#depressed tav

[starryjuicebox]

Beloved (6) - Confession

Summary: Stella can't hold it inside any longer.

Pairing: Ascended!Astarion x Tav

Word Count: 611 words

Masterlist | Ao3 Link | Next Chapter

Marpenoth 1492 

Today, with my help, Astarion completed the Rite of Profane Ascension. I don’t know what possessed me to even agree after my pleas fell on deaf ears. I was so numb. I tried to persuade him to change his mind, but I was too weak. I can barely even remember it. Everything after my failure was just black, black, black. I just want to forget. All the screams. All the blood. The disappointment from our friends. What have I done? 

Oak Father, please forgive me. I will never feel your warm embrace again. I have damned both my lover and myself to a dark, twisted eternity. What would Aelia say? I can never speak to her again. How could I have let this happen? 

Stella Lunaris

“Why are you apologizing.” It was not a question. 

His consort stilled for just a moment, before wiping the tears from her eyes and finally meeting his gaze. “I… I helped Halsin complete Jaheira’s research. After we told her children of her passing, they gave him her notes. When we all reconnected at Shadowheart’s wedding, he pulled me aside.  He was…worried about me. About us.” 

Her voice was trembling; from fear, sorrow, or a mixture of both, Astarion wasn’t sure. 

Why had she kept this from him for two centuries? He hardly remembered the wedding, it had been so long ago. Both Shadowheart and her wife had since passed. He had seen them speaking briefly at the respective funerals… it seemed Halsin had been meddling in their affairs for far longer than he’d originally thought. 

“He was worried about you? And why would he be? We are flourishing.”

To him, they truly were. Astarion had everything he ever wanted. The Crimson Palace was his to rule, and he had redesigned every single aspect of the interior. Not a single trace of that wretch he would never speak of again remained. Every room had a vase filled with fresh flowers (his dear consort’s insistence) and gold was never an issue - he occupied three vaults in the Counting House. He also occupied a seat on the Council of Four and had his fingers in every proverbial pie around Baldur’s Gate. 

So why was his darling so forlorn? 

Stella hesitated, biting her lip. Her eyes flickered over to the window before lowering once more. “He just wanted to make sure I was happy, that’s all.” 

She wasn’t telling him the truth, he could feel it. Anger surged in his chest, and he fought hard to keep it down. 

“I know when you lie to me, little love. We’ve been together for three centuries,” he sighed, tucking a strand of her silky hair behind a pointed ear. 

Closing her eyes, his consort continued. “Halsin said I seemed nothing like myself anymore. That he wasn’t certain I was… doing well. Then, he asked me to help him finish Jaheira’s research, since I am Faithwarden.” 

Astarion paused. How dare the Archdruid accuse him of mistreating her? Anything she asked for, he would provide. She wanted for nothing, he made sure of it! 

“For a while after that…we exchanged letters and worked on completely deciphering the ritual, until he had completed it.” 

He furrowed his eyebrows. Something still wasn’t making sense. He didn’t particularly care whether or not their former companions lived or died. Only Gale and Halsin remained, and one of them had quite literally become a god. Why was this such a secret? “So why keep this from me, then? It’s not as if I don’t allow you to help your friends.”

The answer came in the smallest of whispers. “Because he wanted to see me be free.”

[necromosss]

🤍

[saturdaysky]

a little morning pick-me-up

-

A morning on the way to Baldur's Gate. The party booked themselves into an inn and enjoyed real beds, hot baths, and privacy for the first time since the Nautiloid.

Gale and Mayhew shared a room, of course. They were filled with the relief of surviving the shadows and the glow of finally getting together, so their private room was probably a blessing for the whole party, honestly.

-

This was some ascended anatomy practice! Referenced some great stock from @null-entity.

[druizard]

❤️Scritches, Headbutts, Horn Nuzzles, Tiefling Touches❤️

Thunderbug

[mercymaker]

Undertow has come to take me, guided by the blazing sun...

[sleeeepy-demon]

part 7 of bg3 memes i drew on paint except its all my Tav. Sorry.

part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

(if you wanna know more about them ⬇)

dhfliskdj f I am insane. about him. His name is Melodic Black Metal, they/he pronouns and they are obviously a bard. Lawful good. Romanced astarion cuz my friend @snaso102 said it would be the hardest to do while playing a good character and now i am insane about them together too. The hooded figure is Melo's sister, she can see a bit of the future.

PLEASE lets talk about them lets make our Tavs meet and have a party or whatever. I WILL talk about them even if you dont so, yea, ok, yea, ok, ok, yea, ok,

[carrionstorm]

Sometimes a necromancer needs a big brain support plushie - Ava

[tcustodisart]

I sometimes think about "the bad ending Connie" where his family dies during the siege and he goes full hermit mode isolating himself from everyone to the point he doesn't even come to the epilogue party 😌 If you ask Withers about him he'll only tell you that Connie destroyed the invitation the moment he received it.

He's spending his remaining days thinking what could've been. Not being able to even think about his companions because it reminds him of the adventure that took everything from him.

[chaoticbardlady99]

Yesterday I Felt like Dancing (Astarion x GN! Reader)

Synopsis: You have burnt both ends of the candle and haven’t been taking care of your mental health. Unable to get yourself out of bed, Astarion begins to worry about you…

Author note- I have been hardcore struggling with my mental health lately and writing my silly little fics has been the only thing pulling me along. I thought it might be therapeutic to write about my current feelings (I have ADHD, MDD, and GAD so it’s a party up in here). I hope you enjoy!

CW- Suicidal Ideation, symptoms of depression, brief outburst, mentions of mental health diagnosis and poor medical advice.

Title inspired by song “Into the Walls” by Griff.

*not my pic, could not tell you where I found it so I apologize in advance. If you think it might be your picture, please message me so I can give proper credit.

Your last day before backtracking from the Mountain Pass to the Goblin camp is a difficult one.

Not for the group as a whole- just you specifically.

Days before a Mindflayer kidnapped you, a healer back home had told you your brain was sick. You had been devastated- resigned to your miserable fate.

You had been struggling for years at that point with inconsistent motivation, exhaustion, nightmares, and irrational thoughts for months. You have been functional for the most part, but then an overpowering wave will hit you like Warhammer in the ribs and you are rendered useless until it passes.

The healer suggested sunlight, exercise, eating healthy, and spending time with friends to help your affliction when you hit rock bottom. You were wildly unimpressed with her. At the time, you preferred to self isolate so you stayed by yourself in the woods trying to find peace there. You would have to let her know that her “going out and enjoying the sun” message is not always wise- you may get a tadpole shoved in your head. You can’t be that mad though- the tadpole helped bring your pep back.

Anyway, you have been doing all of that for weeks now, you even felt great, but today? You could not have hit rock bottom harder even if you tried.

You woke up that morning unable to get yourself out of bed. It was a rest day so it wasn’t a big deal, but you also know that your companions are going to have things they need to talk to you about and favors they need you to take care of.

Gods you had tried to get up. You are grateful that your past self had the gumption to wash off and change into clean clothes last night, but your armor is still disgustingly sitting outside your tent and your hair is long and wild. You had wanted to braid it, but it all felt like too much work.

Everything feels like too much work right now- even staying awake- so you drift in and out of uncomfortable naps throughout the morning. No matter how many times you fall asleep, begging for relief from the painful brick wall sitting on your brain, it never leaves.

You can feel the midday breeze rustle your tent. You’ve been laying here for hours now. You are crying and you honestly aren’t sure why. You feel completely paralyzed by all the things you need to do to be ready for the Underdark.

You need to clean your armor, go over the Goblin Camp’s map with Wyll, find Gale a magical artifact, and probably comfort Lae’zel since she’s been branded a heretic- but you won’t. The shame and self loathing continues. You are a silly, worthless little human being.

Every person who knocks on your tent gets a simple, “I’m just not feeling well,” and then they walk away. You don’t know why it makes you more sad than appreciative. If you were in their shoes- you would be bending over backwards to make sure they had everything they needed and you wouldn’t let them feel alone. Then you resent yourself for feeling that way towards your companions- they don’t owe you anything and you were the one who chose to help them- you didn’t ask for anything in return. This is all your fault.

The only person who hadn’t come to visit you was Astarion- which hurt your heart just a little, enough that the numbness coursing thickly through your body wavered for a moment. You are quite smitten and he is obviously not. Another mistake to add to the swirling black hole your mind has fallen into.

You knew it was stupid to want his comfort and affections- you had merely slept together a little less than a week ago. Astarion has been quasi avoiding you ever since and when he does talk to you- he’s awkward. You constantly look for flying pigs- Astarion feeling awkward or being awkward is unheard of.

You have come to accept that you were just some tryst and obviously he hadn’t enjoyed it as much as he said he did.

Astarion isn’t to blame and the situation itself certainly didn’t contribute to the sudden lack of emotions. You knew that you were on the verge of a mental collapse sooner rather than later, but you had foolishly hoped you wouldn’t be alone through it. It feels less all consuming when you try to find a reason. It’s more comfortable to know than it is to give up and say, “my brain is fucked and there isn’t a damn thing I can do so I guess I’m stuck here.”

You are jolted out of your thoughts by another knock on your tent.

“I’m sick,” you say flatly.

“Ha- you act like that will deter me. I can’t even get sick, Darling.”

Before you even have time to register that Astarion is on the other side of your tent- he pushes his way through the flaps and stares down at you in confusion. And… concern?

Astarion steps inside and kneels down next to you- scanning you for evidence of illness or injury.

“I suppose I had been worried for nothing,” he smiles sweetly at you, “you are totally fine. Come on Darling, you have to get up and eat. Wyll is fumbling with that map.”

You look at him and begin to cry. Astarion’s face lights up with alarm.

“What- what did I do!?”

“Please don’t make me,” you sob, “I just want a break. I’m so tired. I want to lay in this bed forever and never leave, but there is so much to do and it’s paralyzing.”

You continue to cry and you cover yourself with the extra blanket- successfully hiding your face.

“Go away,” you whisper, “I need to be left alone.”

You say it, but you are far from meaning it. You want him to stay- to hold you- but he doesn’t want you so it will only make everything hurt worse once the numbness fades away.

You wait for several moments and then you hear him leave. Your silent cry turns into choked sobs and your body is shaking from the pain you are in. The numbness hurts. The numbness tells you that you shouldn’t be alive.

Maybe you shouldn’t be.

Everyone here would be able to figure it out on their own (eventually) and you would finally be free. Free of your uncomfortable brain, free of your ugly body- free of the expectations of others. You would no longer be holding them back like you are today- like you will again in the future.

You are sure they would temporarily grieve you, but that was the deal with this whole journey. You had all accepted that one of you or all of you could die at any moment. You will just put them in more danger by being here…

You shake the thought from your head, violently- your head is pounding from the growing tension headache and dehydration. The tears eventually stop and you just… well, lay in bed again. You stare blankly at a book over in the corner. You keep trying to convince yourself to get up and read the damn thing- do literally ANYTHING else than just stay here in your bedroll.

Instead, you fall asleep.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You wake up to someone knocking on your tent post. You grumble incoherently, covering your head and you hear your unexpected guest sit down next to you. The smell of food fills the tent and your stomach grumbles.

“You need to eat, my Dear,” Astarion says softly.

You are stunned to hear his voice grace your ears. You slowly pull the blanket down to just below your eyes and look at him. Astarion looks distressed, like he doesn’t want to be here. Why would he? You’re a nuisance.

You sit up gingerly and grab the bowl from him. You manage to give him a lopsided smile.

“Thanks. You don’t need to stay, I will be fine on my own,” you say apathetically, staring into the broth.

“I want to stay,” he says, “if you’ll have me.”

The expression on his face is unreadable, but he seems genuine. You nod, your lips pressed together tightly. You eat as much as you feel like while Astarion studies you.

Usually your anxiety is at an all time high (in maybe one of the better ways) when you are around Astarion- he gives you butterflies, butterflies, and even more butterflies. Usually your heart is racing in his presence, but right now you just feel empty.

“Where is your hairbrush?” Astarion asks.

You frown with confusion, “it’s in my bag, why?”

Astarion gets up and goes over to the bag- digging out a few items. He pulls out a lantern, your hairbrush, and a hair tie. Astarion comes over to you and sits down behind you. You feel him gather up the stray pieces of your hair and get to work.

Astarion runs his fingers through your scalp and your tangled hair- the feeling is soothing and it opens something inside of you. Your body shakes silently with sobs and you feel the worm behind your eyes wiggle as Astarion asks for access. You aren’t sure.

“I want to understand,” Astarion says, “please.”

His voice is so raw and desperate- you swallow thickly before allowing him to explore your current emotional state. The silence in the tent is palpable and you feel tense, uncomfortable even. No one has ever cared for you while you are in this state before.

You feel him continue his hairbrushing after he exits your mind. Astarion leaves soft kisses on your shoulder as he gently pulls apart every knot. It helps- you realize- to feel cared for. The numbness still hurts, you still hurt, but it’s nice to not feel so alone.

After Astarion is done brushing your hair, you feel his delicate fingers begin to intricately braid your hair. You wonder when he learned how to do hair.

“Leon’s daughter, Victoria, used to ask me to braid her hair all the time,” Astarion says in a bittersweet voice as if reading your mind, “I picked it up so that she would stop bugging me about it. She said and I quote, ‘you have the perfect braiding hands!’”

You smile to yourself tenderly, “That’s very kind of you, Star. I am sure she appreciated it as much as I appreciate it now.”

You feel Astarion’s hands falter at your words and you are unsure if you have upset him or not. A pregnant pause occurs before Astarion finally clears his throat and goes back to braiding your hair.

“I’m glad that I can help,” Astarion’s delicate, vulnerable words hang in the air, “I’ve… been worried about you today.”

You feel positively flustered and bad for making him feel that way.

“Oh you don’t need to worry about silly ole me! This happens sometimes” you make your voice chirpier than it needs to be, “This is actually the longest I’ve gone for a long time without this happening. I have theorized that the tadpole might help which is kinda cool- I think?”

You laugh awkwardly- desperate to ease his worry.

“How often does this happen?”

Shit. That was the winning question wasn’t it? Astarion will surely never see you as anything less than broken now.

“I’m not really sure,” your voice comes out in a whisper, “I usually always feel a bit of it all the time, but it’s manageable. I function very well regardless.”

“But this one isn’t manageable and evidently you aren’t functional right now.”

You sigh, “No, it isn’t and no, I’m not.”

“What changed?”

“Nothing,” you say, maybe too harshly, “that’s the part that drives me crazy. Yesterday was incredible- I was on top of the whole world, felt like dancing and screaming from the rooftops, but today!?”

You inhale and hold back the muted scream that wants to fill the air.

“Today,” you hiss, “I don’t even want to deal with any of this shit anymore. I’m so fucking tired. There is too much to fucking do and too many people depending on me. Then everyone gets irritated with me if I ask to push off their problems so I persevere through it despite knowing I’m getting bad again. I’m a giant stinking trash heap that everyone keeps adding more to.”

Astarion finishes braiding your hair and presses your back to his chest, pulling you into him. He puts his arms around your waist and settles his chin and face in between the crook of your neck.

“I just feel like such a nuisance all the time- no matter how hard I push myself to prove I’m not. Sometimes I think everyone would be better off if I just… went away.”

You both sit there quietly. At some point he had taken one of your hands in his and he was tracing shapes into the back of it with his thumb. Your omission still hangs heavily in the air.

“I wouldn’t be better off,” Astarion says hotly, “I’d be stuck with all these weirdos by myself. That would be truly miserable, Darling.”

You shake your head, a half smile on your face.

“And besides- you are not even close to a nuisance,” Astarion states, leaving a kiss on your cheek, “at least you aren’t in constant need of magical objects to eat or blood to drink. Oh and you don’t require a painstaking amount of searching to prevent you from literally burning everyone alive.

“Oh and did I forget to mention, we have not one, but two women who despise each other and follow hateful Goddesses which was a fun choice for whatever sick bastard twisted our fates this way.”

You laugh breathily, closing your eyes and letting the sound defrost some of your insides.

“What I’m saying is- I think you are the least of everyone’s ‘nuisances’, my Darling,” he says, squeezing you tighter to his chest, “despite how little you think of yourself. We ne- no, I want you to stay. I know everyone else would say the same, but I must emphasize that I would be horribly distraught if you disappeared. Hells I’d even pay to have you resurrected.”

You gasp playfully, your voice falling slightly flat, “You? The most frugal man I have ever met would pay 200 gold coins to ‘Strike thy name from the record’?”

Your impression of Withers gets Astarion to genuinely laugh- the sound vibrating in your chest. You lean into him and he guides you back to laying down. Astarion entangles his legs with yours as he holds you tightly- your faces are mere centimeters apart. You love the way Astarion smells- rosemary, bergamot, and brandy. You wish you could be wrapped up in him forever. You are still in pain- everything still hurts and feels too difficult, but right now it feels a little less heavy.

“I would throw bags of Gold Coins at that corpse out of revenge, my Dear,” he teases, “you couldn’t possibly think I would ever let you rest peacefully in your grave- I would be far too angry with you and unhappy without you to let that happen.”

You lay there and despite yourself, you lean forward and leave butterfly kisses along his cheeks with your lashes. Astarion scrunches up his nose reflexively and smiles at you. You plant a sweet, short kiss on his lips.

“Thank you Astarion- for everything.”

You close your eyes as he traces circles along your lower back. Your eyes begin to droop, and you fall asleep.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

When you wake up the next morning- you are disappointed to find that you are all alone in your tent. The heavy numbness is still there and you sigh. At least last night made it more bearable.

You look on the side where Astarion had been sleeping and find a note with a bottle attached to it. You pick it up and begin to read.

Tav,

Astarion had asked me about herbs for some relief regarding mental discomforts. I unfortunately don’t know many, but this is a mixture of St. John’s Wort, Valerian Root, and Ashwagandha. Historically, I know these have been used to alleviate emotional and mental pain.

Astarion didn’t tell me why he was asking, but I deduced it was you pretty quickly when he began shooing everyone away from your tent this morning.

I hope this helps- we are all here if you need us. May Silvanus light your path as you navigate this difficult time.

-Halsin

You sit in your own stunned silence for what feels like hours. Halsin knows and he wants to help? Halsin doesn’t think you are screwed or a nuisance? The man barely even knows you!

You are a bit embarrassed, but you can’t help but laugh at the image of Astarion telling everyone to leave you alone.

You open the bottle and a pleasant, earthy smell fills the tent. You drink the mixture (that definitely does not taste anywhere near as pleasant as it smells) and you do feel a slight bit better. Your apathy feels even more tolerable now. You will have to thank Halsin.

You slowly rise from your tent and look around. Everything is packed up neatly in the corner- your clothes from the previous day are folded nicely and you notice all the holes are sewn up.

You jump when someone enters your tent abruptly- the midday sun warming your skin. You turn around and Astarion is smiling at you, but looks nervous.

“I cleaned off your armor and your weapons,” he says awkwardly, scratching the back of his head, “I also packed up your stuff- as you can see. We have to start leaving unfortunately, but I’ll help you get on your armor like I usually do- I might still need help with mine though, but I can ask someone else if it’s too much for you right now. Lae’zel and Karlach offered to pack up your tent. Wyll and Shadowheart figured out the map- Wyll is going to be our ‘fearless’ leader for the day. Gale has some food for you to snack on while we travel- which you will be eating, by the way.”

Astarion is looking at you with a vulnerable expression on his face. He plays nervously with the gold coin in his hands.

You can hardly believe what you are hearing.

“Did- did you do all this for me?” You say with disbelief.

You never thought Astarion was capable of smiling shyly until he had admitted to you that you had been his first thinking creature- you certainly never thought you’d see him become shy twice in your presence.

“I did and it wasn’t a nuisance so don’t even begin to worry about that,” He walks over to you, gently cradling your face in his hands, “I hope this is all okay.”

You smile- the first genuine feeling of happiness you’ve felt in the last 24 hours gently sparks in your chest as you stare up at him. You get up on your tiptoes and bridge the gap between your lips.

“Thank you Astarion, this is perfect- you are perfect,” you are crying tears of joy, “this is the kindest gesture anyone has ever made for me. So just, thank you.”

“Of course, Darling,” he says smiling in between kisses, “I won’t let you lose to yourself. We’ll get through this together from now on- no more hiding.”

And for once? You actually believe someone.

-if you guys like this, please let me know if you would want a part two written from Astarion’s perspective.

Update- I did the thing you silly geese

https://www.tumblr.com/chaoticbardlady99/735969926279528448/i-took-all-this-love-i-found-and-i-hope-that-its

Tag-list: @spacebarbarianweird @domainoflostsouls

[starryjuicebox]

Beloved (1) - Smile

Summary: Centuries have passed since he became the Vampire Ascendant. His consort is so beloved, why won't she smile?

Pairing: Ascended!Astarion x Tav

Word Count: 286 words

Masterlist | Ao3 Link | Next Chapter

Astarion couldn’t stand that empty look in her eyes. Though her soft curls, the same color as the sky, were adorned with the most opalescent jewels gold could buy, and her slender body was draped in the finest gowns in all of Faerûn, she never smiled. Once upon a time, she had beamed at him every time she saw him, her azure eyes shining brightly like the sun. Now, her gaze was hollow, as if she wasn’t truly with him. This was unacceptable - she was his . Why did his former pathetic and weak self elicit such joy from her, when now that he was the most powerful being in Toril, she barely even looked at him? 

“My darling, why do you not smile for me?” He cooed, grabbing her chin and tilting it upwards. Her eyes, crimson now, held no trace of emotion at all. She was practically a ragdoll in his arms, never resisting his ministrations, but also never present. He hated it.

He could compel her to smile. It would be so easy. But so, so, meaningless. 

“Answer me!” Frustration coursed through him, hot and horrible. Why wouldn’t she look at him? 

No response. 

“I love you,” he tried. That’s what she had been waiting to hear, right? Honeyed words, soft caresses - she had been so happy to receive them in the past. Surely, this time would be no different. 

The tiniest flicker of emotion, and then a tear slowly rolled down her cheek. 

Why wasn’t it working? She wasn’t supposed to cry at his profession of love - what was he feeling, if not love?  He would give her anything she wanted. All she had to do was ask.

She never asked for anything.

[khadame]

[alpaca-clouds]

Astarion, Trauma, Depression & Healing

I just cannot stop thinking about this topic, so I am going to talk about it. Mind you, technically I could extend this topic to some of the other characters as well - maybe I will - but for now let me talk about our favorite vampire spawn.

The game does make an effort to give every character at least a somewhat happy or at least bittersweet ending. (With the exception of Karlach, really. Yeah, I am still bitter about it.) But of course the general way it goes about the character plotlines is that they basically remove one issue and then end.

And for me there is the question: What would realistically happen after the ending?

So, let me talk a bit about psychology.

This is for the vampire spawn ending.

Spoilers for all acts.

CW: Abuse, trauma, depression

Astarion is traumatized.

"No shit!" I hear you say.

But yes, he is traumatized. To be exact he has CPTSD. Complex trauma. The difference between this and normal trauma is, that it develops over a long time. Specifically when it is not one or even just a few traumatizing experiences, but it is a lasting traumatizing situation. And in the case of our dear vampire spawn it is a traumatizing situation that lasted for almost two centuries!

Being unable to escape a traumatizing situation means that people in those situations build coping mechanisms as a method of survival. And I would argue that Astarion's entire asshole snarky personality mostly is a coping mechanism.

There are a several aspects of the situation with Cazador, that were traumatizing.

Several people have already talked about how basically Cazador has subjected his spawn to basically every single kind of abuse. We know there was physical abuse (for fuck's sake, they were tortured on a regular basis), there was sexual abuse (they were forced into prostitution and there is some dialogue that say that Cazador also raped them), there was emotional and psychological abuse (just look how Cazador talks to Astarion - and how he played the spawn against each other), and there was also a general sense of neglect.

But there is also the fact that Cazador forced them to do bad things. Be it to catch those victims (who the spawn thought would die) and there is also a bit of evidence that he probably forced them to otherwise kill - maybe people who were in the way of his politics. After all he also was quite active within the politics of the city. We also know from some dialogue that Cazador used his absolute control over the spawn at times to force them to torture themselves or each other.

One big aspect of people in abusive relationships (be it romantic relationships - or familiar relationships) is that the abuser will try to take away any possible support. I do assume that him playing the spawn against each other and making them torture each other is partly meant to destroy trust between them.

And of course, they just could not get help from the outside. Partly because of his rules and command. And partly, too, because I assume any attempt to get help would end the potential helper's life.

We also know from Astarion's dialogue, as well as the narrator text in the Astarion origin that Astarion gave in fairly quickly and tried to just do what Cazador wanted him to do. But we also know that it basically made no difference because Cazador would find some faults he could punish Astarion for.

So, all in all Astarion spend about 200 years in constant survival mode.

Here is the thing: For someone who has spend two centuries in those condition he appears surprisingly... functioning. Sure, he is a snarky bastard. And yeah, he also cannot fathom you helping him without him paying you in sex. But he... well, he is not a pile of misery sitting in a corner.

There might well be a reason for this, though: He is still in survival mode (because of the entire tadpole and world ending thing), and he also has a concrete goal (kill Cazador). The big question is how he is gonna relate and work through the trauma after the end of the game, when both the life-or-death situation ended and Cazador is dead.

Because, look. Our boy is going to need to work through all of that trauma. There is no way around it. He needs to work through it and it is gonna be painful.

A lot of people with CPTSD do develop a depression - and I doubt that this precious vampire spawn is going to be any different. Heck, I am going to go so far and say that we do see him being depressed quite a bit even in the game, even as he tries to hide it.

We know from the game he has nightmares of Cazador. Nightmares that kinda mix memories with fears. And those are probably just going to be a fact of his life for a few years. So, sleep is going to be hard at times - and so is going to be other stuff.

There will be stuff that triggers him. In my stuff I write him as easily being triggered by sexual stuff - because there is so much trauma related to it - as well as getting triggered when he is reminded of his scars. But he is also quite good at triggering himself by falling down memory holes.

Given that when you play the Astarion origin we have at least two scenes (probably more, but so far I encountered it two times) where he halucinates Cazador being there and watching him, I would assume that this is also going to stay within his life. Him seeing or hearing Cazador, because it is just so engrained in his memory through trauma.

One big thing I see him struggling with most is, that everything he is right now is what Cazador made him. For better or worse, all his learned behaviors are because of Cazador. And Cazador of course wanted to shape him. If Astarion ends up with Tav (or one of the origin characters), I can also very much see that this is gonna be a big issue for him. Because Astarion needs to change to heal. He cannot let himself be defined by Cazador. But if Tav tries to help this along, Astarion might just think that Tav is just another person who tries to mold him into someone else. (And yes, this is a point of conflict that I bring into Voice of the Voiceless.)

Another issue I could see arise is avoidance behavior. Basically... Here is the thing, trauma will never quite go away - but it can get better, if you work through it. But working through trauma is very, very painful, which is why a lot of traumatized folks instead try to avoid this. Becaue while it leads to betterment on the long run it is more painful for the moment than just trying to forget about it and distract yourself.

And given just the amount of trauma, I can see that easily happening here.

There is another big thing, too, though. Some people have already pointed it out before, but... If romanced it is fairly clear that Astarion is very, very emotionally dependent on Tav. Which absolutely makes a lot of sense, given that from his perspective Tav is (probably) the first ever person in a long, long time, who is actually nice to him and helps him. But you have to see that this, in the end, also is a type of avoidance behavior. Tav is safe, so he just sticks to Tav like a shadow, basically.

It seems to me from the game that Astarion is one of the characters in camp, who very much stick to themselves. Like, you can gleam from dialgoues (even though I still gotta say, I wanted more scenes of the characters doing stuff together at camp) that Wyll and Karlach do hang out at camp. And that Halsin and Gale over time do also kinda take care of everyone. But Astarion mostly tries to stick to himself, not really making connections to anyone.

And I think that also is in a way part of avoidance behavior. Friends means opening himself up, which means having a weakness, which then brings fear of it being exploited. So... yeah, sticking to Tav and Tav alone is so much safer.

But, here, too I think it is something that he, if he wants to heal, needs to learn to overcome. To put it differently: This man needs some friends. He needs people in his life besides Tav. But to get him there might be hard.

I mean, let's be frank. This man needs therapy. He needs therapy so badly. But... I somehow doubt that there are therapists in Faerûn.

So, yeah... He needs to figure it somewhat out on his own, which is only gonna make this harder.

tl;dr

This man is a mess. And even if everything goes well, he is gonna be a mess for at least a few years. Because you just do not get over 200 years of trauma upon trauma, without being a mess somewhere in between.

[vvitchering]

I’m replaying act 1 (for the fifth time) and when Gale is explaining his condition to you he mentions he’s “never told another living soul” about it, except for Tara. You’re telling me this man shut himself up in his tower for an entire year and didn’t tell anyone why and no one ever bothered to find out? He has so few people who care about him in his life that he fell into a depression and disappeared for a year and NO ONE thought to go and check on him and find out what was wrong? He’s had no one but Tara providing help and support until he meets Tav???????

[kokocactus]

haunted hunted and hag-eyed.

[rielzero]

For real though, he's one heck of a street rat... No, sewer rat. Always hungry, always dirty. And out for blood, possibly.

And then there's fully employed necromancer apprentice (at 20) All though I'd argue he'd be wearing nicer clothes around 18-19 much earlier.. Y'know, funded by a certain lich.

(cough) And then shit goes down the drain and he's still wearing the same clothes 6 years later when they're mostly scraps and those boots have seen EVERYTHING.

[pentacass]

solistre 13/x