#astation bg3

[sorn-orlith]

[Slight NSFT | Astarion x m!Tav headcanons]

Perhaps Tav is religious. Perhaps he’s shy. Perhaps he grows faint at the sight of blood. However it came to be, when he finds Astarion’s fangs inches from his neck, Tav’s first instinct is to reach for the dagger he keeps tucked in his boot.

The initial reaction is what Astarion expected… but Tav’s immediate understanding comes as a surprise. Riding the high, he presses — just a taste?

A definitive no. Right, of course; Astarion will be off now.

But when they chat about it the next day in camp, Tav is once again open-minded. Not only does he encourage his companion to drink from their enemies, he defends him. He trusts him and asserts it in front of all their powerful, wary-eyed friends.

That’s certainly a shock.

And, because Astarion is who he is, he pushes his luck once more. He’s seen the way Tav’s eyes linger on his form, the way he always finds a seat next to Astarion despite his distance from the fire. He sharpens his smoothest lines and aims for the heart.

For protection. Obviously. What he doesn’t realize is that Tav has been protecting him this whole time, just like he has everyone else in their ragtag crew. Tav’s devotion has never been a question.

When they reach the cursed blood-dealing drow at Moonrise Towers, Tav only needs to flick his gaze over to the vampire. Astarion tells her on no uncertain terms that he’d rather drink the mystery liquid pooling at the bottom of the oubliette.

They’re intimate that night. Not sexually — Astarion lays himself raw, and Tav lets him explore the nooks and crannies in his brain, every one brimming with love for him. Though he doesn’t need to, Astarion breathes. He smells Tav’s blood, his sweat, his musk intermingled. He wants it all. That night, and every night thereafter, their tents are pitched no more than a few inches from each other.

They’re intimate again the night Cazador is killed. Astarion is raw once again, but he isn’t in need of protecting. No gifts, no exchanges. Just two souls in need of respite.

Their kisses are slow, deep; Astarion breathes in everything he did the night of Moonrise and more. It sparks longing — a different type of hunger. One the pair indulges together, not taking but giving and losing themselves in each others touch. They come undone, one after the each, on each others hands, bodies pressed so closely together it’s as though they share one beating heart.

[askastarion]

If you could either become mortal again or become an evil master vampire, what would you pick?

<"Hmm... To be a mortal, or to be an endless being with infinite power of dominion over others, with people throwing themselves at your feet and begging you to let them be your after dinner cocktail?">

It sounds awful...

Ah... I suppose you won't stop bothering me until I give you a serious answer, will you? No. I have no desire to return to mortality. I would be alive still if i was still an elf, all things going according to plan. But I have plans to stay kicking for a long time more. There are two different types of people in this world... Those who get trodden on, and those with the power to do the treading. I learned what side I was on when I was turned.

Though, I admit... It would be nice to be able to walk freely in the sun again... And cross a river without having to shut my eyes.

[transparentkittenheart]

Sex in a bed:

Boring, predictable, you might need to sleep in the wet spot.

Sex on your undead lovers grave:

Goth, silly, is some sort of symbolism about claiming your own life back, the leg thing.

[azurelyy]

Let's see if I've been shadowbanned by tumblr for not posting in forever. Also, let's see if this gets flagged for me not knowing the TOS anymore LOL. I know most of my followers are here for Naruto content and I am so sorry that this fucking vampire elf has taken over my brain so much that he's the first thing I've written about in forever!

Title: A Bloody Affair

WARNINGS: NSFW beneath the cut. Period oral. F!reader. Astarion goes feral. Fem!reader. Established relationship and slight Act II spoilers. This is just a drabble(ish... I got carried away lmao), but I haddddd to. I’m aware this has been done to death (no pun intended).

His vermillion eyes were darker than usual as you all sat around the firelight, enjoying a hot meal after an unusually hard day of travel. Specks of orange flickered in his gaze like shooting stars through Avernus’ red-hot sky. His hands were tightened into leadened fists by his sides, his lips formed together in a thin line. He’s hungry, and he’s not even trying to hide it.

Amused, you tilted your head to the side, exposing the faded bite marks from when you last allowed him to feed on you a few weeks ago.

“Everything alright, Astarion?” You hummed. “You look pale. Well, paler than normal.”

Astarion laughed, a dark and twisted thing that left your stomach in knots. Would you ever learn to stop teasing him? It only ends badly for you. Every. Time.

“Me? Oh, I’m just fine.” His eyes slowly trailed down your body, locking onto your midsection before flicking back to your face. “You, however,” his fangs glistened in the pale moonlight as he smiled. “You look a little… hot. Too close to the fire, perhaps? Your cheeks are absolutely flushed, my dear.”

And they were. Knowing what the two of you had agreed to out on the battlefield earlier. Awaiting the moment everyone else fell into a deep slumber while you had to sit there, your thighs clamped together as thoughts of Astarion’s tongue ravishing at your core filled your head… It was torturous. Worse than anything Loviatar could come up with.

Karlach scoffed and playfully covered her ears. “Guys! No flirting around the bonfire, pleeeease. It’s hard enough I’ve gone so long without touching someone. I can’t sit here listening to you two flirt all night on top of it.”

You laughed and whispered a soft 'sorry' while Astarion merely hummed his acknowledgement. The rest of the evening was a blur, your mind occupied elsewhere entirely. Finally, when the sounds of snores filled the air and the last of the firelight flickered away, you got up from your bedroll and slowly made your way to Astarion’s tent.

The flap was left partially open and you found Astarion fumbling with a book. He looked distracted, almost like he wasn't reading it at all. The moment you got to the tent entrance, his eyes were upon you - dark, hungry, lustful. You smiled, heat creeping its way up your neck and cheeks, as Astarion swiftly closed the book and tossed it aside.

“Don’t tell me I have to invite you in, darling,” he drawled. “Come here.”

He reached his hand out and you took it gently as he guided you to sit down in his lap. He sighed and nosed his way up the side of your neck, gently swiping his tongue along your still-healing fang marks. His arm wrapped around your midsection, pushing your back against his chest. He's cold, and a small shiver snaked its way down the entirety of your spine as he chuckled a low, "Sorry, pet."

Sweet kisses made their way from your neck to your jaw, until Astarion gently nipped at your earlobe, his free hand slowly roamed up and down your body, squeezing and grabbing at your stomach playfully.

You moaned gently, running your fingers through his silver locks. Astarion's breath hitched in his throat and he slid his hand down to your thigh. His arousal poked into your ass and you rocked in his lap gently; teasingly. His hand became more desperate as he grabbed at your thigh, thrusting his hips gently. You turned your head and ghost your lips over his, meeting his gaze.

His tongue clicked against his teeth as he stared at you. You twisted his hair round your index finger and smile up at him wantonly. The two of you hadn't been intimate since his confession a few weeks ago. You have let him feed on you since then, but never initiate anything sexual. You wanted him to do it. Wanted for it to be organic. He was the best thing that had happened to you in a long time, and you wanted him to know it; to feel it; to be unable to deny your love for him.

Astarion kissed your forehead tenderly, his sweet mouth cool to the touch against your heated skin. He had been surprisingly gentle with you since his confession. Weary, you knew. He had to fight against his instincts every day, doing what he could to unlearn his past behaviors of doing someone else's bidding. It was going to take time, you knew that. You were okay with it. But when he looked at you like this, when he kissed you softly, it made your heart melt completely. You loved him. You'd never say it first, of course, but the feeling was undeniable to you now. Gods, he was going to fucking ruin you.

His mouth captured yours in a searing kiss. His tongue parted your lips and hungrily dominated the kiss as Astarion flipped you over, pushing you down onto his bedroll. His hands were everywhere - in your hair, on your stomach, rolling down your sides. Yours did the same, needily pawing at his body as you wrapped a leg around his waist and gently clawed at his shirt trying to get it off.

He broke away, his tongue sliding from your mouth slowly. His breathing was ragged, not as controlled as it had been in the past. You realized he's letting go, not forcing himself with you. He's being... real. It's so sweet you nearly ruined the moment by blurting out a stupid confessional right then, but as if sensing your anxiety, Astarion simply smirked devilishly.

"You look beautiful," he whispered. "And you smell even better. I'm going to enjoy tasting you tonight." His voice was sultry and hypnotic, practically intoxicating. You squirmed under him nervously as he adjusted to his knees and leaned over to unhook the latch of the tent, leaving you both immersed in nothing but the flickering candle light.

He was back over you in an instant, untucking his shirt from his trousers and over his head, tossing it to the corner of the tent. His body never ceases to amaze you. His skin is made of pure moonlight, pale and annoyingly perfect, with abs that would put even the most acclaimed gods to shame. Astarion winked and pushed his knee to your inner thigh, spreading you open like a tome as his hands glided across your body.

Your heart thundered within your chest as he stripped you of your undershirt, delicately removing the straps like a present. The sting of the cold night air hit your exposed nipples and they puckered from the temperature change. Astarion's practiced hands moved up the length of your arms, guiding them up above your head and he captured your wrists together in his grip, trapping you under him.

He kissed his way down your temple, your cheek, your neck; gently licking his way down your exposed flesh until his tongue rolled around your areola teasingly.

You glanced down and met his burgundy gaze. His pupils were completely blown out with lust and he continued watching you as he sucked your nipple into his mouth, allowing his tongue to swipe over it gingerly. With a loud gasp you closed your eyes, letting the sensation of his tongue completely overwhelm you. His hand dragged its way from your wrists and his thumb and index finger grip your other nipple as he suckles hard, causing your hips to buck and another garbled moan to fall from your traitorous throat.

A wet 'pop' echoed through the tent as his mouth released you. Astarion growled, actually growled, as he slid his hands up your arms again and gripped your wrists, harder this time.

"Hush now, my sweet," his words were sugary but his tone commanding. "I don't want you waking the whole campground. If you do it again, I'll have to force you to be quiet. Understood?"

You nodded in response.

"Sorry, Starry," you whispered. 

He had started making work of dragging your trousers down the length of your legs but stopped abruptly at your apology.

"Don't be sorry, love," he said. "Just don't do it again."

You were way past the point of being turned on - you were practically going mad with arousal as he removed your pants and slowly kissed his way down the length of your stomach. You kept your hands placed above your head, nervous about what he may do if you dared to touch him. It was exhilarating. Filthy. The blood at your core was dripping to the rag placed between your thighs and your pulse quickened as Astarion's mouth worked its way towards your cunt.

Lust-stricken and dizzy, your vision blurred as he gently pulled down your panties with his index fingers, testing you. He was working slowly, playing with his food. Such a tease.

You squirmed beneath him and clenched the muscles in your thighs, eagerly anticipating his mouth against your sopping pussy. A chill ran down your spine as your panties were fully removed, and you suddenly became all too aware of what was about to happen. You peered at the silver-haired man above you through your eyelashes and were pleased to find him entranced by what you were sure was a bloodied, messy affair and your panic decreased ever so slightly. Of course a vampire spawn wasn’t going to shy away from some blood… no matter the source. 

"You know," you did your best to keep your voice calm and gentle. "That we don't have to do this if it's too much, right?" Even though Astarion was the one to propose this little midnight rendezvous, you couldn't help the small sting of fear from creeping its way to the forefront of your mind. You didn't want him to feel any pressure. And you now knew how hard intimacy was for him. You couldn't believe how blind you had been before; how obvious the façade he put on for you was in hindsight, and you weren't going to allow him to put himself in a position like that again. Not ever.

A low chuckle rumbled from the man below you and you almost passed out from how good his breath felt against the thin veil of fabric covering his mouth from where you needed him most. You tried to shut the thoughts of your arousal out as you waited for his answer, but it never came. Instead, he responded with his tongue gently sliding filthily down the blood-stained cloth that was slowly being removed by his deft hand. Astarion’s voice was nearly indistinguishable to you as he ripped the cloth away, pure gravel.

“If I didn’t want to,” he murmured, placing a kiss on your entrance. “Then you wouldn’t be naked in my tent, love. No more talking now.”

His tongue zig-zagged its way through your pussy before you had a full chance to take in his response, and a loutish moan escaped from deep within your throat as the air was filled with a symphony of lewd slurps. His breath was icy from how aching and seething your cunt was for him, and chill after chill overcame your body with each swipe of his practiced tongue. 

He moved your legs to his shoulders as he continued lapping at you like a dehydrated mutt, completely feral for you. Your thighs clamped against his head and you dug your nails into the pillow, clinging desperately onto something to give your soul purchase to the Earth lest it be transported to the fifth dimension. His arms looped under your thighs and he sunk his nails deep into your flesh, marking you as his while he continued licking you desperately. His mouth was rolling over your folds and sucking at you raunchily - every single move he made was audibly wet and absolutely filthy. It was amazing. You were afraid he might lose control, and you almost yanked at his hair to rip him off you, but his tongue slowed then and rolled up the length of your cunt before circling your clit. 

You whined greedily as you rocked your hips, trying to maneuver his tongue to your engorged nub without permission. Astarion immediately withdrew his tongue then, licking his way down to your inner-thigh and kissing your slick skin before piercing you with his sharp fangs. A frosty sensation shot through your bloodstream and you gasped loudly, tangling your fingers into his hair just as the frigid pulses from where his fangs sunk into you melted to an almost unbearable fever. 

Astarion’s nails were embedded into the soft skin of your hips as he drank from you. Your heart banged against your chest like a prisoner trying to escape from their cell and you were certain it was loud enough that it could be heard by the entire camp. Just as your grip started to loose on his hair, his fangs were replaced by his tongue swiping at the small punctures on your thigh. 

“Such a lovely little treat you are,” Astarion hummed, punctuating it with a final kiss to your thigh. “Thank you.”

Thank you. It was so sincere. So intimate. Two words, yet they held such power over your heart. His mouth was against yours again and your core was burning for him. You were needy. Desperate. Your hips thrust up towards him and he pulled away with a hum. 

“Greedy little thing tonight, I see,” he teased. He smirked down at you and kissed your cheek before moving his mouth once again to hover over your entrance. Two nimble fingers pushed into your core as Astarion’s tongue glided swiftly over your clit. An unfamiliar sound erupted from your chest, a high pitched whine, before his free hand was clamped over your mouth. 

“Shut up.” He commanded, and you were done for. Your hands tugged at his hair hysterically as his tongue circled your clit with a brutal slowness. There was no decency left in you. You were nothing but a husk, awaiting Astarion’s mercy of allowing you the pleasure of coming all over his sweet tongue.

Your teeth sank into the skin of his hand while he fucked you with his mouth. He was loud; slurping and sucking at your pussy like he needed it to survive. The air in the tent was unbearably hot. Your skin was sticky with sweat and your lungs hardly had any oxygen left. Astarion pulled back slightly, his fingers pushing in and out of your entrance with lewd squelching sounds as he demanded, “Look at me.”

Without hesitation, your eyes fluttered open and you watched as he dived his face into your cunt again, his gorgeous eyes locked onto yours. You tried to speak but he only clamped his hand harder over your mouth as he continued lapping at you, the flat of his tongue firmly planted against your clit. The familiar coil in your stomach tightened and then released harshly as you orgasmed, your entire body squirming in delight. Astarion moaned through your orgasm, the timbre of his voice sultry as he drank you in like the most lavish of wines.

“Fuck,” you groaned when Astarion released your mouth. He seductively pulled his fingers out of you and licked off the mess you made on them with a smile before he maneuvered himself to spoon you. 

“Wait,” you said, “I wanted to-”

“Hush, love,” he assured. “I promise I’m content with everything. I want you to be comfortable now. Will you stay with me tonight?”

He nibbled at the top of your ear as his arm wrapped around your middle and brought your body close to his. You hummed and nestled into him, allowing him to be your protective barrier. Being this close to him wasn’t enough. You needed more. You needed to be this close to him forever. He was security. He was warmth. He was home.

You nodded as you felt yourself start to succumb to the unbearable drowsiness from the day, but you clung to his hand in yours as his finger painted pretty pictures on the skin of your stomach. 

“Goodnight, love,” he whispered. “And thank you.”

“For what?” You mumbled, doing your best to fight against the fade of sleep.

There was a brief moment of silence as you listened to the sound of your heartbeat steady itself. Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump. Astarion nestled his face closer, placing a chaste kiss to your cheek and right as you started to drift away, he said the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard.

“For being mine.”

Thank you for reading! If you made it this far, be sure to drop a like or a reblog to support my work <3. I have tons of other stuff on my page if you want to give it a read. This was my first Astarion piece, but I'm sure they'll be plenty more to come because this man singlehandedly got me out of my writing slump!

[thrawns-babygirl]

Okay so like, I understand Vampire spawn probably can't have children right? But I can't stop thinking about the idea of Astarion and Tav having a kid and once the baby is born it doesn't have the same colour eyes as him or Tav and he's confused for a moment until he realises those are his eyes.

The eye colour he can't remember, he can finally see it.

And I'm totally normal about that idea 🫠🙃

[thepunchingbag]

I find it hilarious if Karlach is guilt-tripping herself over dragging her best friend and lover along to the Hells, dragging them into the ultimate pit of horror and gore.

And meanwhile, if she's romanced Astarion, he's like "Don't threaten me with a good time." Mans over here having the time of his life getting into daily bloodbath murderhobo carnage and finding all the blaphemous evil honestly pretty hilarious because he's a grimy little troll at heart. Starts doing insane shit like applying blood on his face and saying it keeps his skin moisturized. He is the perfect bloodthirsty murder gremlin to take with you on your extended stay in the Hells because he is SO unfazed.

[mittensmae]

Trying to use tumblr more often, not sure if I ever posted this here >:) thankyou to Astarion for dragging me out of burnout all those months ago when I made this <3

prints are available on my Etsy btw hehe

[mossy-rossy]

Wanna talk about Bloodweave and the spawn siblings, specifically how Astarions siblings would interact with Gale in that ending where they settle down in the under dark (and gale starts a vampire book club 🤓)

(DISCLAIMER Since don't know too much about Astarions siblings (more so than others) , alot of this is just me having fun and assigning character traits to them according to how I imagine my game went)

Starting with these two!

Dalyria:

I think these two would get along incredibly well! I can see them talking for hours about their respective (sometimes morally dubious) research, boring absolutely anyone within earshot. I think they could bond over some questionable decisions they've made (gale with the orb And Dal with trying to cure her vampirism with Victoria.) and find comfort in one another . Especially since I HC gayle saves Victoria in game but more on that in Leon's section. Out of all the siblings, Dal is the only one Astarion trusts to leave gale alone with.

Also think Dals research leads to gale finding a way for astarion and the others to walk in the sun again. I don't think she joins the book club tho bc Leon is often there and well... Y'know awkward... But gale does leave a book on her desk from time to time.

Petras:

ahh the spawn I love thinking about post game the most bc I think Petras develops a big crush on Gale. I see it being pretty gradual tbh, He doesn't like Gale at first because he's Astarions and Petras has made it a habit to dislike everything about his "older brother" thank you very much (even though I think petras entire coping mechanism is to badly copy everything about astarion bc he subconsciously thinks it was the only way to survive his enslavement, hence they way he talks and Astarions fucking EA outfit, he stole it from Astarions trunk when he disappeared I just know it) .

So yeah I think it's a few months of Petras being huffy around this handsome annoying wizard while Gale continues to be nice to him. One day Gale offers to teach petras magic (he's a teacher by heart!) much like the canon weave scene and it ends with Gale genuinely but naively exclaiming "You're a natural! Why, you've picked it even faster than Astarion did!"

This is cataclysmic.

It's the first fucking time Petras has been better than Astarion in anything. Petras is immediately heart eyes and obnoxiously smug. Astarion is murderous. Leon and Dal stop a murder. Gale is sent to sleep on the couch.

Any potential brotherly reconcilation is destroyed by Astarion overhearing Petras telling Dal that when Astarion fucks this up then Petras will swoop in and marry Gale. Violet begins to cackle as all of her siblings hold Astarion ,whose now willing to lose an arm, back from dragging Petras to the surface

Petras joins the book club just bc Gale's leading it. He does not read anything but pesters Yousen for answers so he can look smart in front of Gale.

Doing the others next time!

[cornbreadcreations]

About Tieflings...

so, Baldur's Gate 3, my Tav is a tiefling, right, and sure, this means i can read infernal and all and help Astarion with his contract but important to know about tieflings is their dietary habits.

tieflings are mostly carnivores, and they like their meat rare, or raw. they dont mind eating the less traditionally savory parts of a carcass, either, such as the gristle and tendons n other stuff like that

and in a pinch can even sustain themselves on ROCKS of all things.

this has led to two realizations

one - my tav *cannot* cook, and this is a long standing joke for me ever since i made my group eat 7 potatoes and a single fish for a long rest, and literally just an entire pile of pears. its a little 'inside joke but only with myself' that Thaeval cannot cook to save their life, just, absolutely awful but no one else wants to do it so they keep at it until Halsin joins the camp and since hes not running around with us as much he handles the cooking like the big father he is but also, a tiefling could absolutely drink a goblet of blood and be just fine.

i could see Thaev enjoying a glass of venison blood with Astarion one evening, or, a scene i like even better

post-game, everyone out getting drinks, and some uppity barhop starts giving Astarion crap because he realizes thats not wine in his glass, but *blood* and as vampire hysteria is just starting to pick up, Thaev comes along, delicately plucks the glass, takes a big swig, and confirms 'nah, just a dry red. dont you ever drink *sweet* wines?' and no other tiefs are present, so whose to question THAT?

i dunno just fun thoughts

[cosmic-nebula356]

Bask in the moonlight🌙

[egginround]

A Nice, Simple Plan

Astarion has a plan to woo Tav. A nice, simple plan that backfires. [or perhaps, he never needed one anyway]

Astarion x Stoic!Tav (she/her) - 3.5k - No CW - Fluff + Astarion learns the power of apology lol - Part of the Elfsong Tavern's 2024 Valentine Exchange for the lovely @leftoverdinosaurbones :)

A wisp of hair curled around her ear. A flex in her fingers as she massaged her knuckles. A near imperceptible twitch in her wrist.

From his tent, Astarion was watching Tav as she sat by the campfire. A book laid open on his crossed legs, the pages smooth as he flicked through them absent-mindedly. The rise and fall of her shoulders, the strings fraying from the bottom of her shirt. Tav was listening in on a story by the famed Blade of Frontiers – one that their tiefling companion couldn’t seem to get enough of. Though the leader of their merry band, she remained quiet, opting to let the warlock do most of the talking.

Barely into his whirlwind of an adventure and peace continued to escape Astarion. Unpleasant wriggling at the back of his skull often kept him distracted at night – but not as much as the fear that dragged down his spine when he thought of Cazador. Astarion quelled his quickened breath. Now was not the time – it was imperative to lure Tav into keeping him by her side. As the unlikely prism-bearer, Tav’s fate was bound to his whether he liked it or not. The fire flickered as she stretched out the day’s toil from her body.

The vampire’s scarlet eyes darted between the members of camp. The wizard was rummaging through his own tent, no doubt finding some cure to his woefully expensive condition, as the Githyanki warrior sharpened her steel nearby. The incessant scraping nearly did Astarion’s head in. Turning back to his target, he caught scrapes of the daring heroism recounted over the fire. Tav’s relaxed demeanour and silence may have made her seem disinterested, but there was a quiet sparkle in her eyes. She must have been engrossed. Maybe self-important tall tales were the key to gaining her trust, he mused.

It was critical that he would be the one to capture her, Astarion reminded himself, and he was willing to do all it took to do so. It would be easy – a mark like any another. He saw the way that Tav lingered around him, the stares she thought he doesn’t notice. Astarion knew it all. He would have her in the palm of his hand and in his bed before long. A strange tightness coiled in him, but he gave it no mind. It didn’t matter – he shook the thoughts away before they had the chance to form. What mattered right now was his revenge and his long-deserved freedom. He refocused his gaze.

The stretch of her shirt across the back of her nape. The glow of the fire on the side of her face, the curve of her cheek, the small quirk in her smile whenever her eyes drifted over to him.

Upon his lap, his book remained unturned.

It had been a draining day. The sun beat down on their backs as they explored the areas west of the Emerald Grove. If there was a single more complaint from Lae’zel about a crèche, Astarion might seriously burst into flames – tadpole included.

To make matters worse, the dusty road they followed was littered with fresh and foul corpses up ahead – and not even of the human variety! The stench of hyena blood hung heavy in the air as the sun seemed intent on intensifying it. Astarion lamented his luck.

“Chk, another distraction in the search for a crèche,” Lae’zel spat out. If she hadn’t mentioned the same thing several times before, Astarion might have been more inclined to listen.

Instead, he lagged back behind the Githyanki, falling into the same pace as their sorcerer leader. If Tav noticed anything, she certainly didn’t say it. Then again, it seemed rare of her to say more than needed. In that respect, she and Lae’zel were strikingly alike.

“It’s a rather sunny day, darling,” he drawled, turning to her. “One spent far better on a sandy beach than on a dry mountain road, no?”

A non-committal hum.

“Ah, well,” Astarion endeavoured, jaw ever so slightly clenched. “Maybe our dear Tav prefers something a bit darker.”

He dragged down his voice to a low whisper for only Tav to hear. “A night under a canopy of stars perhaps? The luxury of a stolen evening away, sharing secrets in the shadows - maybe even a sin or two…”

That seemed to have grabbed her attention. Astarion looked at her through his eyelashes – oh so close to chipping at this near impossible facade when -

“Hold up, soldiers!”

Karlach shouted out, rushing to drag Tav to the forefront of their group. “Something gave these lot a right beating. Something not entirely, hm, natural. Let’s smash it!”

The tiefling’s words begged yet another incoming fight, and Astarion felt the internal sigh building up in him finally give way. A sick cracking of bones rung through the air, and a hells-damned gnoll decided to pop out to ruin his day even more. At least he was able to take out his frustrations in battle.

Crouching to the side, Astarion readied his daggers as he blended into the shadows. Both Lae’zel and Karlach sprung to the front, as they were oft to do, whilst Tav summoned the sorcery that swelled through her blood. The air snapped and crackled, and wisps of her hair warped in the winds that swirled around her. It was strangely captivating. Astarion inched forward to find the perfect opportunity to strike when suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

He smelled the fresh gnoll behind him before he could see it.

Astarion whipped his head around. Its rancid breath hit him like a ton of bricks, knocking out whatever thought he had in his mind. He barely had a second to raise his blades in self-defence when a bolt of lightning shot straight out – hitting the gnoll squarely in the back of its head. The splatter of blood on his cheek was all Astarion could register as the dead body thumped onto the ground, its singed flesh sizzling. He panted as he tried to regain his surroundings. A ringing in his ears. A shaky breath. A small quirk in that damned smile of hers.

Astarion tore through the rest of the pack.

It was pretty much a unanimous decision to camp for the night after their encounter. Though lovers of all things violent and bloody, even these adventurers had to take a break. This particular night found most of them taking time in their own tents. Astarion was no exception.

Nearly a few weeks now, and the snail’s pace of progress with Tav had him nearly tearing his hair out in frustration. It was never often that he had to wait more than a few days to lure someone back for Cazador. And even if it was, he was more likely to find a different victim instead. He took a breath and tried to stop his pacing across the front of his tent. Anymore, and Shadowheart might pick up on his worry – or even worse, share it with Gale.

A frown pulled his eyebrows together. It wasn’t that she didn’t find him attractive … right? Surely not.

An odd feeling burrowed into his mind, uncomfortable and slimy. No, Astarion knew his arsenal of weapons extended past his dexterity with blades and lock picks to his looks, his charm, his way with words. He just had to be patient, that’s all.

He dug around for his sewing kit. It couldn’t hurt to patch up every now and then.

“Looking for something?”

He mentally cursed. Of all the times for Tav to catch him, it just had to be now. Astarion was getting rather fed up with being caught off guard. Regardless, he cleared his throat, ready to entice their favourite sorcerer once more.

“Not now that you’re here, darling.”

She snorted loudly at this. Astarion paused for a moment, taken aback before noticing the wine sloshing around in the goblet she held. Ah, the explanation for her more relaxed demeanour.

Tav took a seat on one of the cushions outside his tent, nursing her glass a little more. The hair she usually had swept up had lost its hold throughout the day. Astarion poured himself a glass from the many stolen bottles of wine they horded before sitting nearby. He settled himself into a more comfortable position, as Tav watched a stray comet streak across the sky. Thoughts in his mind raced as he tried to come up with what to say, but the day’s exhaustion seemed intent to keeping them in disarray.

“Fields,” Tav finally said, out of the blue.

“Um, usually a ‘hello’ or ‘how are you?’ starts a conversation, my dear,” he huffed back. He’s all for a bit of mystery, but Tav often took rather too much liberty. Said cryptic turned to him, eyes peeking over her cup.

“I prefer a grassy field than a beach on a sunny day. Too much sand in the wrong places, harder to remove than blades of grass.” She fiddled with the frays on her blouse.

“Ah,” momentarily stunned, Astarion processed her sudden chattiness before replying. “A sage choice. The quiet of a forest is hard to resist.”

“Mm.”

They fell back into a weird silence.

“What -” Tav cleared her throat. “What do you like?”

She pointedly looked away, her glass now permanently attached to her lip, hiding her face from his discerning eyes. Astarion felt almost tempted to laugh, but the weariness of the day – not to mention the frustrations of their whole predicament – had him feeling strangely raw.

“I like the city,” he opted to reply. “Cesspool of a place, Baldur’s Gate, but it’s one I’ve known my whole life. The way the sun sparkles on the water by the port – it’s a sight that I, um, missed.”

“Hm, I can understand that.”

Tav rocked the dark red wine back and forth in her cup. Above them, stars twinkled through the clouds. A beat passed before Tav stood up abruptly, nearly knocking Astarion back in her haste, as she began to leave. Before she went, she stiffly called out to him.

“We’ll get there. I promise.”

And with that, Tav strode off. His eyes lingered on the covers of her tent flapping shut before he settled into his own. There was a new lightness to his shoulders that soothed itself into his weary bones.

A weird tenseness hung between the two of them after that, one that had him feeling stripped raw. Astarion discovered a strange prickling of his skin whenever he was around her, but a gnawing at his bones when he was not. Distancing himself from her (a tactical retreat, of course), Astarion tried to ponder on these feelings from afar. In battle, he made sure to snipe any long-ranged archers that could interrupt Tav’s spellcasting. During travel, any pickpocket that got close to her was met with a warning glint of a danger and a sudden disappearance of coin. For every step he took away, Tav took one closer. It was now common for her to seek him out at night for a chat about their pasts, or to simply watch the sky above. Whatever felt constantly lodged in his throat seemed to give way during these moments, only to return the morning next. The plan Astarion had felt completely derailed.

It must have been Tav’s weird behaviour throwing him off his balance, he finally concluded. Whenever they spoke, there was always that rocky feeling in him, as if the wind had picked up all his breath in a gust and left him in its wake when she went. Whatever it was, it was time to push it out his mind. He needed to focus on securing Tav’s favour - no matter how foreign the idea now tasted on his tongue.

Astarion abhorred the goblin camp. Inane bickering, mud everywhere, and the stench of worg dung, unwashed goblins and Hells know what else heavy in the air – distaste was rolling off Astarion in waves. The only saving grace this infernal place had was that he had the chance to destroy it all during their rescue mission of the archdruid Halsin.

Halsin. Tall, bulky elf with a deep voice and apparently enough peace and love to fill the whole bloody universe. Said druid now stood by Tav, thanking her profusely for his rescue, whilst Astarion was still wiping goblin guts off his knives. Whilst he did take glee in slashing and carving his way out of the goblin settlement, the exhaustion and lack of blood to feed on was starting to take its toll. If that wasn’t bad enough, the rescue mission ended up useless as they were still no closer to controlling the tadpoles in their minds.

“Really darlings,” his voice dripping with irritation as everyone gathered themselves after the gruelling fight, “next time, let’s not go galivanting through the entirety of Faerûn, saving whichever poor fool so much as bats their eyelashes at us.”

The irony was not lost on Tav.

Astarion dragged himself through the rest of the deserted camp, looking for valuables to plunder before they left. A necklace, a ring or two. Out the corner of his eye, Shadowheart was busy casting healing spells on a particularly nasty gash left on Wyll. Tav herself stood by the warlock as her hand pressed tight to a long wound winding down her arm. Astarion kept an eye out for healing potions as he dug through the rest of the chests.

He was in the middle of examining a silver pendant when he spied Halsin approach Tav. The druid’s hands glowed a soft warm light as he ran them over Tav’s wounded arm, standing surely too close than necessary. A slam rang through the courtyard when Astarion shut a chest a touch too hard.

“Can we get going?” he complained. Frustration was oozing out of him. His usually precise control over his words seemed to have evaporated over the course of battle. A sneer seemed permanently etched onto his face.

The only indicator of a response from Tav was a quick huff. If any words swelled on her tongue, she bit them down before Astarion could hear them. A bitterness was now seeping into him.

“Not longer now,” Wyll sighed out, relief colouring his voice at Shadowheart’s healing.

“Please, we’d be here all day if you all could help it,” Astarion bit back. “Probably saving a squirrel from a tree or some other inane charity.”

Tav gave him a warning glare, stoking the fires that had been simmering in him for far too long.

“The balance of nature requires constant vigilance,” Halsin replied smoothly, still way too near to Tav for any efficient healing he thought. “I hope that you all could come see what we do at the grove.”

Astarion huffed, “Like I’d ever want to see nonsense in such a waste of space.”

“Astarion!”

The look on Tav’s face was thunderous. The air crackled around her, a tell-tale sign of the heat rising in her veins. She stormed over to him, clutching her newly healed arm. Whatever remorse panged in Astarion was smothered by the resentment that broiled in him.

“There’s no way we could’ve let the goblins continue,” she argued. “Stopping them was important.”

“For what? To protect some irrelevant grassy hill so these - these idiots can frolic in the forests and roll in mud till the end of their days?!” Astarion snapped. “In case you haven’t noticed, my fate is lying in the balance. All of ours are! And yet you want to play saviour for what? A round of applause?”

His chest heaved, fangs bared in the dim light of the dungeon, sneering. “How droll.”

Pain flashed across Tav’s face. Poison seemed to pour out of every pore in Astarion’s skin as he waited for her reply. Indignation flashed across her eyes, like lightning across a dark grey sky.

“You don’t like it? Fine!” the final tether in Tav snapped as gusts of wind blew around her. “All of us have been trying so, ­so hard. I’ve been at the end of my rope for weeks – doing who knows what just for a semblance of peace in this gigantic mess we’ve landed in. You don’t like that – then fine!”

Tav pointed her finger straight into his chest.

“But don’t you ever – ever – dare accuse me of doing this for damn applause.”

Shoving him aside, she stalked off into the forest. The rest of the companions were stunned, having never seen such an outburst from their stoic friend. Exasperated, Astarion ran back into the Selunite temple, itching to find anyone, anything left to fight.

It was nightfall before Astarion finally left. Nothing was in the temple but dust and abandoned chests, to his chagrin. Irritated, tired, hungry. All these emotions brewed in his stomach – but there was one that stood out the most. Loneliness. He, of all people, felt … alone? The thought made him want to puke. He survived years in Cazador’s torment with no-one but himself. So why did he long for company now?

His previous anger was dying down to an ember. It was slowly being replaced with an absolutely terrible desire to return to camp and see his companions again. To see Gale learning with Lae’zel. To see Shadowheart gossiping with Wyll and Karlach. Try as he might, he was too exhausted to even smother his desire to see Tav. To maybe even apologise.

He groaned.

Kicking the dust up in the path, he made his way back.

As he predicted, the reception upon his return was less than warm.

The campfire crackled, and Gale to his credit was more than happy to see him return. Shadowheart seemed less than impressed at his outburst, but other than that, everyone seemed weirdly alright. There was no yelling at him, no threat to kick him straight out of camp. It seemed a near normal night, or as close to normal as they could get. Wanting to avoid any awkward conversations, Astarion made a beeline to his own tent, determined to spend the rest of the night in silence as he worked through the thoughts that hounded him recently.

He was surprised to see Tav waiting there for him.

She was startled at his return, and there was a small spark of satisfaction in him at catching her off-guard.

“You’re back,” she remarked.

“Yes. I am.” Astarion didn’t have much to reply either.

It seemed the outburst had taken as much a toll on Tav as it did on him. She seemed even more taciturn than usual, as if anything she had to say had been dragged out of her already. Tiredness was creeping onto her face. Astarion spied the unsightly scar running down her arm, and the words spilled out of him before he could stop it.

“I’m,” the words feel silly as they tumbled out, “sorry. I’m sorry.”

“O-oh.” Tav was speechless. Astarion stood up a bit straighter, desperate to shake the awkwardness off. The feeling of vulnerability was if a grip on him had finally been released – pain that gave way to a rush of something unknown.

“Under Cazador, I never really … needed to work with anyone else,” his hands spun randomly as he tried to explain himself. “I had to survive first. I had to be my own priority. I was terrified that anyone I ever got close to would bolt the second they knew who I really was - or worse, be made an example of.”

Tav took in his words, quiet as she always was, but now? It was for him. This space, this time to talk – it was all for him. The mere thought sent a giddy laugh bubbling through his heaving chest. Whether it was from nerves or happiness or just sheer relief – he neither knew nor cared. It sent an equally silly laugh through Tav.

“I could never be with anyone else, much less enjoy my time with them, you know. Things like sharing a glass of wine or waking up in the morning knowing I was safe with someone – it’s – I – I never knew how much it could mean to me. I didn’t realise how much … you could mean to me.”

Tav let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. “Astarion …”

She took his hand in hers – blissfully unaware to the pickup in his undead pulse – before smiling at him. “I’m just very glad you’re safe. And back with us. You said some awful things.”

“I know,” he laced their fingers tighter together, squeezing, “I’m sorry.”

It was a testament to their bond that she understood the words he hadn't the strength left to say, seeing past the bluster and fake charm. The fear he felt daily, the mask he wore, the scars of his past.

“I know it’s hard,” she whispered. “It’s hard for all of us, but we’ll get there. I promise.”

Astarion pulled her into the first genuine hug he’d had in years. He felt her hands wrap around him and nearly melted into the floor.

“Thank you,” he breathed out, feeling her heart thud against his. “Thank you.”

thanks for reading! :)

[vixstarria]

WIP whatever

Tagged by @brabblesblog and @nyx-knox (thanks!)

Oh look, it's another Act 1 flashback. NSFW, so under a cut:

Astarion sat with a book, trying to ignore Asmodea as she perched next to him, loudly crunching on an apple. It was proving to be impossible to concentrate under her inquisitive stare.  “Yes?” he said, sighing.  “So does pussy taste like ash to you?”  Astarion wrinkled his nose in distaste.  “Must you be so crass?”  “You’re really going to continue the ‘uptight noble’ act after last night?” she said with a smirk. “And I’m actually being considerate, not crass – it was only after that I remembered vampire tastebuds have certain quirks.” She shifted where she sat. “I wouldn’t shove your face into an ash tray,” she said, sounding almost apologetic, before biting into the apple again.   “Very well,” Astarion said, shutting his book. “No, pussy tastes like pussy. And yours tastes like-”  “The finest nectar, ambrosia of the gods, blah blah,” she interrupted him with a dismissive wave of her hand, talking with her mouth full. “But why?” 

Don't mind me, just writing asinine dialogue that serves absolutely no purpose other than making me giggle, per usual.

Tagging @spacebarbarianweird @jellymellydraws @grandmother-goblin @mj-bites @snowfolly

[galaxymagick]

just some besties enjoying the view..🖤

[transparentkittenheart]

Wyll and Astarion were talking about justice and what it means to them. Wyll was being an enlightened centrist about "needing balance in all things." Then Astarion goes off saying how "You really need to make an example of them. All crime must be punished to the fullest extent!!"

I'm just like.... my guy.... YOU'RE THE CRIMINAL??

[litsen-lithenna]

Some thoughts about UA healing journey post-game

TW: Speaking of abuse, trauma, ptsd, and the struggles of healing (take care 🧡) [Long rambling… I’m sorry, and it’s all about my headcanons and how I imagine Astarion and Tav/Durge’s relationship post-game. Of course, I’m perfectly fine with people disagreeing and discussing it, as long you’re not rude✨] I’ve had many thoughts about post-game spawn Astarion, precisely because I find his ending really inspirational, and as a survivor myself, I believe there’s a bittersweet edge to it. {a brief foreword} Healing takes a lot of time, it’s painful and difficult, and you can’t completely get rid of the past. You learn to accept your trauma as part of your life, but the idea is to not let it define you. You're a victim, but you’re not just a victim, it doesn’t define you although it’s a part of you. And you may eventually find a way to live with it, but it never truly goes away. In the epilogue, we (I, at least) understand Astarion will try and walk that healing path, with your Tav/(resist)Durge. And even if he stumbles and falls on the way, he's not alone anymore, there will be people around to help him get back on his feet. It's beautiful, even if it's sometimes difficult.

And there's one line from the epilogue that makes me quite sad, and increases that bittersweet feeling I have: when the narrator says that Astarion told you that those last those “6 months of happy memories are the counterweight to two hundred years of misery”; it does sound sweet, but I think it's a lie (sorry😫 ).

The narrator doesn’t use direct speech with a sentence like "It feels like those 6 months of happy memories are the counterweight to two hundred years of misery“ or "it is obvious that those last 6 months of happy memories…" - Instead, she uses indirect speech, she reports Astarion’s words: "Astarion told you that…", and well… Astarion is an unreliable narrator, he does have a tendency to lie and hide behind a smile, right? (Even if he opens up a little more after Cazador's death).

That’s why I tend to believe that he would prefer to avoid talking about his hardest struggles to the person he loves, and here are some hypothesis of why he'd do that:

He wants to reassure Tav/(resist)Durge so they don’t worry too much.

He doesn’t want to admit he still struggles with his past, not just out of pride, but also because he might lowkey think he “failed” at being completely happy, he might that he "failed" at being done with his past… (Which is, of course, untrue – healing is not a competition, it’s hard, it takes years, and it’s never a straight path,;sometimes you feel better, sometimes you have relapses, sometimes you don’t know what to do or how you feel.) I wouldn’t be surprised if, after years of abuse, he’d believe himself incapable of being good enough to heal… (that hurts a lot)

He doesn’t want to disappoint Tav/Durge – like, "Tav/Durge did so much for me andI can’t even stop struggling with my past, how ungrateful I am!" (ouch) 4- That’s his way to thank Tav/Durge, like “I am so grateful, so I’ll pretend to be completely healed because I know that’s what they want for me: to be happy." (Can you see where this is going?)

Wait a minute!

I’m not saying that post-game spawn Astation would be unhappy! On the contrary, I do believe that he’d be really happy, rediscovering what happiness means, what affection means, the pure joy of knowing how it feels to be himself, to be free (and in love, and loved!).

But I also think there would be relapses, moments of doubts, ptsd, dissociation, nightmares, intrusive thoughts and awful memories, and nights during which he would withdraw into himself completely, if only because he doesn’t know how to deal with all this.

All of this to say that I HC that the relationship wouldn’t be all sweet and soft for them- not all the time at least - even if Tav is the most healthy, considerate, sweetest person to be with - I usually play resist Durge so the traumas are piling up and they have to deal with their respective pasts, which makes it even more complicated.

I’m not saying the relationship would be toxic, but that they would both have a lot to do to make it work. And considering how Astarion tends to hide how he truly feels, Tav/Durge would definitely have to help him open up, to create safe spaces for him so he could feel like he can talk safely when things are getting difficult, instead of just brushing them off with a fake smile. Another point that I’ve been thinking of (A LOT), and which you can connect to point 3 and 4 above: he doesn’t want to disappoint. He spent two hundred years obeying, and each time he would disappoint Cazador, he was punished. So, I think he wouldn’t so easily get rid of what he was trained to do. Therefore, even if Astarion doesn’t see Tav/Durge as a potential 'master', I think he’d still have some tendencies to rely on them, to follow their lead. Because, even if he says multiple times that he wouldn’t let anyone control him ever again, and even if Tav/Durge refuses to tell him what to do, even if they refuse to control him, Astarion would unconsciously tend to let them take the lead. (which would obviolusly be even more difficult for Durge)

And I think Astarion would do his best to never disappoint, terrified to be abandoned, or worse, that the one he loves might see him just as he sometimes still thinks he is: not enough, just a pretty face.

It would require a lot of work and talking and patience from Tav/Durge to help him go through that, giving him agency about small things, mundane decisions, and little by little, make him understand that he doesn’t have to rely on anyone and that he can make the right choice for himself, and by himself. And they’d have to reassure him too, but I don’t think he would enjoy if this support was too obvious; I think he’d hate being paternalized by a partner who’d keep on openly encouraging him as if he was a child. But subtle tokens of support, quiet encouragements (a hand on his arm, a smile, their hand squeezing his hand, etc.) could probably help him feel better about himself without making him feel inadequate. In any case, I don’t think 6 months, even 6 months of the sweetest honeymoon, would make up for what Astarion went through. I can’t believe it, and I think the writers knew that too. And that use of the indirect speech by the narrator is enough for me to confirm it (alright, maybe my academic studies in literature are biasing me a little but aaah…! I can't help thinking about the "Astarion told you that…").

Sorry this was wayyyyy too long and heartbreaking and quite incoherent and there’s no real conclusion, but I needed all this out of my chest! Thank you for your attention 🩵 (and I apologise for the typos, it's late and I'm tired af)

[yandereine]

Astarion you're in the wrong game this is for kids!