When someone is terrified, emotionally overwhelmed, in urgency, and confronted with something they believe could offer them a way out—a chance for relief—they often become unable to see any alternatives. Their focus narrows until only one path seems possible: the easiest one, the one within immediate reach.
But let’s be clear about one thing: the Narrator isn’t telling us that the ritual is his only path to freedom. Nor is the Narrator saying that it cannot lead to freedom. What the Narrator is telling us is that, in that moment, Astarion cannot see any other path.
Finally, we get: “The freedom to do anything—to be anything.”
Here, I think the game is reminding the player of what has always been Astarion’s deepest desire. Not power for its own sake.
Freedom.
In this case, power is the means. Freedom is the end.
A brief aside. Another of Astarion’s core motivations is the need to feel safe. Freedom and safety—those are the goals he is ultimately striving toward.
The encounter with the nymph Naoise Nallinto in Astarion’s Origin run is particularly telling because it confronts him with several possible aspirations, many of which would seem fitting for a vampire. Yet none of those is what Astarion chooses. His priorities, in truth, lie elsewhere.
Now let’s go back to the beginning and put all the pieces together. The Insight check prompts us to “try to see what’s driving this.” But if power is the means and freedom and safety the end, what is the driving force the game itself is inviting us to see? Fear. The emotion that has accompanied Astarion throughout the entire journey—deep, overwhelming, burned into the very core of his being by Cazador and two hundred years of abuse.
Can we conclude from this that Astarion genuinely wants to ascend? Absolutely. But that desire exists within a broader and more complex context—one shaped by his history, his instinct for survival, his trauma, and an emotional state so profoundly clouding that, in that very moment, it prevents him from perceiving any alternative.
And this is precisely where the Persuasion check comes into play. Its purpose isn’t to override his agency, but simply to broaden his perspective—to move beyond “all he can see,” to cut through what is “intoxicating to him,” and allow him to consider by presenting an argument another possibility before making his decision.
I’d invite you to take a close look at Astarion’s facial expression in the screenshot at the exact moment the Persuasion check succeeds. His head is tilted slightly to his right. And do you notice the direction of his gaze? It’s lowered, off to the right. He’s no longer looking at the person speaking to him. His attention has shifted elsewhere.
Psychological research has shown that this kind of gaze aversion often accompanies the shift from external attention to internal cognitive processing, particularly when someone is engaged in complex reasoning or effortful memory retrieval.
In that light, it’s not difficult to read Astarion’s expression as someone who, immediately after hearing Tav/Durge’s words, is genuinely reflecting on what has just been said and mentally working through it. It therefore comes as little surprise that his very next words are, “You are right.”
And can we talk about the ellipsis in “You… you are right”? It’s difficult not to read that pause as the precise moment Astarion processes what Tav/Durge has just said and arrives at a realization.
And that’s when he chooses. He chooses not to become like Cazador, but to become better than him.
It would almost be unnecessary to point out that Astarion approves when he’s persuaded to abandon the ritual—but I’ll do it anyway. Because approval is an objective game mechanic. In fact, it’s even more compelling than any line of dialogue a character can deliver, because dialogue can always leave room for deception or self-deception. Approval doesn’t.
What I find truly beautiful, though, is how the game’s writing had been building toward this moment from the very beginning. “I can be better than him” calls back to an Act 1 conversation that takes place after Astarion feeds on a bear and is riding the high of its blood—provided, of course, that you don’t encourage his darker impulses.
When Tav/Durge tells him, “You can be better than what he made you,” Astarion initially twists those words into something else. To him, being “better” means being more powerful than Cazador, cleverer than him, stronger than him. Only then, with a teasing tone, does he realize Tav/Durge actually meant kinder.
Which is why hearing him say those exact same words at the end of his quest—“I can be better than him”—is so powerful. This time, he means them exactly as Tav/Durge did all along.
And whether you’re romancing him or not, these are some of the words Astarion has to say the morning after rejecting the ritual. They perfectly reinforce the interpretation suggested by the Insight check and by the narrator’s own description—which, once again, is an objective part of the game’s text.
“Back at the ritual, all I could see was the power on offer and the safety it promised. I was so blinded by it. Just as Cazador was.”
The narrator describes, from an external perspective, a state of mind characterized by fear, the allure of power, and a narrowing of perspective. The following morning, Astarion doesn’t contradict the narrator; instead, he retrospectively confirms that description. The parallel is striking.
The narrator tells us that “all he can see is the power of the ritual, and the freedom that power brings.” Astarion then uses almost exactly the same words: “Back at the ritual, all I could see was the power on offer…”
The narrator goes on to explain why: “The thick smell of blood in the air and the promise of power being so close is intoxicating to him.” The following morning, Astarion reaches precisely the same conclusion, but in different words: “I was so blinded by it.” The metaphor changes, but the meaning does not.
And the parallels don’t end there.
Immediately afterward, Astarion adds that Tav/Durge saw something in him—a recurring theme throughout the entire game. Does that remind you of anything?
From the very first conversation after the bear encounter, Tav/Durge sees something in Astarion. Despite speaking to a vampire—a creature typically feared and despised—they take it for granted that he "can be better than what he (Cazador) made him.”
"I can be better then him," say Astarion at the ritual. “Someone else I could be,” Astarion later confirms after rejecting it.
But let’s go back for a moment to the prompt for the Insight check: “Look into your lover’s eyes—try to see what’s driving this.” The key word is see. And that’s exactly what Tav/Durge did. And for Astarion, in his good ending, that make all the difference in the world.
And can we talk about how this same message is then passed on by Astarion to his brothers and sisters?
Newly free, frightened, and unsure of what lies ahead, they ask what will become of them. Astarion already has an answer:
“You can hide here, living in the shadows like parasites, or you can be more than what he made us to be.”
This is more than just a clever linguistic parallel. It demonstrates that Astarion has truly internalized the message he once received. What Tav/Durge saw in him (“You can be better than what he made you”) becomes the very way he comes to see others (“You can be more than what he made us to be”). In other words, he has learned to recognize in others the same possibility that someone once recognized in him.
The only difference is that the pronoun changes from you to us. And I think that’s incredibly significant. For the first time, Astarion doesn’t place himself above the other spawn. He doesn’t say, “…more than what he made you to be.” He says, “…what he made us to be.”
He includes himself.
He acknowledges that all of them were shaped by Cazador, and that all of them are capable of choosing something different.
This continuity makes the ending of the Pale Elf’s quest even more powerful. Astarion’s transformation is not simply about rejecting the ritual; it is about changing the way he sees both himself and others. No longer as creatures defined by Cazador, but as people capable of choosing who they want to become.
It is an ending that isn’t about power, but about identity, possibility, and freedom. It completely transcends the simplistic archetype of “he was evil, he is evil, and he will always be evil.”
This is what agency looks like: the ability to choose. One way or the other. For good or for ill. And to accept the consequences of that choice.
But let’s return to the parallel with the Insight check—to what Tav/Durge saw beneath Astarion’s surface. The narrator concludes with the words, “The freedom to do anything, to be anything.” The morning after rejecting the ritual, Astarion echoes that idea as well:
“When I look at my future, anything and everything feels possible now.”
But while the narrator’s words are impersonal and abstract, describing an ideal, Astarion’s are not. They are deeply personal and concrete. He is genuinely looking at his future now: “When I look…”
It is a future full of possibilities, one he attained not through ascension, but precisely by rejecting it. And for the first time, he is looking at it with his own eyes—not through Tav/Durge’s gaze (“you see”), nor through eyes blinded by the promise of power (“I was so blinded by it”).
None of this is meant to argue that Ascension isn’t a valid possibility for Astarion. It is. The game clearly allows for that choise, and it leads to a coherent ending of its own. But rejecting the ritual is just as much a possibility, and just as valid.
That’s why I find statements such as “Ascension is Astarion’s canonical ending,” “it’s his only true happy ending,” “Astarion says he wants to ascend, so there’s nothing left to discuss,” or “Tav/Durge simply imposes their own morality while Radiant Hopeful Astarion is wearing a mask” so profoundly unconvincing.
Those claims don’t simply reject one interpretation in favor of another. They deny Astarion the very agency they often seek to defend. They reduce him to a single, predetermined identity: he was evil, he is evil, and he will always be evil.
After everything this character’s story has to say about choice, identity, and the possibility of becoming something more than what abuse made you, that strikes me as an oddly reductive conclusion.
That doesn’t mean everyone has to like the Radiant Hopeful ending. Of course they don’t. Personal preference is an entirely different matter. But dismissing it as illegitimate, or claiming it cannot genuinely belong to Astarion, overlooks much of what the game itself spends his entire character arc exploring.
Anyway...
For those who, like me, prefer the Radiant Hopeful ending, I’d like to leave you with these final two screenshots, which I think beautifully summarize everything I’ve been rambling about so far.
The first comes from one of Astarion’s earliest moments at camp, when he asks the player directly what they see—because he can’t see it himself. Even the mirror he looks into is already shattered, a subtle visual detail that only reinforces the metaphor. The missing reflection serves as a powerful symbol of his fractured identity.
By the end of his journey, Astarion revisits the themes that have defined his character arc. Setting aside power, which belongs to the other ending, he speaks once again about safety… and about being seen. Something he ultimately found in his partner.
And with that, I have to ask the obligatory question: are you still alive?
I swear, every single time I tell myself I’ll only write a little. Just a few lines about a couple of thoughts or ideas. Then my brain just… opens up, kind of like your stomach when you start absentmindedly snacking. Before I know it, I’ve written a novel. I honestly don’t do it on purpose, I swear!
To the absolute heroes who somehow survived all the way to the end: you have both my admiration and my gratitude. It can’t be easy getting through this many walls of text—especially when they’re probably a bit messy and all over the place. At some point there was so much I genuinely think I lost the thread myself. Sob.
Every time I read OP's posts on this subject, I feel like they've distilled my own chaotic meandering thoughts into coherence.
It's precisely the lack of choice in the Ascension that I find— for lack of a better word— incredibly boring.
You're really gonna tell me that this Chaos Gremlin of a man wants to spend the rest of his immortal life in his old torturer's palace, surrounded by Cazador's stench, scheming and schmoozing? Ingratiating himself to others— pimping himself by other means? Playing at politics? Leading armies? Dodging would-be heroes constantly? Planning stuff??
That sounds like a nightmare for the man who wants to be free from constraint, free to reinvent himself, and be safe.
Don't forget: his post-game title is Sunwalking REGENT. A regent is, by definition, a temporary placeholder. As the Ascendant, he's powerful, but not untouchable.
He's placed a target on his back as surely as Cazador carved those scars into his flesh. And since his deepest expressed desire is safety, I can't gainsay him. I can't help but feel that it would be a betrayal.
Astarion will not tolerate such an injustice! HISS!
(if you don't get this reference, His Majesty, the cat in last light inn, says the cleric is a liar because she promised him a bowl of milk and yet, he had no milk).
I know this fan art was created independently, but it has so perfectly captured a scene from one of my favorite fics that they're now inextricably bound in my mind.
Go check out The Accountant’s Guide to Taking Down an Evil Vampire Lord (and maybe bagging Astarion while you are at it) by Cinnamontails
The heroine is wonderful, and the way the author builds the slowly deepening attraction Astarion feels for her is sublime.
Snippet from the third chapter under the cut (but seriously go read it bc it's so damn good):
...as the door swung open again, [he stumbled out], his head still bowed. He flung out his arms and caught something out of the air.
"Go eat your dinner somewhere where I don't have to see you, boy," the raspy voice inside said.
The door slammed shut and the pale-haired bastard scurried off, his prize clutched to his chest. [...]
[...] Righteous fury boiled in her veins, so hot that she dropped any attempt at stealth as she followed him into a small room at the end of the hallway.
It was a sort of scullery, the narrow space dominated by shelves full of buckets, brushes and dirty laundry. He hadn't even bothered to turn on the light; he huddled in the dark on his knees, bent over his prey. His teeth tore at the flesh, a stream of revolting squishy noises filling the room.
Scarlett rushed forward, stake in hand. "Let go of her, you vile monster!"
He whirled, quick like a snake. In that moment, he truly looked like a monster. Blood spattered all the way to his sharp cheekbones, his fangs so prominent she couldn't believe she had ever overlooked them. Long and sharp and white, except for a few pieces of his meal stuck between his teeth. Dark, matted chunks of what had to be ... hair?
Her gaze dipped to the prey in his hands. Mauled as it was, even she could discern that it wasn't the lanky wood elf he had led into the mansion. It had to be some sort of rodent, a rat perhaps, or a ferret. Dead for quite a while, judging by the stench.
It’s really telling of Halsin’s character that, left to his own devices, he chooses to found a town following the fall of the Netherbrain. He responds to the Baldur’s Gate refugee crisis by fostering a new community where the needs of orphans, refugees, and others can be met. To me, this alone implies he isn’t “anti-civilization” or “anti-urban” or whatever, as sometimes gets bandied about. We can infer from his actions that he clearly sees the value of organized social life.
Halsin often talks about balance, and I think that’s key to his stance on both nature and society. Both should have some internal degree of balance, but should also be balanced with regards to each other. Balance isn’t static. It requires effort to maintain and the actions of agentful beings will tip the system in one direction or another. I think it’s more accurate of his thinking to say the city is in a state of disequilibrium, as evidenced by an unusually extreme incidence of visible structural violence. If you let Kagha kill Arabella, Rath will make a similar argument. In his words, killing Arabella encourages disequilibrium because it will instigate more violence between the tieflings and druids. It creates conditions for a tit-for-tat revenge cycle that has the capacity to cause great disorder for little tangible benefit.
Yes, when you’re in Baldur’s gate, Halsin gives you a blanket statement about whether civilization and nature can even coexist. I read this as a knee-jerk reaction made in an emotional moment, not a well tailored 5 paragraph philosophical essay that perfectly reflects his thinking on nature/culture dualisms.
Generally, I see Halsin as anti-cruelty, not anti-“civilization”. I don’t think he would love instances of blatant creature-to-creature cruelty regardless of the context. We can argue about whether he always lives up to this ideal, but I see him as very consistent in this way of thinking.
If Halsin were truly "anti-civilization", he would have encouraged Kagha and joined up with the Shadow Druids— that's their whole thing, they believe that 'nature' is paramount and should reign supreme and completely (conveniently) forget about the fact that the sentient peoples of Faerûn* are inextricably part of nature and cannot exist outside of it.
*Just as we here in the Real World can't exist outside of nature. We might live in cities and stay indoors and have no clue where our food comes from but we still need water and food and sunlight, there's no divorcing ourselves from the ecological cycle no matter how smart or elevated we think we are.
“Recently, my son said to me after seeing a ballet on television: ‘It’s beautiful, but I don’t like it.’ And I thought, Are many grown-ups capable of such a distinction? It’s beautiful, but I don’t like it. Usually, our grown-up thinking is more along the lines of: I don’t like it, so it’s not beautiful. What would it mean to separate those two impressions for art making and for art criticism?”
— “59. it’s beautiful, but I don’t like it” from 100 essays I don’t have time to write: on umbrellas and sword fights, parades and dogs, fire alarms, children, and theater, sarah ruhl
(via likeniobe)
watch movies that make you uncomfortable read books that make you uncomfortable go to plays that make you uncomfortable watch tv that makes you uncomfortable look at paintings and sculpture and artwork that makes you uncomfortable. it is spiritually and morally and ethically and artistically really really good for you. think about why you are uncomfortable. what biases do you bring to art? what biases does the art bring to you? how do you reconcile this? how does your worldview grow and expand and change? all this and more will be answered and available to you if you just engage with art that does not coddle you and treats you like an intelligent human being that can sit through discomfort
after getting a couple of years of distance from it, the whole “is astarion’s Good Ending the ascension ending or the spawn ending” debate is so funny to me because at the end of the day what that debate boils down to is: you can choose to sacrifice 7000 (mostly innocent) people’s souls to a literal devil for eternity so that one random ass dude can walk in the sun again or you can. Not do that
People can like what they like. But I've seen some truly absurd takes and the cattiness from the toxic element (which is just a very vocal portion of a greater whole, I'm aware) is.... well. I don't have a lot of patience for a disingenuous argument, much less a poorly-supported one.
Autism Representation written by an allistic: My name is John Autism and I like the designated autistic interests
unintentionally autistic character written by the creator who hasn't really thought about whether or not theyre autistic: I wish I could be human like the way everyone else is but I know they can tell I'm not. And I know they're right
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Because someone on Tumblr asked me if Neve and Astarion opened the barn doors in the Blighted Village, and I thought that was the funniest thing I'd ever heard.
Takes place after Moderation and slightly after the second scene of A Little Further.
Neve may not be too impressed with Astarion, but I think under better (less stressful) circumstances she might come to enjoy his Chaos Gremlin tendencies— because I sure do 🤣🤣🤣
She gaped at him for a moment. And then she pounced.
He barely had time to laugh before she crashed into him, sending a wave of bathwater over the side. It hit the floor with an impressive splash.
She gripped his shoulders. “Retribution!”
She shoved him backwards, reaching for the spots on each side of his ribs they both knew would make him squirm helplessly.
He twisted at the last second, and they both lost what little purchase the smooth enamel offered. Limbs tangled. His knee bumped the side of the bath. Another tidal wave escaped onto the tiles.
Astarion managed to wriggle free just long enough to slap another palmful of water at her face. She gasped in outrage.
“Again?” she spluttered. “You dare?”
She lunged a second time, laughing now, and succeeded only in dragging them both sideways in a spectacularly undignified heap. A fresh wave caught him square in the face before spilling over the side.
“Ow,” he spluttered through his laughter.
She sat back quickly. “Did I –”
“Good gods woman, why are your elbows so pointy?”
She lifted an arm and examined her elbow. “They seem perfectly norm–”
Her sentence ended in a grunt, because Astarion was not one to miss an opening in battle. Before she could protest, he scooped her over one shoulder and lifted her out of the bath.
“Unhand me lawman!”
“You’ll pay for your crimes,” he intoned, marching toward their bed. “You’ve been caught disregarding good advice.”
“What? I was giving the advice!”
“And assaulting a magistrate.”
“Offering him a drink!”
“And concealing unusually pointy elbows.”
“They weren’t even concealed!”
He unceremoniously dropped her onto the bed. She let out an indignant squeak as she bounced on the mattress.
For a moment, he forgot the joke entirely, struck by the sight of her.
The first time he ever undressed her, he’d told her she was perfect. Even though so much of what he’d done back then was a performance, that had been a truth.
She looked at him now with damp curls framing her face, cheeks flushed pink and laughter lingering in the corners of her eyes. There was water beading on her skin, catching the firelight as she breathed.
She was a nymph carved from marble, brought to life. She was a vicious goddess of light and mischief. She was warmth and comfort and life.
He opened his mouth to tell her how perfect she was. To tell her about the graceful line of her body. About the way her skin glowed, and her horns curved, and her tail –
A pillow hit him in the face.
He growled.
The change in her was immediate. Her eyes widened slightly, the delicate silver rings around her pupils blowing wide. He could hear the flutter of her heart, and it called to something in him.
For a moment, they each simply watched the other.
Then she looked up at him through dark lashes. “What will my punishment be, my Lord?”
His mouth actually dropped open – and he could see the triumph in her face as she registered the surprise in his.
The shock was only momentary though, quickly replaced with something sharper. An ache of desire, low in his belly. A rush of blood, lower still. He let a hungry smile spread across his face – and felt his own flush of triumph as she shifted beneath his gaze, suddenly very aware of herself.
“I might be moved to clemency,” he drawled, voice low. “If you do as I say.”
She hesitated, then nodded.
He looked for any sign of worry in her, wondering whether she’d played these kinds of games before. Wondering how far he could safely push.
She was squirming a little, tail flexing in curls at her side. Her heart was quick, but not fearful. Those beautiful eyes were dark and wide.
He walked over to one of the bedroom chairs, and took his time dragging it back. He made a little show of finding just the right place to put it – to the side of the bed – listening to her breaths the whole time.
Then he took a seat, crossing an ankle over a knee. She watched him like a cat would watch a mouse. Or maybe like a mouse that’s spotted the cat.
He let his eyes fall, very deliberately, to her tail.
“Show me,” he said.
Her heart skipped, and her face betrayed her. Nervous. Shy. Uncertain.
He nearly crossed the room to her.
But there was something else, too. The warmth rising to her skin. The quickening of her pulse. The unmistakable scent of her arousal.
“Please,” he said, the word little more than a husk of a whisper.
She closed her eyes and lay herself down. She swallowed hard, and he watched her take a deep breath, letting the exhale out long and slow. Once again, he considered rising from the chair – but then she moved.
She raised her arms above her head, one hand clasping the opposite wrist as if restraining herself there. Another deep breath, her back arching slightly, before her tail lifted from the mattress.
It rose along the opposite side of her body, curving with the effortless grace of a swan’s neck. For a moment, it stayed there, swaying slightly. Then it dipped low, fin catching the light.
She touched the soft tip to her lips with a sigh, before licking along edge. Her fin trembled briefly, a corresponding shiver running down her body. Tilting her head back, she let the fin drift down her body, tracing her midline.
It was a light touch, he could tell. She tensed and wriggled a little beneath it, as her tail started drawing leisurely shapes over her body.
He followed its path with eyes that burned.
It circled the gentle swell of a breast. Slowly, round and round, leaving goosebumps in its wake as it drew ever closer to the peak. She arched again, just a slight rise of her body, as her fin ghosted over a nipple.
It stayed there for a moment, a gentle stroke back and forth, before moving to the other breast. He stared, completely mesmerised, as she used her tail to meticulously map herself. Her neck, the hollow of her collarbones, the rise of her breasts, the dip of her waist.
Sometimes she used the very tip, and that made her twitch. Sometimes she flattened the fin against her skin like a fan, and that made her sigh and writhe.
All the while, her hands stayed clasped above her head.
The shapes she drew meandered lower, inching closer to where she was squeezing her thighs together. A circle around a hip bone, a winding drag low over her tummy, a soft caress of the opposite hip.
She was breathing faster now, and he could smell she was slick and needy. He was painfully needy himself, actually. He took a breath and purposefully loosened his grip on the armrests.
She hesitated.
He wanted to tell her how beautiful she was. How badly he ached for her. But he held his breath, afraid any sound might bring the moment to an end.
She spread her legs.
He stifled the groan that vibrated up his chest.
She let her fin glide lower over a hip. It canted to the side, weaving to the outer thigh, before switching direction, snaking back over and bobbing along her inner thigh.
She made a small sound, her body tensing and shifting in place, as if she found it difficult to hold still.
He was finding it difficult to hold still too.
When her fin pressed against her core, she whined softly. Her tail stroked lower, before dragging back up, glistening with her need. She seemed to forget any hesitation then, lifting her knees so her tail could wind tight between her legs and under a thigh.
She tilted her hips, rocking them up and down in a sinuous sway. Between her thighs, her tail flexed with a movement he hadn’t seen before. A kind of undulating pulse that pressed and released as it slid against her – small movements that echoed the rocking of her hips.
Every part of her was a study in coordinated motion, like a dancer. Her arms, tensed above her still, seemed to anchor her in place, while her lithe body rolled in slow waves. Her lips parted, panting little breaths in time with the rhythm of her movement.
He couldn’t believe he’d never seen anything like this.
She started moaning, and her efforts to suppress the sounds turned them into little mewling noises – his favourite.
He couldn’t take it. He gripped the hard length of himself, gritting his teeth as he matched his strokes to her steady pace.
He didn’t know how long he watched her move.
It was forever.
It was no time at all.
He never wanted it to end.
But it was about to end very quickly, for him at least.
She was speeding up, and he could tell she was close to coming apart from the tension in her body, the arch of her spine, the way her breathing shallowed almost to a stop.
“Rin,” he gasped.
She opened her eyes and turned her face – flushed, beautiful – to him. Her gaze dropped down to where he touched himself, and she whined at the sight.
“Come for me, love.”
Her eyes rolled back and she cried out as her body seized and shattered.
He never took his eyes off her as he allowed himself to fall apart too.
*******
He recovered first, quietly fetching a towel for himself before padding back to the bed with another for her.
She lay where she fell, and he couldn’t help but grin at her. Dazed and limp and all twined in her own tail still.
When he knelt next to her and started unwinding her tail, she muttered protests and tried to bat him away ineffectually.
“Hush, darling,” he murmured.
He gently cleaned her before tossing the towel aside and pulling a blanket over the both of them. She curled into him, and for the second time that evening, he felt utterly content.
A tiny sniffle pulled him from his cozy thoughts.
“Are you… crying?”
“No,” she sniffed.
He cupped her face and tilted her head so he could see her eyes. Little liar.
“What’s the matter?”
“I don’t know,” she said, with a little laugh. She wiped at an eye. “I just seem to be leaking?”
He tucked a curl behind her ear. “Are you sad?”
“No,” she said.
“Maybe I’ll just hold you then and see if the leaking stops?”
“That sounds good.”
She settled against him again, and he held her close, a nose in her hair so he could breathe the scent of her.
After a little while, there was a whisper, muffled against his chest.
“I’ve never shown anyone.”
“Then this was a gift, and I am honoured. You are amazing.” He pressed a kiss to her head. “Not to mention unbelievably hot.”
Her laugh was sudden and loud, and he realised he’d been wrong before, because actually, this was utter contentment.
