#bg astarion

[cathartictrash]

Someone write a Halstarion AU where Astarion is an environmental lawyer and Halsin is an activist and arborist. They initially dislike each other because Astarion views Halsin as "some granola hippie treehugger," and Halsin views Astarion as a "corporate cog." They fall in love slowly after meeting at a protest where Halsin chains himself to a tree, and Astarion speaks to the media about the facts of the case.

PLEASE.

[pointlessabandon]

[bone0921]

Wet cat Astarion sketch b4 bed

I just accidentally drew his hair flat and went with it

[fools-of-faerun]

He'll never get used to her jokes.

[starkspi]

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Astarion: No man has ever been nice to me without...you know. Wanting something in return.

Gale: I was going to ask for a glass of water, but now I feel kind of guilty about it.

[dozodraws]

I am too connected to you To slip away, to fade away Days away I still feel you Touching me, changing me

[white-leaf-moth]

𝘐𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘶𝘴 𝘥𝘰.

[viny-kun]

First drawing of the year! And what a better way to start it with a Bloodweave redraw? Hope you’ll like it! And happy new year!

[acapelladitty]

Astarion x Reader: Nightmare

Summary - A short, fic in which Astarion has a very familiar nightmare and has to deal with the fallout. (tw: past abuse/impl. nc)

No, no, no. No! He had escaped. He was past this terrible life.

This couldn't be happe-

"He's yours to use as you see fit." Cazador laughed, his harsh grip of Astarion's coiffed hair burning his scalp with its sheer ferocity and strength. "And he'll be as pliant as a whore. Truly, there is no task which he is unfit to endure because he understands not to disappoint me."

His mind under the utter control of his master, Astarion could only scream his anguish internally as he nodded his consent against his will; his blank expression even going as far as to smile invitingly as his knees pressed into the cold stone of the floor with enough pressure to hurt.

It was a scene so woefully familiar that he could already feel the pains which he would endure over the coming hours. The stretch of his limbs, so overwrought that the slightest tension would snap the strong bone. The agony of being ripped apart, again and again as he were used as a common whore, a plaything for his masters whims. The tearing of his abused throat as it welcomed whatever was to be thrust within in as his lips unwilling fluttered with lustful encouragements and desperate pleas for more.

Always more.

With his masters open blessing, the small envoy of men descended upon him like ravenous wolves set loose upon a particularly defenceless sheep. They did not fear his strength, nor his fangs, as they saw him for what he was. Truly, he was unaware of which master they served but whatever news they had brought to Cazador was enough to please him into providing his favoured pet for their free use as thanks.

Besides, he had dared to question a direct order from his master and a transgression like that, a crime so great could not go unpunished.

Something raw snapped free of his throat as one of the men pushed his knees apart until the bones creaked and ached; the cadence of the noise was one which could easily be mistaken for the lust he was being forced to perform, like a marionette with its unseen strings toiling away, but as Cazador met his eye, Astarion could feel his masters glowing satisfaction at his hidden distress.

His cock moved involuntarily, growing hard under their rough strokes and calloused hands as scalding bile rose in his throat before being forced back down with desperate swallows. Naked as a babe, his pale skin was dull in the dim lighting as his hands remained pinned uselessly by his side.

In a blink, he was forced backwards the strength of the throw knocked the wind from his lungs. The livid scarring which encompassed the pale skin of his back pressed roughly against the stone, every small movement which disturbed it making it feel like he was being flayed alive anew as the first of the men reached for the latch of their trousers.

"Astarion." A sharp voice pulled him from his terrors with a violent start as his anxiety spiked at the sudden intrusion. Without thought, his mind still fighting against the violent ghosts of his past, his clawed fingers lashed out, finding instant satisfaction in the sensation of tearing flesh as he thrashed against the fabric of the thin bedroll which housed him.

He would never go back.

He would endure a thousand deaths before being brought to heel once more.

It was only when a familiar scent hit him, the sweet allure of the blood that had recently become his only ongoing source of sustence that his eyes snapped open in an instant, banishing his tormentors fully to the shadows of his mind.

In that same moment, he was confronted with the blurred face of his beloved as they gazed down at him, their body kneeling off to his side. A hand was messily clutched at their face, palm only just able to stem the trickling blood which flowed from the fresh set of gashes which his sharp nails had scored through them.

"Astarion!" They called again, voice urgent as a soft hand pressed against his chest to both center and calm him down. "It's me. Only me. And you're safe - you're safe here with me." The words were familiar and hushed, a respectful desire to not alert the others in camp to the situation at hand fully at war with their obvious desire to make him see reason before he could harm anyone further.

"My love?" He muttered, his hands retracting to his own chest as though scalded by what they had clearly done - the harm they had brought to the one who had only shown him kindness. "What in the hells- what ha-"

"You were having a nightmare." Pulling their hand from their face, shame lanced Astarion's heart like a spear as he surveyed the extent of the damage his enhanced strength had carved through their lovely skin. Even through the allure of the spilled blood, fresh bile rose in his throat as the tension in his body refused to dissipate.

"I was? Oh, that seems unlikely. Probably an overreaction on your part, darling."

Even to his own ears, his voice sounded strained and at least an octave higher than it should have as he quickly deflected from his own perceived weakness. His chest felt painfully cold as his body attempted to curl in further on itself, phantom pains ghosting along his skin like a thousand tiny needles piercing him all at once with his many weaknesses and failings.

Refusing to rise to the bait, he couldn't bear to look his love in the eye as guilt stole the breath from his lungs. Not that he had never drawn their blood before, but like this? Something hot tickled at his eyes and he rapidly blinked away the onset of shameful tears which threatened him.

He was better than this.

"Would you like a story?"

A gentle hand placed itself on his forehead, allowing him to adjust to the touch as he tilted his head almost imperceptibly into it. It was an unspoken acknowledgement of his struggles, an acceptance that he didn't quite understand but found himself depserate to cling to in his weaker moments.

Eyes clamped shut, Astarion refused to open them as his head nodded in one swift, sharp movement.

In an instant, a warm body slipped down to join him on his bedroll, their side touching his enough that he could initiate as much contact as he could accommodate or tolerate while he settled in to listen to the offered story with deep, steadying breaths.

"A few years back, I was travelling by a little village very similar to the one we just passed through-"

[cathartictrash]

[vampiresuns]

Astarion Baldursgate but he’s wearing this

[bone0921]

Insatiable spawn

[fools-of-faerun]

IT WORKED?!!??!?! 🤣

[starkspi]

"Ah ... Hello!"

[overheard-in-baldurs-gate]

Tav: Is stabbing someone immoral?

Astarion: Not if they consent to it.

Shadowheart: Depends on who you stab.

Lae’zel: No.

Wyll: YES???