#Astarion’s Blanket

[pickel182]

The Astarion’s blanket chapter because this has lived I my head rent free for MONTHS

Gods, he’s going to the the death of me, Tav thought to herself.

Well, technically already had been, but since he’d revived her after, maybe that time didn’t count. He fed as she laid beneath him near the fire, he cradled her head in one hand as the other arm bore most of his weight. He hummed contentedly against her neck and she very unsuccessfully stifled a moan.

“Listen to you,” he cooed into her ear. “Seems I’m not the only one enjoying this.” He collected the blood that had pooled around the twin marks in her flesh with a long lick, brushing his lips lightly at the skin above and below the bite before latching back on. She whimpered, the hand already in his hair tangling further, tugging lightly as if she couldn’t help herself.

Astarion quite liked the effect he had on her. He reveled in the noises she tried to contain, her little shakes of excitement as he drank languidly, in no hurry to end their little tryst. He enjoyed how tightly her breasts were pressed against him, and he sighed at the warmth spreading from her soft thighs squeezing against his strategically placed knee. He had paced himself much better this time to avoid getting carried away, and was delighted to find his companion so thoroughly pleased by the sensation of feeding him.

Her hand at his lower back was pulling him down toward her, and he was all too happy to comply by lowering his body to hers. He had held himself well in check until that point, considering he had been hard since the moment her blood hit his tongue.

She pressed into him wantonly and he groaned into her neck, rolling his hips to meet hers.

“Is this what you wanted, pet?” He asked, voice rougher than he intended.

She replied by bringing her tongue around the delicate point of his ear, nibbling softly as he shuddered against her.

He pushed up on one arm, eyes lidded with lust, his voice laced with warning. “Careful, darling, or you’ll get exactly what you want, right here in the middle of camp.”

She knew all her sense had left her then, as she met his eyes and asked,

“Do you promise?”

The bloodstained grin he gave her in answer did something to her lower body that made her arch up into him.

He inhaled the suddenly much more intense scent of her arousal and it made his eyes nearly roll back in his head. “Tell me what you want, dearest, I want to hear you,” he purred as he rubbed his nose along her jawline. She brought her legs around his hips to close whatever space remained between them, rocking upwards to grind against the bulge in his trousers.

“Bite me again.”

He lost the mental capacity for words. He managed to whimper “fuck,” before pinning her wrists on either side of her and roughly biting down on the unmarked side of her neck. He began to grind himself into her in time with each pull of her blood. She moaned and writhed beneath him, matching his movements desperately in search of friction.

He was going to come if this went on much longer, but he was too lost in her to care, until he felt her go stiff beneath him.

“Astarion, wait.”

With tremendous effort, he drew back from her. He searched her eyes in answer and found her blushing even more than she had been.

He had been so caught up that he hadn’t heard Shadowheart approach before hearing the voice above them.

“Ugh, I hate to spoil the mood, but I’m not sure that using supernatural strength to pin the woman you killed not three days ago is best practice for keeping her alive.”

The nosey bitch! He thought, despite the fact that he actually liked the cleric. The potential competition for Tav’s attention wasn’t an immediate concern, considering the state of her beneath him. He liked that Shadowheart didn’t seem as eager as the rest of the group to spill her guts and take pity on every poor soul they encountered. But that was before she had ruined his fun.

“I am perfectly able to control myself now, thank you very much.” He responded, glaring before laving his tongue over the new bite at Tav’s neck to close up the wound.

Shadowheart was not going to miss an opportunity to tease Astarion. Both to take him down a peg and poke a bit of fun at Tav for her questionable taste in company. “Terribly sweet, that she was your first. Not sure I’d keep feeding someone who killed me just because they’d been on a diet for a century or two, though.”

Astarion glowered. He changed his mind. He hated Shadowheart.

Tav moved to stand and peeled him off of her, despite his best pout. Her sense and capacity for shame returned to her. Hells, what is wrong with me? In the middle of camp? She was going to have to put her self control back in place right away to have any hope of functioning tomorrow. She was blushing and still a little out of breath from being flustered, so she was more breathless than she’d like when she spoke to Astarion. “Maybe we should get some rest, there’s a long day ahead of us tomorrow, traveling to the grove.”

Astarion considered her shift in mood and decided to change his approach. He made a show of looking as poorly as possible to complain, “But darling, I’d only just started supper… before getting distracted.” He made his eyes as large and sad as possible as he wrung his hands, the very image of contrition.

Tav turned her eyes heavenward, either for an intervention, or forgiveness for being so fucking weak, she wasn’t sure which.

She sighed. “Only what you need, and then sleep. Agreed?”

He nodded solemnly, one hand on his chest.“ Cross my heart, and hope to…” he trailed off, before adding with a smirk, “well, I’ll be good.”

She shook her head at his terrible joke and smiled despite herself. “Come on then. Shadow has first watch, so you can finish up in my tent and then I’m going to bed.”

Yes! He thought to himself. He couldn’t contain his fangy grin, and gestured with a flourish for Tav to lead the way. He valiantly fought and lost to the urge to stick out his tongue at the cleric.

Shadowheart scoffed. “In your tent?” So eager to offer yourself to our lady of loss? Suit yourself then. See you tomorrow…I hope.” She narrowed her eyes at Astarion and added under her breath, “fucking leech.”

“Cultist bitch.” He replied with a wink. Maybe Astarion liked her after all.

**********************

Astarion ducked into Tav’s tent behind her, aware of how being interrupted earlier might have just worked in his favor. He found that he was almost as eager to see the inside of her tent as he was to be alone with her in it.

Tav spent much more time letting their other companions talk than she did about herself, and he wanted to know more about her than she had been willing to share so far. This was all a part of the design of course, his excitement was surely just that of a plan coming to fruition.

The tent was just tall enough in the middle for them both to stand. Off to one side she had arranged her bedroll with various cushions, covered in a small patchwork quilt. She lit a candle, setting it’s holder back down on the crate that served as her nightstand. On her other side were two stacks of books with a plank of wood balanced across the top, holding a small velvet pouch, and a shirt that looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t quite place why.

Astarion watched her intently as she sat down on her bed and leaned against a cushion, crossing her ankles. “Well,” she shrugged and gestured around her with a smile, “Welcome home, what little I’ve tried to make of it anyway.”

He looked around and saw a few more small crates on their sides, littered with baubles of different kinds, glass bottles, stones, and dried flowers. She had a tree branch dug into the ground near the sewing table, its small broken limbs serving as storage for a few rings, necklaces and fabric scraps. Somehow, it did seem less like a tent and more like a home. He rather liked it.

He knelt down at the foot of the bed to join her, and she pulled her knees in to give him more space to settle down.

Tav was sure that by now he’d have started pushing his luck to pick up where they’d left off. She considered that the intense desire she felt earlier might have been a chemical consequence of the bite, at least in part. Before their endeavor, she hadn’t been in the habit of being dinner for vampires, so she had no way to be sure. Even if she were to ask, he might not know, since she had been his first. She had started to tug at her rings and the ends of her shirt sleeves as she thought.

Astarion wondered where her mind had gone as she began to fidget. She had never struck him as shy before. Although he wasn’t sure what caused her hesitation, he knew there wouldn’t be anything more physical that evening. Had this been any other night before their adventure, he would have employed every temptation in his arsenal to secure his master’s prey.

But here in the candlelight with her, the far off-look in her eyes felt too familiar. How many times had his eyes wandered to another place before the inevitable? Before whoever he was with, mark or master, took what they wanted? After the first few hundred times, he stopped counting. He reached toward her and held out his hand.

His movement pulled her out of her thoughts. Oh, right. He still needed to feed. She offered her wrist, but looked up in confusion when he turned her hand and laced his fingers through hers. He shook his head as he gave her fingers a light squeeze. The unexpected gesture and intensity of his gaze set a new wave of heat across her face.

He smirked at her reaction. “Welcome back, darling. As curious as I am about what’s on your mind, there’s something else I’m dying to know.”

She laughed, surprised at how much more relaxed she felt all of the sudden. “How can I still blush about holding hands after what happened earlier? I’m not sure either. Color me shocked.”

There she is, he thought, as a genuine smile spread across his face at her response. Her hand was so warm. He wanted to unlace his fingers and hold her hand in both of his to savor the feel of it. He resisted the urge in case it seemed desperate- or worse - she took her hand away.

“Diverting as it is, I’m even more intrigued about your having Gale’s shirt on your table.”

She really laughed then, eyes crinkling as she regarded his quizzical expression.

“He got a few rips in it the other day. Apparently Mystra’s chosen doesn’t know any cantrips to keep them from pulling back open. I agreed to fix it so long as I didn’t hear anything else about ‘the weave’ for the rest of the night.”

He tilted his head in interest. “I didn’t know you could sew.”

“You’d be amazed at the things you’d learn if you’d ask. But I guess that wouldn’t be very broody of you.” She teased, letting go of his hand to give his knee a playful shove.

He frowned and held his hand back out, and she laughed before offering hers again. He took her hand in both of his, rubbing her knuckles lightly with his thumb. He rolled his eyes “Better late than never, I suppose.” He had noticed some of her fabric scraps matched the blanket spread beneath them. “Did you make this?” He patted the quilt.

“I did!” She knew it wasn’t fancy by any means, but she had taken care to make it by hand, and was proud of how it turned out.

His eyes focused on their hands. He pursed his lips in thought as he ran his thumb over her knuckles again. Tav thought he looked conflicted about something. When he met her eyes again, Tav was surprised to see him look so vulnerable as he spoke.

“Can I show you something?”

“Of course.” She replied immediately. She was eager to see what had caused him to expose what looked suspiciously like genuine emotion.

He kept a hold of her hand as he stood. “It will only take a moment.”

She followed him out of her tent and into his. While he opened a chest at the foot of his bed roll, she took in her surroundings. Several piles of books littered the area, along with a crate that was suspiciously full of valuable looking loot, and a few bottles of wine varying in fullness.

Astarion turned back toward her holding a pile of fabric that upon closer inspection, appeared to be a very worn blanket.

“I’ve had this for a very long time. I’ve only been able to repair what I can by having read a few books, but I think what it needs is beyond my level of expertise.”

Tav normally would take the opportunity to tease him about being so sentimental. But her better judgment told her it was taking great effort for him to let her see so much of him in that moment.

She reached out to rub the material between her fingers as gently as possible. She was confident it could be saved, but she’d have to make sure he was comfortable with the ideas she had in mind. She can’t imagine the trouble he’s gone through to keep it all this time, considering what she knew of the general nature of his life before the tadpole. After Shadowheart had decked the shit out of him, Tav had only agreed to let him continue to feed on her if he was honest about his condition and what had left him in his current state. Full disclosure was an important part of consent, and he had agreed that was fair.

She was confident in her abilities, and it felt nice that he’d trust her with the request.

“I know it’s seen better days, but you’ve done the best you could in taking care of it, considering.” She regarded the cloth again carefully before continuing. “I’m glad it found its way out here to me.” When Tav looked up to meet his eyes, she wished she could tell him she didn’t just mean the blanket.

Astarion felt the tadpole wriggle behind his eye, just before he heard her thought as clear as if she’d said it out loud. The unpredictable telepathic link was a side effect of their illithid parasites. His eyes widened immediately, and he felt his stomach do a little flip.

Shit. She thought, as soon as she realized what had happened. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push through.” She hoped he didn’t think that she’d been snooping in his mind.

“No, I know, darling, no need to apologize.” He cleared his throat to get a hold of his sudden well of emotion. “Gods know I like you bleeding, be it the heart or elsewhere,” he purred, as he returned the blanket to the chest.

She rolled her eyes and smiled, shaking her head. “You’re terrible.”

“We both know you like it.” He teased with a raised brow as he turned back to face her. He sighed as he faced her again. Astarion wasn’t ready to let her go, but they really did have a long day planned for tomorrow. “We should both try and get some rest, pet.” He took her hand to place a light kiss on her knuckles.

“You’re right,” she replied as she held onto his hand a little longer than she intended as she turned to leave. “Goodnight, Astarion.”

“Goodnight, Tav. Sweet dreams.”

He used her name. She wasn’t sure she’d heard him say it out loud before, certainly not when speaking to her. It was nice.

She felt her exhaustion take over as she entered her own tent and settled into her bed. Just as she drifted out of consciousness, she heard his voice in her mind.

“I’m glad, too.”

*************

TikTok Link to a video a wonderful creator made about his blanket 😭

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPR7KWVea/

[spacebarbarianweird]

Astarion's Tent

Has anyone paid attention to how Astarion's tent reflect on his personality?

The exteriour side is clean and elegant. There are pillows, a carpet, an expensive mirror, even a fucking plant (headcanon - Astarion is into gardening). His tent is probably the most well-maintained in the whole camp.

But take a look inside (it's difficult since he blocks the entrance) - it's a mess.

There are empty bottles with blood (as if he is an alcoholic who doesn't bother to take out the garbage). There is no bed (Halsin is also an Elf but he has a bedrol in his tent) - it's just wooden plank, a piece of rag for a blanket and some sorry excuse for a pillow. His tent is a mess like this room who belongs to an addict or a depressed person. It's dirty, full of garbage. And he doesn't have a comfortable place for sleep!

All the good things (new and clean) he has are put out in the front to others to see. When people pass by they see this beautiful picture of a gedonist-magistrate who wants everything to be in order. Dare to look inside - it's a completely different picture.

[andsylphy]

Bloodless? 🩸

[finderedacted]

[justporo]

Ok random and very self-indulgent idea that I just had and need to write down because I will forget falling asleep otherwise:

What if, like a hundred years after Tav passed and Astarion went on without them, still mourning them, he goes on to become famous? Not really your knight in shiny armour but like he becomes sort of a legend, an icon people talk about, make artworks for, write stories and ballads about (very much like this fandom tbh).

And there's this one young, really dedicated elven artist that keeps painting him - over and over again, to a point where they are actually known for their works of Astarion. This young artist has simply been smitten by the vampire since like... forever. Since they could think because they just can't get them out of heir head, for whatever reason.

And finally at one point they meet. Of course Astarion is flattered, the artist is starstruck and coy. They cross paths again more often, becoming a kind of unlike friends because they do actually like each other.

But there is something more about them Astarion finds, a haunting familiarity. It's in the way they look at him, how they angle their head or laugh.

And with a bit of shock Astarion realises: it's you, it's the love of his life reincarnated.

Because soulmates will always find each other again. You just don't remember it yet.

[mistercrowbar]

A girlfriend is a weighted blanket that bites you

[swordmaid]

shri’iia in the act 1 tiefling party, drunk and miserable bc she’s still in denial abt her oath breaking 😔🫶

[gibsby]

i think he deserves to be held

[tendermiasma]

I really like your OC Clover! Can you tell us about what his relationship with the other companions is like and what he thinks about them?

Thanks so much! Clover kept intensely to himself for a pretty long time, outside of his services as a caster. He doesn't think of himself as a wizard. His exposure to "wizards"-- their schools, their philosophy, their mannerisms, the way they talk and talk and the inflection of their voices steeped in decades of it-- that was an entire world that was so foreign to him. It felt like he was being shoved into a body that wasn't his when they'd speak to him with familiarity, as if he knew how. Those who've asked him if he's a wizard get the response "I can do magic." That's all to say that he and Gale grew to be sort of silent comrades in a deep arcane trauma; that there was something inside them that couldn't be fixed and may still be the end for them.

And before I digressed I meant to say that he came to love his companions so fiercely, even if it's hard for him to casually invite himself in. He'd die for them in a heartbeat and, horrifyingly, he thinks some of them might too. He needs them in a way where in his heart of hearts, he knows he couldn't be alone again.

He let Karlach pierce his ears. She gave him little red ones "so they match". He would do anything as long as she was the one asking.

Sometimes a family is a collection of tents truly

[gummiisnax]

your blood, what matter is it made of?

alt version + details and symbolism explanations under the cut

these were for uni homework, and this version is the one i ended up going with! the first one is digital, and the second one is traditional - i was up until an ungodly hour trying to finish painting the red background in time for the deadline. i prefer the first version, but i still think this one is rad tbh. i got 100/100 points on it! drawing astarion was the most time consuming part, but also the most rewarding TvT

the morning glories are there due to their association with rebirth and light after darkness! cazador's rules are made from splicing together words/passages from a kjv bible from the internet archive. the hands are actually from my first and also current playthrough!

[rawrsatthetree]

I can’t stop thinking about Astarion’s ratty ass blankie that he has at every camp and even on his bed at Elfsong.

[pickel182]

For all my fellow saps with sentimental attachments to things, I wrote a BG3 WIP where Astarion is mending his blankey while figuratively making designs on Tav.

They returned to camp, everyone mostly to their own devices as Gale and Wyll squabbled about the most artful way to plate dinner. Astarion sat in front of his tent mending a hole in his blanket. He had been taken by the nautiloid during a rare moment of idle time, laying on that blanket looking up at the sky in the garden of the Szarr mansion. The clothes on his back had been his only possession, other than the quilt he’d been relieved to find amongst the wreckage of the crash. He’d been buried with that blanket. Holding on to it for two centuries of pure shit had left almost more holes than fabric, but he couldn’t seem to give up on it. For now he’d do his best and stow it away for safe-keeping.

Astarion’s gaze shifted to the fire, where the rest of the group had gathered to eat. Wyll was standing and gesturing animatedly, pantomiming killing some great beast as he told one of his countless stories of heroism on the frontier. Tav had taken a seat across from his tent (surely on purpose, he told himself). He watched as she whispered discreetly to Shadowheart, nudging her lightly, and tilting her head towards Wyll. Shadowheart snorted and threw her hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. Wyll stopped mid flail to glare, and Tav just shrugged feigning innocence. Wyll continued on, and Shadowheart elbowed Tav before scooting closer into her side.

That could be a problem, he thought to himself. Astarion had no illusions about what skills his life in the shadows had left him. He had seduced thousands, an endless parade of lovers, while using himself as bait to bring back dinner for his master. Pleasure was just one tool he had perfected to guarantee survival. He had honed his abilities as a rouge to slip from shadow to shadow, unseen and unheard. This was a crucial development during his servitude, ensuring the successful slaughter of anything meant to cause harm, as well as to make himself as small and insignificant as possible to avoid the murderous ire of his master.

He had already proven himself a valuable asset in battle, but they could all fight in their own way. He needed to make himself indispensable, not likely to be discarded if his abilities weren’t of use in the coming days. He watched as Tav met his gaze across the camp. He gave her his most suggestive wink, and she rolled her eyes and averted her gaze as a blush crept across her chest and cheeks. It would be easy to put his gentler skills to work with her. He’d just have to ignore the way it made his stomach feel sour. Now was not the time to grow a conscience.

Find the rest below if you’d like, more blanket work, drama, and silly camp life to follow ♥️♥️

[acepalindrome]

Look, I understand it would have undermined the raw emotion of the scene that was rightly centered on Astarion finally confronting the full weight of his trauma, but I still don’t like there there isn’t an option to comfort him when he’s on the ground ugly sobbing.

[falmarindecarme]

The first piece of art i was able to create after pouring 100+ hours of my life into this game and becoming slighty addicted 👀

Update! I uploaded the design to my redbubble if you want a print. First link in my linktree (marked as mature content because of the blood)

[oriixxc]

Magistrate Astarion (None of those shits happened version)

[bananastarion]

My thing with Astarion is, yes he's beautiful, handsome, sexy, all of those things and more. But above all he is * adorable * to me.

He literally does the same thing to my brain that cats do, it's wild.

In much the same way that I can get an instant serotonin/oxytocin hit from looking at pictures of cute cats all day, despite being surrounded by cats at home that also trigger these feelings, Astarion also seems to be a bottomless well of happy chemicals for my brain.

You know that feeling when something is just sooooo cute you just have to start babbling nonsense babytalk about wanting to squeeze it and love it and nurture it and protect it forever and ever and maybe put it in a silly little hat and boop its nose and spin around with it under a rainbow

It's that feeling, there's just something so fucking cute about this borderline evil, middle aged looking vampire man and idk what it is but HE IS and I know he'd HATE being seen/treated that way SO much (understandably)

but if we were together IRL I would have one hell of a time maintaining my composure around him trying not to babytalk about his widdle teefies and god help us if his pointy ears ever twitch or wiggle because i would be in tears babbling incoherently about the cuteness

Astarion would probably murder me and id still be making the 🥹 face the whole time