drabblesbyjubs

[drabblesbyjubs]

me walking to the bathroom at 3am in a massively oversized shirt using gay fanfic on my phone to light the way

[drabblesbyjubs]

Who would read feldspar x Human!Reader (maybe toss in Slate too eventually) because I’ve got a chapter and a half and a bunch of ideas brewing 💅

Sample below! Not proofread at all lol

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If you could scream, you would have when you felt a hand clasp around your ankle. You thrashed against this newcomer’s grasp, pushing and shoving at the firm body that had appeared next to you, tears welling in your eyes. This was it. You were going to die, right here right now. With light fading from behind your eyes, you clawed at your throat, fighting weakly against whoever- or whatever- was pulling you with them. You felt hands on your shoulders, heard breathing; breath. How nice it would be to breathe right now. You felt the body against you take a deep breath, lungs filling with precious air; a taunt, you assumed. Ha ha. Look at me. I can breathe, while you suffer and slowly die. You felt something slide over your head right as the darkness closed in on you. Felt a hand pressing against the sides of the mask. You let the darkness pull you in… BAM! A harsh punch against your chest left you gasping in pain. You hardly registered that you were being pulled along as you clutched at your ribs, hissing at the sharp sting.

Wait. You could breathe. You were alive! You took in lung after lungful of precious air, savoring the precious oxygen like you would never get another chance to (Because for all you knew, you wouldn’t.)

You saw a gloved hand- a three-fingered hand- wave in front of your mask. You followed it up the person’s arm, then their shoulder, then…

What the fuck is that. Gray-Blueish skin, covered in deeper purple-y speckles. Scars across their lips, eyebrow, the side of their hairless head. And- mostly shocking of all- four eyes, all amber in color. You had no idea what kind of crazy dream this was, but you wanted out. The alien thing held one finger in front of their mouth; a gesture to be quiet. Too stunned to speak anyways, you did as you were told. You could tell by the way its lips were pursed, it was holding its breath. It… had given up its oxygen mask for you. The tube leading from this mask to the tank on their back kept the two of you close, its other had wrapped around your wrist. The pack on its back propelled the two of you forward. Suddenly, looming above you, you raelized what the alien had been hushing you for. A giant shape came in to view; bigger thana bus, bigger than a house, bigger than any living animal on the face of the earth. It looked like an anglerfish, but with squid-like tentacles waving behind it. Its teeth were taller than the great old oaks you grew up near. You fought the urge to scream, fighting hard not to let a single sound escape your mouth. Slowly, the two of you drifted past the beast. After a moment, with the alien clearly struggling to continue holding its breath, you came across another anglerfish. But this one, it seemed, was long dead. Suspended in the mist by branches much like those of the meteor you had found, it hung lifelessly, with pine trees growing in its mouth. A fire crackled in the center of the clearing.

The shift from zero gravity to standing on ground again made you nauseous. You gasped, your lungs rasping with the effort of breathing after all of that. You hardly realized the thing that had saved you was talking to you.

“Just what in Hearth’s name do you think you’re doing out there?!” It shouted at you, hands waving frantically as you gazed at the alien through exhausted eyes. “I nearly died saving your ass, stars, i wouldn’t even have known you were up there if it weren’t for that crazy green light you’re holding! You’re awful lucky those angler fish cant see, otherwise you’d be sitting nice and cozy in Big Fella’s belly right now, and I’d still be sitting nice and happy here where i belong! Stars, do you know what kind of a hearts-attack you gave me?!”

You hadnt even noticed the tears welling up in your eyes as your gaze fell to the dusty ground. Soft pine needles littered the floor. You collapsed, curling in on yourself, the stress of having almost died finally getting to you.

“Shit, kid, I’m sorry.” You heard the alien say, though their voice seemed distance and insignificant. “I didn’t mean to go so hard on you. You scared me, is all. How’d you even get all the way here from Timber Hearth?”

Their voice had softened, only making you cry more. You wanted to go home. You felthands on the helmet they had placed on you.

“Here, kiddo, let me ta- woah.” Their words froze in their tracks.

The alien creature was silent for so long you thought maybe it had left you for a second. You wiped tears from your eyes, looking up, afraid of what this thing would do to you. And another though; why could you understand it…? How did it speak English? Was this some Area-51 shit?

“What… are you?” It asked you. You scoffed, the sound coming out a lot meaner than you intended.

“I should be asking you that.” You choked out, wiping tears from your cheeks. By now, you had concluded that whatever this thing was, its initial opportunity to harm you had passed. It seemed just as shocked as you, to be honest.

[drabblesbyjubs]

SOBBING RN

from that day on I was his

[drabblesbyjubs]

this is so sick

~ If I became an evil for this world... I became an ideal evil ~ My oc Taalven has always been a model of a knight, able to control his passions. Moreover, his entire clan and family renounced their emotions for the sake of duty. The guardian of the world must be morally strong. The guardian of the world must be ideal... in order to defeat the Phenomenon of the Ideal, which is capable of enslaving him. So what happens if the knight loses to himself?

[drabblesbyjubs]

Keeping this because sobbing

The Sunwalker's Gift

Synopsis: Legends say those who were cursed to live in the shadows are not lost. There is a ring, a ring of incredible power that allows its vampiric wearer to walk in the sun once more. If there is one thing you know, it is that Astarion—your partner, your lover—deserves to own this ring more than anyone. You put yourself in great danger to acquire it for him without his knowledge but in the end, you succeed. So now, what magical piece of jewellery would be more suitable to propose to the vampire spawn you want to spend the rest of your life with than this one?

A/N: Who’s the goose that’s on the loose…

Words: 1694 Warnings: so much fluff, mentions of smut, SPOILERS FOR ACT 3

Blood, tears, sweat, another suicide mission. The rusty ring in your hand almost appeared as if it hadn’t been worth it to risk your neck and sanity for it but appearances were deceptive. This unassuming piece of jewellery in your hand held the answer to Astarion’s prayers. The very object that had made this long and exhausting search so rewarding in the end.

He didn’t know about it yet. He had no idea you’d had a lead with this legendary object at all. And after months of relentless and disappointing searches, Astarion had all but decided the ring was just another myth created to mock him in his misery… to the very point you had begun to doubt your decision to stop him from finishing Cazador’s work and letting him ascend.

You took a deep breath, shaking your head to chase the thought away. No. Walking in the sun was not worth spoiling his mind, his very soul—regardless of the fact you would have never left his side. You’d decided that the night he had confessed his feelings for you. This man was to be yours, forever.

Now you’d give this ring a little bit of polishing, and a bath in vinegar and soap and then you were certain it would look as good as new. You couldn’t wait to see the look on his face, to see the first moment he slid it on his finger and stepped back into the daylight without tadpoles and sacrificed souls. Nervousness washed over you when you pictured your plan in your head but there was no doubt—only excitement and impatience.

Today would change his life for the better. Perhaps one day, if he so wished, you would even find a way to cure his vampirism altogether but for now, you wanted him to have this gift.

Your shared bedroom was empty, the sheets unmade and the smell of sex still lingering in the air. You were still getting used to the nocturnal lifestyle, of course. Staying up with him all night and sleeping during the day was messing with your inner body clock but it was a small price to pay to be with him.

The wooden door leading out to the balcony was open, the barest hint of light pouring through the gap. You approached it on bare feet, the hinges creaking when you pushed the door open further.

“There you are,” he mused without turning around. Astarion was leaning against the metal railing of the balcony, staring into the darkness. A few torches here and there lit the still-sleeping city as the sun began to crawl up from behind the hills, the chirping birds urging it on to start the morning. He truly was a sight to behold—shirtless and pale, even with the everlasting scars Cazador had inflicted on his back, you were overcome with the urge to drag him back to bed and have your way with him in an instant. You did that a lot these days—giving him pleasure upon pleasure without asking for anything in return. Astarion had learned in a rather rewarding way what your mouth and tongue could do for him. Teaching him to be intimate with you in a both consensual and sensual way was a task you were happy to pursue.

You hummed in response, walking up to him to sling your arms around his middle from behind, the ring hidden in the pocket of your morning robe. You pressed the side of your face against his back, his cold skin cooling your heated cheek.

He had been doing this a lot lately. Dragging out the final moments of the night, catching a glimpse of the sun and Baldur’s Gate below him before retreating to the shadows again to ensure his own survival. No more. You sighed.

“What is it, darling?”

“Nothing… I just… love you.”

Astarion chuckled—a barely audible sound coating your heart like sweet honey. At last, he turned around to face, your arms still wrapped around him. You had to look up to meet those crimson-red eyes and the gentle smile tugging on his lips.

“I love you too.”

“I don’t ever want to be apart from you again, my love.”

“Nor I from you,” he purred. His smile was gentle, genuine. You’d fought hard to make him drop that wall of feigned confidence and reveal the real feelings lying underneath. Now, you couldn’t get enough of it. “Let’s head back inside. I’m starting to feel… warm.”

“Just a moment, please.”

The vampire spawn raised his eyebrows but waited nonetheless.

“You said forever,” you went on, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Yes?” He dragged the word out and smirked, reciprocating your hug now; his palms resting against your waist. His closeness calmed your nerves, encouraging you without him knowing.

“I… I want forever to start now. I want us to belong to each other and I want everyone to know.”

“Oh my… you’re feeling quite poetic today, my sweet. I don’t object.”

The first sunbeams hit the stone floor of the balcony upon his playful teasing and you could tell that he was getting nervous, eager to flee to the bedroom to avoid the angry burns he expected any moment now.

With a deep breath, you freed yourself from his embrace and took a step back to get down on one knee. It was then you saw the surprise dominating his beautiful face, his lips parting. Determined, you reached into your pocket and pulled out the shiny ring, holding it out to him.

“Astarion Ancunín… will you make me the happiest woman of Faerûn and marry me?”

It took him a heartbeat to remember how to draw oxygen himself, it seemed. He muttered your name under his breath, red eyes fixed on the plain but powerful ring in your hands. He didn’t recognise it, of course, didn’t expect it to be what it was. He had no reason to believe that this unimpressive piece of jewellery was about to return something to him which should have never been taken in the first place.

“Marry you?” he repeated, almost unbelieving. “I… I do, love. I want… yes.”

Yes. You smiled, the weight of uncertainty falling from your shoulders at once. You took his hand in his, sliding the ring on his finger and rose to your feet again, wrapping your arms around his neck to kiss him.

Astarion melted into your affectionate treatment without hesitation, yet you could tell he was holding back. Uneasy, he pulled away.

“Darling, as much as I would like to savour this moment, could we celebrate our engagement inside?” He glanced at the sun rising higher and higher. Any second now the balcony would be fully submerged in its warm light.

Instead of responding to his plea, however, you only smiled at him. You were certain this would work—you had seen the ring in action after all, made sure it was safe before you took it to your love. You had met up with Dalyria, one of Astarion’s spawn siblings, in secret, only two days ago for this exact reason and she had volunteered to try the effects of the ring—saying it was the least she could do in return after Astarion had freed them.

“I need to get inside!” You reached for his hands when he panicked, holding him in place. Only seconds later, you were both drowned in the soft morning sunlight.

Astarion squeezed his eyes shut and flinched, expecting the burn and the pain the day brought him—but nothing happened. He remained standing, the sunbeams warming his skin.

“What… what is… how is this possible?” he breathed out.

“The Sunwalker’s Gift. It’s the ring, Astarion.”

His red eyes widened, disbelief swinging in his smooth voice as he looked down on his ring-clad finger to admire the shining piece of jewellery reflecting the sunlight. “But… but how? How did you get it?”

“The mage we found and spoke to contacted me a few weeks back. He put me in touch with a bard who meddled with vampires before—two of which, after a couple of pints, revealed that the ring was every vampire’s secret dream and rumoured to have been buried with a deceased vampire lord in the lands north of Rivington a couple of centuries ago. After that, the mage and I returned to do more research and discovered where his tomb is located.”

“And you went to this tomb… alone? Have you lost your mind? Gods, anything could have happened to you!” He was trying his best to be upset, truly. You had to hold back a giggle when his voice went a little high-pitched. It was flattering knowing that the only person this gorgeous man had ever truly shown honest concern for was you.

“I wasn’t alone, I promise. I had help. Halsin and Gale accompanied me.”

“Halsin I can understand. But… Gale?” He pretended to gag, eliciting another childish giggle from you. But then, his tone became more serious once again.

“You did this for me… I…” The very hint of an embarrassed laugh clung to his words. “I’m not sure I even deserve you.”

“You do. I love you. And you’re stuck with me now. You just agreed to be my husband, remember?”

“How could I?” Astarion muttered your name again. There was admiration and affection as it left his lips like a prayer. You had no doubt that part of him was still processing what this engagement ring really meant. It was too early still for joyous screams and running across the flower fields hand in hand. “Thank you. This is… I did not dare dream of this and yet you continue to surprise me. I just… thank you, my love.”

You nodded. “I told you all I want is for you to be happy. I would have turned every single rock in Faerûn to find this ring for you. Now come on. We have a long day ahead of us and a wedding to plan.”

Astarion smirked, his red eyes sparkling with joy, relief and affection. “Darling… there is nothing I’d like more.”

A/N: I am so crazy for him this is abnormal even for me. I'LL BE GETTING A GROUP PHOTO WITH THE WHOLE MAIN CAST AT MCM, I'M SO HYPED!

[drabblesbyjubs]

Keeping this I love it

The Sound of Being Loved

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Possibly OOC. I'm posting this at like 12am and I am so tired sleepy but I needed to finish this Or Else

Warnings: some hurt/comfort, talk about The Scar™️

Word Count: 737

Masterlist

AO3

Astarion let out a stiff breath as your fingers brushed over the scar. The poem. The sigil. Whatever it was Cazador'd carved into his back.

You'd asked him about it before. He'd answer curtly and bitterly - as he’d always done when his master was the subject of conversation. But that was so long ago now. At least, it felt quite long ago. He couldn't really be sure. All he knew was things were finally dying down and becoming normal. As normal as things could be, anyway. And you couldn't stop yourself from asking again.

That's how you ended up straddling his thighs as he laid chest-down on the bed.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," you reminded him softly. You kept repeating the phrase when he tensed beneath your fingers, or got that quiet, distant aura about him.

He hummed, turning his head to peek over his shoulder at you. He offered the most reassuring smile he could muster. "Go on," he encouraged. "He's dead - it doesn't matter anymore."

You tilted your head. Sharp eyes studied him, searching for any hint of a lie. He sighed quietly as your hand massaged the back of his neck. "But it still happened," you said, "you still hate it."

He smirked, but his quiet voice gave away the false confidence. "You know me too well, darling."

"Yes," you leaned down to kiss his cheek, "I do." He turned his head slightly more to catch your lips for a momentary kiss. Your lips hovered over his, eyes boring into his soul, searching. "I can stop."

"No. Please. I... I want you to know every part of me. I trust you."

You kissed him once more, languid and sweet, before sitting back up. He closed his eyes and tried to relax under your fingers. They danced across his back, tracing each line in their circular pattern. One hand slid to his waist to thumb circles into his side. He wondered why for a moment. Surely it would be easier to feel each infernal letter with both hands? Then he realized: it was a distraction. You were giving him something to focus on while you studied his back. His undead heart stuttered in his chest.

“I could translate it,” you whisper. It’s a gentle offer. “If you wanted to know what it says.”

Cazador is dead, he reminds himself. Whatever the bastard carved into his skin, it shouldn’t hold so much power over him anymore. But the thought of knowing exactly what was written there… His lips pursed.

You pressed a kiss to his spine, in between the circles of text. He lets out a breath. “No. Let it die with him.”

You’re quiet as you go back to tracing. He wonders if you’re translating it in your mind. He… doesn’t mind the thought - not as much as he thought he would. He trusts you, enough to know you would take the words to your grave. They would never be used against him, held over him as leverage. They’d just sit in a corner of your mind and collect dust, until their meaning is lost forever. He doesn’t mind that at all.

Once you’ve felt all of the letters, your hand traces the circles themselves. Starting right at the center, you go out ring by ring. Where scarred lines branch off, you ghost your touch up and down the ridges. There are several at the bottom of the scar. It almost looks like dripping wax, sealed into his skin forever. Imagining what it was like hurts too much.

He peeks over his shoulder again as he feels your hands, full, flat-palmed on his skin, sliding over his sides. You lay on top of him, sliding your arms around him, squished between his stomach and the bed. You’re so warm. Your head rests between his shoulder blades, breaths sliding across his back and shoulders like a warm summer breeze. His body fully relaxed into the affection. All tension faded away, and he allowed his eyes to close in the comfort.

“I love you,” you hum near his ear. “My beautiful star.”

Astarion smiles. “I love you, too. My dearest blood donor.” He relishes in the way you laugh against him, full and bright and free. And he hopes, when he’s lived for centuries more, and loses the spark of life in his eye, he remembers exactly how it sounds to be loved.

[drabblesbyjubs]

Man, I'm so tired of seeing the Sexuality discourse under the BG3 or Astarion tags. The amount of people posting that it's "Irritating" or "Disgusting" to see him with a female partner is rediculous, and straight up bi/pan-phobic.

It doesn't matter if Astarion has had more male partners in the past, and it doesn't matter if he's more flamboyant than the other male companions/characters. That does not make a person 'gay-coded.' To say he is strictly gay is to erase his canonical sexuality.

Astarion is Pansexual, as said by his writer and Niel, the actor that portrayed him. Pansexuality by definition, "Pansexuality is sexual, romantic, or emotional attraction towards people of all genders, or regardless of their sex or gender identity. Pansexual people might refer to themselves as gender-blind, asserting that gender and sex are not determining factors in their romantic or sexual attraction to others."

As a Pansexual person, it's been great representation to see that all of the companions are Bi/Pan, because not often is that given to us in media. I am in a "Hetero" relationship, but that does not erase the fact I am a proud Queer person, and it doesn't negate my same-sex relationships in the past. That doesn't remove my sexuality in anyway -- I am who I am.

Astarion isn't Gay. Astarion isn't Hetero. Astarion is Astarion, he likes what he likes, and people need to stop erasing his sexuality and/or trauma to fit what they want him to be.

Do some research on Pansexuality and Bisexuality, and stop the discourse of erasing Bi/Pan people from our communities. We are unapologetically ourselves, and if Astarion existed for #realzies, he would be to. Astarion has no limits to who he falls for, because that's the beauty of Pansexuality. Pans people fall in love with who you are at your core, not what's between your legs, and that to me is Astarions whole story in a nutshell. You saved him, you helped him, you made him realize he was worth more than his body.

In the great words of the Pale Elf himself; "Oh Come off. You're Wonderful. I don't care what you look like. What you cannot do, is make my decisions for me. I've had more than enough of that in my life"

Sincerely, a Pans Astarion enjoyer.

[drabblesbyjubs]

Reposting to read later bc sobbing

One Thing

Summary: You did it. Cazador's dead and now... Astarion is finding himself working through some big emotions. Pairing: Astarion x gn!reader Word Count: 3.5 k Warnings: General angst, eluding to physical, emotional, and sexual abuse. Possibly ooc Astarion. Quickly edited. Song Recommendation: Never Let Me Go + Florence and the Machine Author's Note: First thing I've ever written for Astarion but I get the feeling it won't be the last. I really genuinely just wanted to get this idea out of my brain even if it's a bit strange and not all that amazing haha.

It had been a long day. Perhaps one of the longest you and your party had endured yet, or... at least it felt that way. It wasn't hard on your body like the goblin fight had been, nor had it been arcanely exhaustive like chasing that damned hag was. No, standing in the halls of Cazador's palace brought a different type of exhaustion. Passing through the spaces that your lover had once stalked attempting to go unseen by his master, seeing the sights of the spaces he was kept, smelling the decay, the putridness that no doubt lingered in the meals he was forced to partake in.

Every sight, smell, and sound you had come across weighed heavily on you. Even now as you sat in the plush comfort that was Elfsong Inn, freshly washed, the scents lingered in your nose and left a bitter taste in your mouth.

You pushed around the hastily prepared hash in your bowl, frown bared for everyone to see. Your thoughts were only for him. Every second of silence you could hear his sobs in that moment. The cries pulled from his very core, the kind of cries you could imagine he had dreamed of releasing for so long through every moment of torture he was subjected to. There was no way to imagine all of the atrocities he had suffered, yet somehow being left with nothing made every idea that flitted past your mind's eye so much worse.

You for so long had wished to weep for him. Weep for the time he had lost. Weep for the pain he must have felt in having to stand on the outside wondering if his family and friends ever thought of him again after he passed on. Weep for the crushed hopes for the future he had at one time had.

But what good would your tears do him now?

Cazador was dead.

And more importantly... Astarion was free.

So why did it all still feel so... excruciatingly heavy?

"Ts'ka --- eat and do not play. You need your strength for tomorrow." Lae'zel pushed from her lounging position on the floor.

"Have some heart, Lae'zel. It’s been a very difficult day." Wyll was quick to defend upon seeing the way your expression soured at the thought of eating. "Y/n, had to assist our resident vampire through some very hard things today. Including walking through where he had been kept prisoner. Imagine having to do the same with your lover." He said with a gesture towards Lae'zel.

"If I had a lover they would be able to care for themselves; it would be the first thing I looked for in a mate. A prowess to stay alive in battle like my own is the only thing that is truly attractive." Lae'zel said with a lifted chin.

Wyll's lips parted as if to say something more but began to shake his head, there was no fighting with La'zel. She didn't dig her heels in when it came to opinions, no her entire feet were buried. "Speaking of Astarion, where is he?" He eventually asked, changing the focus of the conversation.

"I believe he went for a bath." Shadowheart interjected, "He said something about not being able to stand having his beauty mired... you know how he is." She said, not lifting her eyes from her bowl with a small wave of her spoon that was held in delicate fingers.

Her saying this seemed to pull your eyes towards the door of the wash room. It had been a while since he left now that you thought about it. Your brows lowered a bit in thought; Astarion deserved his space right now, but you still couldn't help but want to hold his hand and not let it go after everything that had happened today. Maybe he wouldn't want that though, not with what you did today.

That look in his eyes...

Now that he had the time to actually think about what you did, what you talked him into doing; would he feel betrayed?

You had promised him you'd help him get that power he so desired, but when that chance came you changed your mind.

The idea of Astarion no longer trusting you hurt more than imagining him ending whatever it was the two of you had. The worries made your expression sullen even more, looking down at your bowl with a deeper pit growing in your stomach. Did you really want to find out?

Out of the blue, there is a light nudge to your arm. The little touch is enough to pull you back up from your descent into grieving something you hadn't even lost yet. With a glance to your right you find Karlach with a bottle outstretched to you. "I think we could all use a little drink tonight... but especially Astarion." She said warmly, "Perhaps you should see if he wants some?" She continued with a little jerk of her head towards the closed doors. Her tone made it all to clear that your inner turmoil was written out on your face for everyone to see.

A sigh escaped your throat as you debated on whether or not that was a good idea but the way Karlach began to lazily swing the bottle back and forth with her hand triggered something in your mind that made you reach out and take it in one smooth movement.

It couldn't hurt to check in on him?

Could it?

Astarion's head was rested back, hanging over the edge of the bath he sat in. The water had lost the majority of its warmth, and his hand had pruned but he made no movements to get out. Eyes transfixed on the dancing flames in the fireplace at the side of the room. Every twist of orange and lift of a spark made his mind lurch through another memory; they all seemed to be coming back to him now, one by one. His mind shuddered from the thought of a blade pressed into his skin, carving, etching, his skin becoming the canvas for a dastardly design that he wouldn't understand for years.

Funnily, the recollection of pain wasn't what bothered him. It was having to recall his own voice struggling not to escape his lips throughout the entire gut-wrenching experience that made his hand ball into a fist.

With a pop and crackle of the wood Astarion's memories would carry on to something else.

His ears ringing, echoing the silence of that tomb. Gods above that tomb. That year spent in silence. Those months spent starving. The way his hands bled from trying ever so desperately to escape. Over what...? A boy that he couldn't bear to steal the life away from.

Astarion took in a sharp breath as he tried to shake away the thought, as he sat up.

But still the memories continued to bleed through. The faces of all those people he had brought to Cazador, he could see them in his mind's eye. The memories of bedding some of them, cycling through his head in a complete sequence even though they were spread across centuries. A flash of a young human woman who excitedly spun in a brand new red dress that she was ever so excited to show off. The pale blue of a nervous elf man's eyes as they darted around the room the second Astarion approached. Seeing the tattoos and the scars spread across the back of a dwarven sailor who stretched after returning to the mainland after a long voyage. The shine of a coy tiefling woman's smile as she attempted to steal his coin purse from his pocket. So many lives, so many people. At what point did he begin to stop caring? Who was it that he pulled by the wrist back to a dreary room that made him start drifting away any time he had to become intimate? Or was it any of them at all?

His features twisted into an expression of disgust the second his mind started going down that path. There was no amount of Cazador being dead that made those memories better. In a snap his balled up hands lifted to rub his eyes in annoyance. If only Astarion could wash out his eyes and his mind and start anew. If only.

And to think... he had wanted this for so long.

He had dreamt about the day he'd be able to have the cathartic feeling of stabbing Cazador, again, and again, and again. And now that it had come and gone... he wished he could have kept going forever. Fuck, he wished he had. After everything Cazador had done to him, the bastard deserved so much worse than to bleed out on that cold floor. He deserved to suffer just as much as Astarion had, if not more.

Astarion couldn't help but wish that he had ignored everyone and continued the ritual as a perfect slap in the face to Cazador. Continued that ritual, so for the first time in all these years... he'd be safe. Entirely safe. And the loss of that made his chest ache, he was so close to crying all over again.

But then...

Tap, tap, tap

"Astarion," Your voice started from just beyond the doors. "I'm sorry to bother you. I just um... wanted to check in. Karlach thought you might need a drink."

There was you.

Astarion's head lifted from his hands as he took in a deep breath. He tried to shove all those emotions back down again, to put the cork back in the bottle before they could really bleed out into him properly. His gaze lingering on the door, lips unmoving.

"Didn't you hear him? If you complete the ritual, you'll be consumed, Astarion." You had said with a look of sincere terror in your eyes. The look wasn't foreign to him... but perhaps different? People had been scared of him before, oh people had been terrified once they realized what he was. But just how many people had been scared for him? That... he didn't know.

He couldn't remember his exact words in reply now, the tension and adrenaline leaving them in a silent part of his mind but what he did recall was the way you looked at him. It stung. It stung so much more than the little voice in the back of his mind screaming that you were breaking your promise.

You promised to help him ascend. You swore you would help him ascend. You said---

Gods that look. Astarion couldn’t shake it.

The way your eyes seemed to plead with him before you had even opened your mouth. Begging him to reconsider. "I know you think this will set you free, but it won't." Your voice was so gentle, but still so desperate. "This power will trap you, just like it trapped Cazador. Is that really what you want?"

You were right, as much as he hated it. You were always right.

But more than that. As he thought about it now, he recognized something that he hadn't in that moment...

Just outside the door you stood listening, hoping to hear something, anything. Your thumb fumbled with the cork of the bottle nervously. This was a bad idea wasn't it? He needed more time. This was too soon to try and come see him. Gods... what if he really did hate you for what you did. You started to shake your head, "...I'm going to take that as a no. I'll um..." you started lightly, trying not to have your worry show through in your words. "I'm sorry again for interrupting. I'll see you when you're finished, my darling."

Once more. You wanted to call him that one more time before he had a chance to break things off.

"Come in."

Your eyes couldn't help but widen ever so slightly, hand moving to the handle before cautiously pushing the door open and poking your head in. From this angle you could see Astarion's side profile, the good majority of the grime and blood from the day having been washed away, though his clothes that sat off to the side on a bench, were stained a deep red that would take ages to remove, if it ever came out at all. His eyes soon looked your way tiredly. As an instinct you quickly held up the bottle you had brought him, no words coming to follow it, they all seemed to have gone into hiding the second his eyes landed on you.

"Are you planning on bringing the bottle here my sweet, or to just... swing it around like an idiot?" He asked in a long drawn out way, a tone that felt like he was trying to maintain a sense of normalcy for you, but at this point in your adventure together the look in his eyes was more than enough to tell you that he was working through something.

You were entirely taken aback by the gentle name used, a little bit of relief seeping into your chest. "Y-you want me to come in?"

"Was that not what I said?"

Your lips parted, deciding not to speak just yet and instead closing the door behind you. "I'm sorry... I just didn't want to overstep with you, you know… washing and all." You said slowly, acting as if you weren’t both adults – who had on more than occasion – slept together.

Even now, even after seeing him at his lowest today, you were still trying to respect whatever boundaries he had. The thought made Astarion close his eyes and let out a soft laugh, "Darling, you've seen me naked before, it's fine." He assured, "Now...please, for the love of gore and everything soaked in blood, can you bring me that bottle."

There was no reluctance now, carrying yourself to his side with ease. As you approached you couldn't help but notice that his hair was still matted thick with blood in places. All this time he clearly had just been lost in his thoughts as much as you expected really. His hand reached up the second you drew near, taking the bottle from your hands greedily, popping the cork and taking a decidedly long drink. Not minding you at all as you reluctantly found a seat on the bench his clothes were rested upon.

The sight of his nose scrunching a bit from the taste of the wine made an ever so small smile tug at the corner of your mouth. It was hard not to recall him making that same face at the tiefling party not so long ago. Vinegar for wine. Would there be a day when the wine you brought him didn't elicit that involuntary response?

Astarion glanced at you from the corner of his eye, "You'd have made an excellent vampire, you know." He said with an amused little grin, all happy to see the confusion cover your features.

"Why is that?"

"Asking to come in, obviously." He joked loosely,

A small laugh left your lips as your eyes drifted to the floor, "I didn't realize that respecting people's privacy was so vampiresque."

"It's not, we're atrociously nosey by nature and well... it's just another fun hindrance to go against that nature I suppose." Astarion spoke in his normal moseying draw. 

"I see..."

There was a breadth of silence between the two of you. A silence that carried the heaviness of the day's events. You knew it needed to be said, but it didn't make it any easier to consider what the exact words were that needed saying. How to broach it? What if he didn’t want to talk about it at all and you misread the situation entirely? You kept glancing his way hoping to have it all come together in your mind like some sort of epiphany, yet he beat you to it.

"I'm not upset with you, darling. You don't have to keep looking at me like that." Astarion spoke suddenly with all the ease in the world.

"You're not?"

"Well,  perhaps I was a little at first. You did go back on your word, after all." Astarion pointed out, eyes now fixed on the bottle in his hand. “I think anyone might be a bit… sour after something like that.”

There was the guilt again. "Astarion... I'm sorry, I---"

"I don't want your apologies." He cut in sharply, finally turning his gaze to look your way.  Despite what his tone may have indicated, his eyes weren't as stern as they normally appeared when he was upset. No, they were instead ever so full of sadness.  "...I-I'm not angry with you. I swear it. But what I don't understand is why I don't feel any fucking better." Astarion said as his voice suddenly sounded so much more fragile. "I... I killed him. I got the revenge I've dreamed about for two-hundred fucking years. The same revenge I begged for the whole year I was locked in that horrid tomb." He hissed, "I took back my life and yet I... I feel like I didn't do enough."

He was cracking. That much you could see.

"I can't help but wonder if I had completed the ceremony if that would have been enough. Enough to rub it in his Gods damned face that I did it." Astarion admitted sternly, lifting his chin as his eyes stayed focused on the bottle still, "Watch this worm take away everything from him like he took everything from me." He mumbled out, the heat leaving his voice for a brief second as all that he was left with was glassy eyes.

"...I-I would have never had to fear anyone or anything ever again..." Astarion uttered through clenched teeth, tears finally breaking free and running down his cheeks one at a time. "...and now it's gone."

Wordlessly you got to your feet, taking a few steps forward to close the gap between you both, leaning down to wrap your arms around his neck in the most comforting hug you could possibly muster. His hand immediately finds your arm, holding it tight as for the second time in your journey, he begins to cry.

Silence seems to be what Astarion needed from you, wailing into the open air as everything he has stuffed away into that bottle comes pouring back out. No apologies. No consoling words. Just for you to hold him, to give him time. His head rests against yours almost as if to ensure that even now, after everything you both had been through, you couldn't see him cry. Perhaps the idea of you seeing it happen twice in a day was too much for him. Or perhaps there was still a festering feeling of weakness that would bubble up if he let you see him cry.

"Oh my sweet, sweet, Astarion." You mumbled holding him tighter than before, listening as his sobs grew softer over the passing moments. 

Waiting. Listening.

Once his frame had stopped shaking you finally raised your voice once more . "...if I could Astarion, I would take away all of the hurt in an instant... but I can't. And I wish you knew just how much it pains me to not be able to." You speak, parting your lips to continue on but pause as you feel a familiar shudder resonate through your mind. He was peering in, confirming the statement for himself it seemed. "The most I can do is promise you something..." you continued on, pretending like you weren't aware of poking around, you had nothing to hide for one key reason…

Gently you pulled back, running your hand from his neck to his chin to tilt his head up. Eyes looking over his tear stained cheeks and then to meet his own shimmering red eyes. "I promise you that, as long as I'm here you will never have to fear anything... or anyone again." You assured, thumbs brushing over his cheeks as you wipe away his remaining tears. “Because Astarion… I love you and… I will never let you go.”

The look that fills Astarion's eyes is something that you had only seen once before when you decided to hug him for the first time back in the Shadowlands. It was a look that spoke numbers towards just how frightening the unknown was for him. How terrifying it could be to have someone love you so truly and want nothing in return for the first time in his life.

You feel a rush of surprise followed by so overwhelming, your lips curl into the same smile you gave him then as you had reached out to wrap your arms around him to hold him tight…

You know the feeling even if he can’t say it yet.

Love.

Because that was the thing. Astarion had realized before this that you… well, you were the only good thing that he’s ever had. That he’d do just about anything to keep you safe and ensure that no one dare take you away from him. Yet, strangely he never once considered…

That he might mean just that much to you.

End Notes: Thank you so much for reading! I'd really love to start writing for Astarion more so if you have any ideas send them over <3

[drabblesbyjubs]

Astarion is absolutely a nuzzler once he gets comfortable with tav. Like he will be nuzzling their neck for comfort purposes whether they're hugging or cuddling or he just woke up from a nightmare and needs some reassurance. He finds their smell and warmth incredibly comforting and I'm like 90% sure it played a part in him realizing he'd caught real feelings. Like one night he woke up from a bad dream and pressed his face into their neck and realized it felt like comfort and safety and he was done.

[drabblesbyjubs]

Sobbing

careful repairs (on clive)

[drabblesbyjubs]

"It isn't worth the scars anymore."

[drabblesbyjubs]

Caress

Astarion x gn! Reader; your boundaries on where Astarion can touch you and where you can touch him have always been a little fuzzy, but he struggles to word what he means when attempting to simply tell you where he doesn’t want to be touched. He tosses out an idea, and the two of you explore your comfort zones. This could be seen at a pt 2 to Just Need Time, its very soft and fluffy, sort of building on that healing aspect.

Fluff, hurt/comfort, non-sexual nudity, some minor sexual content but no actual smut, trauma, Astarion’s backstory stuff, minor spoilers for Astarion’s story in act 3, minors go bye bye pls

I wrote this on my first day at my new job. This fic was born in the kitchens of a nursing home

Intimacy was always daunting to Astarion.

Emotional intimacy was close, it was vulnerable, it was a means to exploit. And it was terrifying. Physical intimacy was a task, something Astarion struggled to enjoy.

More than a few times he had feared you leaving him because he couldn’t provide the intimacy you deserved. He wasn’t always emotionally available, sometimes we was so apathetic he feared you would be disgusted with him, but there were some things he just couldn’t care about. Even if he wanted to, caring was vulnerable, and it wasn’t allowed. Survival of the fittest.

He was next to never physically available for intimacy; either he completely zoned out before you even got his pants off, the thought of a hug lingering too long sent shivers down his spine, or a hand on his hip pulled a fear response from him, making his whip around to face you, ready to push you away.

You were so understanding that it hurt.

Never once did you judge, never once were you angry or upset. That was almost worse than you being angry; just not knowing what you were thinking. The uncertainty was horrible.

Uncertainty over how you thought of him, uncertainty of where he even liked you touching. Sometimes your soft, romantic touches made his heart soar; they were safe, there was no fear, no ulterior motive, only you, at face value. He loved those times. He wished he knew them more. There were so many little places he was and wasn’t okay with you touching him, he couldn’t even keep track of them.

Maybe it was worth finding out.

..

“Darling?” Astarion approached your tent, and you looked up from the book you had been reading, smiling when you saw that handsome face you’d come to love.

“Astarion,” you greeted, setting down your book and standing to meet him. He hugged you, and you held him close. It seemed he was feeling a little touchy today, and you didn’t mind one bit.

“I wanted to talk. Is… now a good time?” Astarion questioned. You felt a pit of nervousness in your stomach; he looked serious.

“Of course, come with me.” You said, leading him in to your tent and shutting it behind you. “What’s wrong?” You asked.

Astarion grabbed your hands tenderly, and you felt nerves twist in your belly.

“I know I haven’t been the best to you.” He began, immediately filling you with doubt and confusion.

“Darling, of course you-“

“Please.. let me get this out.” He gently kissed the back of your hand, and you shuffled nervously.

“I haven’t been the best to you. I’ve been reclusive, and I know you deserve better. The.. the thought of losing you is terrifying. I want to be more open, give you what you deserve, I just… dont know how. I… have a favor to ask of you.”

You gulped nervously. This didn’t seem like he was trying to break up with you… but the way he spoke in such a self deprecating manner, it was so concerning to you.

“What is it, hun?” You asked.

“I.. want you to help me learn where I can and cant touch you. Where you can and cant touch me. I suppose I… just want to admire you. You tell me when and where it’s too much, and you do the same to me. Is… is that okay?” He looked up at you with those beautiful red eyes.

“Like… like what do you mean?” You asked. “Whatever it is, im alright with it, but.. you may have to take the lead, show me what you’d like. Is that alright?”

“I… want to touch you. And want you to touch me.” He hesitantly explained, a shadow of doubt cast over him now. “I dont want it to be… sexual. I… suppose I want to find where im alright with you touching me. And where youre alright with me touching you.”

“Oh,” you said, realization dawning on you. “Oh hun, of course we can do that. That sounds like a great idea.” You kissed the tip of his nose and you smiled seeing the way the tips of his pointed ears flushed.

He smiled, that slight uptick to the corner of his lip, and the way his smile lines showed and his ryes warmed just looking at you. He was so, so beautiful.

You gently cupped his cheeks in your hands, thumbing over the corner of his mouth.

“You’re beautiful,” you muttered, and Astarion rolled his eyes, though his smile didn’t fade for a moment.

“I know. And wonderful, don’t forget.”

You laughed. “And wonderful.” You pulled him in for a kiss, soft and tender. Astarion melted in your touch, his hands lifting to let one wrap around your chest under your arms and the other card through the hair at the back of your head and gently hold you close to him. His lips moved over yours and both of your relaxed in to the kiss.

You pulled away after a moment, saying, “How do you want to do this?”

“Maybe… here, come with me.” He took your hand and lead you to the bedroll in your tent, the two of you sitting on it facing one another. He gave an awkward pause, clearing his throat and saying, “Could… I take the lead, then you take over?”

“Of course,” you say. “Do you want me to take anything off, or keep this all over our clothes?”

“Maybe.. leave our undergarments on, but take off everything else?”

“That sounds alright,” you said. “I have a blanket right there if you need to cover up.” You motioned to the blanket next to the two of you. Astarion nodded in confirmation, and as you began reaching for the hem of your shirt, he asked you, “May I?” He reached your your shirt, pausing before reaching your hands and waiting before moving on.

You smiled, the care and focus in his expression warming your heart. “Of course,” you said. His fingers hooked under the hem of your bed shirt, pulling it up and over your head. The focus in his gaze was wonderful, so careful as if he would shatter you with one wrong move.

He let out a little sigh when he had your shirt off and tossed to the side, as of he had been holding his breath.

“Beautiful as ever,” he whispered, so soft you hardly heard it. You nudged his shoulder with a little laugh. “Gods, Astarion,” you laughed, and he joined you. His hands cupped your cheeks, and he gazed lovingly into your eyes. You had never seen him so… soft. So vulnerable. It was almost like you were looking at an entirely different man to the one you had found in the woods after the illithid ship crashed, the one who had held a knife to your throat and threatened your life. And maybe he really was a different man, after all you had went through.

But he would always be Astarion, forever your little star.

Calloused hands softly traveled down your neck, closely watching you for any reaction. Down your neck, over your shoulders, across your chest. Over your hips and up your stomach, then to your back, scooting close to feel down the line of your spine, to your shoulders, and down your arms, until his fingers tangled in yours.

“Was that alright?” He asked. You nodded, giving him an assuring smile.

“Of course,” you said. You leaned up to kiss him, a gentle peck to his lips before pulling away. Your fingers danced feather light at the hem of his bedshirt.

“May I?” You asked, to which he nodded.

You pulled his shirt up over his head, watching his gaze fall to the ground. It had always made him a little nervous to feel so bare in such an intimate way, but you didn’t let your gaze linger on his body, instead starting how he did, cupping his cheeks.

You moved to trace over the points of his ears, and he laughed softly, relaxing in to your touch as your fingers carded through his hair.

You hands moved to his jawline, before slowly moving to his neck. You watched his smile fade and a more focused expression return. You tilted your head, and he looked to you.

“I’m not sure.” He said, almost as if having read your mind. You nodded; he’d always been iffy about any touch on the side of his neck that Cazador bit him on. You moved on without another word, to his shoulders and his chest. Neither of which he had any complaint over, you noted.

Your fingers ghosted over the muscles of his abdomen, and you noted how Astarion watched your hand with an intent gaze. You thumbed over the top of his pants before gently resting your hands on the small of his back. You looked at him, waiting for him to return your gaze before you asked, “Your back. Is that a no overall?”

He pursed his lips and looked away.

“That… may be situational. I dont mind sometimes, but others…”

You nodded and said, “Don’t worry, my love. I’ll ask you before I ever touch you there, alright?” He nodded, visibly relaxing.

You moved to hook your fingers under the waistband of his pants, once again looking at him for approval before continuing. He nodded, hut you said to him, “Use your words, hun.”

“You can,” he said. He knew you always preferred he be vocal about his consent, instead of implying it. It made it easier for you to judge when he really wanted it.

Sometimes it was hard for him to know when he really wanted it.

Nodding, you gently pulled his pants down, him lifting his hips to help you out. You hummed, seeing him in nothing but his underwear. He truly was beautiful.

Starting with his hips, you pressed your thumbs against his hip bones, before moving to his outer thighs. You felt him grimace a bit, looking up to him.

“It’s alright,” he quickly assured. “Maybe move a little slower, if thats okay?”

“Of course, I’m sorry.” You responded.

Making a note to move more carefully, you moved down to his knees, then his calves. You ran your hands up the insides of his legs, stopping at his inner thighs. He shuffled a little, saying, “I think this is fine.. just let me know before you touch me here, please?”

“Aye aye, captain,” you said with a light hearted smile, moving in to kiss him.

It was slow and sweet, and you felt him squirming a little under you with you leaned over him and your hands on his thighs.

When you pulled away, his hands went up to the waistband of your pants.

When you nodded your approval, he removed the clothing, mimicking your motions with care and attentiveness. He was so gentle.

When he sat back on his knees, you noticed something you handn’t noticed before; Astarion was hard. You looked away quickly, not meaning to be rude, but he noticed your gaze and pulled back, sitting on his bottom and pulling his knees up to his chest to hide himself. Hurriedly, he said, his words coming out in one long string, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, I think I just enjoyed seeing you like this but I dont want this to be sexual and I dont think I can handle being touched like that right now, but if you want me to touch you I can, I just-“

You hushed him, moving up to place a hand on his shoulder and gently thumb at the skin there.

“Darling, hush now. It’s alright. Its perfectly normal. I dont want anything like that right now either.” You assured him, the nearly scared way he looked up at you breaking your heart.

“You… you’re sure? Im still sorry I got… excited, I guess, I promise it wont happen again.” He seemed almost desperate to convince you he was truly sorry, and you gently cupped his cheeks, tilting up his head to look at you.

“My love,” you spoke, voice nearly a whisper. “I promise, it’s alright. We wont be doing anything sexual tonight, and I’ll pretend this didn’t even happen. Okay? There’s no need to be afraid.”

He nodded, his eyes shining almost as if he was on the brink of tears.

“Okay,” he breathed.

You kissed him softly, which he returned after a moment of hesitation.

You leaned back in the bed roll, saying, “Would you like to continue?” He took a breath and nodded, that signature smile returning to his face, even if it was a little forced. His hands crossed your thighs, calves, giving you a cheeky grin as he squeezed your butt, you swatting at him and rolling your eyes.

“You’re sure you’re alright with this all? You haven’t mentioned anything to me about anywhere you dont like…” he trailed, settling next to you.

“I’m sure. If its you, im alright with anything.”

“What?” He said, looking at you. His expressing was one of confusion. “Why?” He propped himself on up his elbows, looking down at you next to him. “What makes me so special?”

You stared back at him for a moment, equally as baffled as him. “What makes you so- Astarion, love, everything. You’re the brightest light in my life, the reason I keep fighting, you’re my everything. I’ve seen the best and worst sides of you, and you’ve seen the best and worst sides of me. You’re the one constant in my life, and you’re absolutely wonderful. I-“ you trailed off a little, noticing the way Astarion stared at you with an unreadable expression; shock, maybe?

His bottom lip started to tremble, and he said in a shaky voice, “You… you mean that?” Before breaking down in to tears.

You stayed still for a moment as he cried, completely caught off guard, watching him shrink down in to the bedroll, but quickly moved to action and pulled him close, gently hushing him. “Shhh, shshsh,” you cooed, burying your nose in his soft hair and combing through the white strands. “It’s alright, hun, don’t worry. It’s okay.”

The way his shoulders heaved with every fresh round of sobs wrenched your heart, and you felt guilt swirl deep within you. “I’m so sorry, I-“

“Don’t,” he managed to breathe between sobs. “You mean it?” He sniffed, looking up to you with a tear stricken gaze.

“Of course,” you cooed. “I mean it all. You’re my everything.” You kissed his forehead, and he was wrecked by a fresh round of sobs, burying his face in your chest. You pulled him close and held him, rocking him softly as he cried. Your poor, sweet boy.

It may have been ten minutes, it may have been an hour. Eventually, Astarion’s breathing slowly began to even out, and his sobs became few and far between. Is a shaky, hoarse voice, he started to speak.

“Two hundred years. For two hundred years I was locked in that crypt.” Your fingers combed through his hair and his memories came back to him. “Cazador put so many horrible thoughts in my head. About myself, about the people around me. I never trusted anyone again until I met you. I never even trusted myself. A monster, I am, just a creature meant to feed off of the innocent. I haven’t been mine in so long.”

You started to speak, started to assure him that he wasn’t a monster, this wasn’t his choice, but you second guessed. Astarion being this vulnerable was… rare. So you gave him his moment.

“You’ve always been so trusting. I thought you were just stupid at first,” he laughed softly, and you rolled your eyes with a little smile. “But I realized that you are the only person whos ever put faith in me. Ever. At least within my memories. You’re… the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time. So careful. So understanding. I dont understand why you care so much, but… thank you. And… I love you.”

Your heart was in your throat, choking you from the inside. You hugged him tighter, kissing the top of his head. “I love you too,” you breathed.

You placed your fingers under his chin to tilt his head up, giving him a warm smile when his eyes met yours. You leaned down to kiss him, pressing your lips against his and closing your eyes, feeling the way he relaxed in to your touch. Your lips moved together, in time as if this were practiced. You pulled away, and he gave you a little smile.

“You’re such a romantic,” you laughed. “It’s adorable. I love it.”

He clicked his tongue and looked away, though the little upwards tick in the corner of his lip gave away his stifled smile.

The rest of the night was filled with stolen kisses, little laughs, and sharing one another’s embrace. Astarion truly was something else, and he saw the same in you. You were the kind of dream he’d always held, a perfect lover who was kind and sweet. You were that. You had been next to him as he gained his freedom, encouraged him and trusted him even when you shouldn’t have. And he was so happy that you had made that choice, now.

.

.

Taglist

@adequate-superstar

@be-a-fish

[drabblesbyjubs]

JUST NEED TIME PT2?? WHERE HE FINALLY HEALS AND WANTS TO BE ABLE TO GIVE IN TO U?!!

Heya!!

I actually have something that could be seen as a part 2 to just need time in the works! Its not a smut fic though, very soft and fluffy, heavy on non sexual nudity, its more about the Tav and astarion exploring one another’s physical boundaries then some super heavy fluff and some hurt/comfort.

I do have another smut fic in mind as well, but this one’s also very soft. I may one day write a full on smut fic with the two, but I personally headcannon Astarion as sex repulsed, and he definitely needs some tlc when writing him in intimate settings otherwise I could stray too far from his actual character. But!! Rest assured, soft fluffy fics and some other stuff will be coming!!

[drabblesbyjubs]

The way I actually screamed “NOOO STOPPPP” bc this made my heart hurt for him so bad I cant

Free, finally.

[drabblesbyjubs]

Sobbing rn

I've seen the "Non-ascended Astarion ending is bad for him because you have to persuade him to reject the ritual" opinion...

..implying that he never really wanted not to ascend, it's you the player who selfishly forces him to give up on his goal. To prove their point, they state that you can get a good ending out of all other companion's quests without using Persuasion at all, except for Astarion.

And boy did I want to talk about this...

(In fact, everything I wanted to say has already been told in this amazing meta post, but I still gotta ramble)

First of all, Astarion was going through an intense PTSD. The game gave him a debuff to show how badly going back to the place of his torment was affecting him. Larian couldn't make it more obvious that he wasn't thinking clearly.

Second, there is one thing all abusers have in common: they destroy their victim's feelings of self-worth to the point, the victim no longer wants or knows how to ask for help or have relationships outside their abusive circle.

Who would want you like this? Look at yourself, you think you're better than me? You're nothing. Who would want to waste their time on you? You think somebody else would treat you better?

Since entering the Cazador's palace, Astarion is reliving his worst moments. Initially, he takes it in stride, hiding his discomfort underneath performative and emotional expressiveness. He talks about how he spent time in the bedrooms where he never did any sleeping, about the kennels where he was tortured, about the barracks where he was sent to when he "deserved neither carrot nor stick". Bad memories, but he shares them with Tav because he trusts them with his scars already. They might as well know the rest.

But after descending into the dungeon, Astarion starts spiraling into self-loathing at a break-neck speed. He used to think that all Cazador victims he ever brought to him were long gone, drained, and discarded. A horrible, undeserved death, yet the thought of them not having to suffer for too long was a small consolation, one of the threads holding his sanity together.

But then it turns out that they weren't dead. They were turned. Locked away deep underground, alone with their new selves, with the hunger and isolation. They did suffer. All these years, they suffered, buried in this tomb - because of him. Cazador may have turned them, but it was Astarion who brought them to him. And they remembered it. They recognized him. The monster who stole them from their home. The monster who ruined their life. Monster. Just like Cazador.

So, as if his PTSD wasn't enough, this revelation was another blow to his grip on himself, his perception of himself. His confident facade was shattering - and in his head, he was starting to think that Tav's idea of him, of who he is, was shattering as well. He tried to warn them before. He said he couldn't be what they saw in him. Whatever person they believed him to be had never existed - and Tav was finally coming to realize that as they walked through the gallery of his sins, looking his victims in the eyes and hearing out what they had to say. Of course, Tav hated him now. They had to. How could they not?

So, at the end, he is scared. Terrified. He bit off more than he could chew by walking into the manor and thinking he had only six fellow spawns to deal with. He saw their lives as a small price to pay because Cazador made sure to erase any solidarity between them. He made them torture each other and compete with each other. He twisted the very meaning of family bonds to his perverted liking, and he knew that by doing so, he would make sure every single one of them would get a whiplash from anyone trying to mention family in a positive connotation. Astarion takes no issue with getting rid of his "brothers" and "sisters" because he is fully aware that had the roles been reversed, they would have sacrificed him without a second thought. And he was certain that Tav would change their mind once they learned more about his brethren.

But the spawns in the dungeon...All the faces he remembered. All the lovers he lured. They did nothing wrong. They never hurt him. They never tortured him. Their only mistake was to trust him.

The revelation horrifies him. His first response is to be shocked, overwhelmed with emotion - and then he has to remind himself that sacrifices must be made. He feigns indifference. He tries to cover his internal conflict with gallows humor. But his flippant mask keeps slipping as he lapses from indifference to anger, to guilt, to begging Tav not to hate him as his greatest crimes glare back at him and claw at him, shouting out threats and seething with hatred.

He can't bear the thought of dealing with all the people whose lives he helped to destroy. He can't do anything for them. Just killing Cazador won't undo what he did to them. He will never be anything but a monster in their eyes. And this is what he deserves to be. He will always be reminded of what he is.

He has no choice but to do the Ritual.

He has no idea what will happen to him after he is done - he isn't a planner. He has never been. But at this point, he doesn't see his soul as something worthy of preserving - and by association, he extends that to other spawns. He knows it all too well because he remembers how it felt. He dissociates, projecting everything he hated about himself onto Cazador's victims, trying to rationalize why he should live and why they must die while he actively avoids the truth.

Completing the ritual is no longer about being free. Or protecting himself and his lover. It's about running away. Even when Astarion has Cazador at his mercy, he still thinks of running away. Getting lost forever. So nobody could ever hurt him.

A part of him even realizes that it means running away from Tav too. But Tav can leave, he naively thinks, not knowing the full consequences of the ritual. Tav will leave to find someone else, someone better, and he will start everything anew, a king of his castle.

So, of course, Tav has to reach out to him through that thick haze of fear, anger, and self-hatred. Persuasion isn't about strongarming someone into doing what you want. It's not subjugation or emotional blackmail. It's reasoning with someone. And that is exactly what Tav does - reasons with Astarion after watching him mentally struggle, after seeing his genuine shock and fear, after understanding that he isn't fully on board with the idea.

It's true, vampire spawns tend to gravitate toward power, especially if nothing is pulling them back. A vampire spawn is a feared and scorned creature - it no longer matters whether they were an unwilling victim, forcefully taken and turned. They are seen not as an individual but as the extension of their master - and the only natural transition for them is to get on the top of the food chain. The only way to make a name and become treated as something more.

Astarion saw power as the mean to safety and freedom, first and foremost. Ironically, he never planned beyond securing these two priorities. He never saw himself after accomplishing his goals, and it's kinda amazing how people can make conclusions about his hedonism because he misses petty vanities, wants to drink blood from a goblet, and sleep on silken sheets. The man who was held and tortured in the kennels, fed rats, and had to stitch and fix his only set of clothes over and over to keep it presentable, the man who has never felt happy for most of his conscious non-life is called hedonistic for wanting nice things. For still wanting to take care of himself for once.

He wasn't harboring any grand plans, conquests, or schemes. Even his idea of taking control of the Absolute was abstract and shapeless because he didn't care about getting control over the most influential people as much as he was afraid of breaking whatever protected him from Cazador's domination. He never really knew what to do with power aside from keeping Cazador and the likes of him at bay.

The way Astarion behaves in a relationship also speaks tons of how controlling he really is...or how he isn't controlling at all. When his romance with Tav transforms into something real, and he enters a new territory, Astarion is empowered to make decisions and think about what he wants instead of pleasuring others. It's clear that he and Tav don't have sex after they come clear about their feelings. Tav respects his comfort and boundaries, gives him all the time he needs, and lets him take the lead. Whether they will have sex again or not is entirely up to Astarion. Whatever he decides, it won't change Tav's feelings for him. He doesn't have to do anything he doesn't want to do.

Astarion enjoys this new autonomy. He is playful, affectionate, outspoken...and afraid of messing everything up. If Tav mentions breaking up, Astarion thinks he is the problem. If there is another potential love interest showing they have eyes for Tav, Astarion encourages Tav to be with them because he believes they can give Tav everything he can't. When Tav says "I choose you," Astarion is taken aback, needing a moment to hide his genuine confusion at Tav actually wanting to be with him rather than Gale, Karlach, or Halsin.

For all his talks of control and dominating others, once Astarion finds himself with a lover who values his autonomy more than getting power at the cost of his dignity, who makes it safe for him to be honest, and who listens to him, he almost stops mentioning control. He merely lives in the moment, happy not to know, not to pretend, not to manipulate. Just to be.

What Astarion truly craves - not wants on a superficial level, not conditioned to want - is not to be a vampire lord. He wants the freedom to be anything. Anything he wants. Little does he know that true vampires rarely get to be anything they want, even if they gain the ability to walk in the sun -- we see it in his Ascended path as, instead of acting up on his supposed freedom to be anything, Astarion repeats Cazador's rules step by step. Just like Cazador did. Just like Verlioth did. He isn't anything he wants. He is the replica of his former master.

Astarion never had the luxury to explore who he wanted to be outside what Cazador made him. He only makes his first steps once he is free. We see glimpses of that deep-seated aspiration to be seen as a person. Treated like a person. Loved like a person. To be reflected in someone's eyes. He wants to know if there is someone beneath his usual mask, something his, not tainted by Cazador. Someone real. And at the same time, he dreads to know the answer. Because that part of him knows regret. Knows shame. Knows guilt. Confronting it posed the risk of realizing he didn't deserve love, kindness, or a future. What if real him truly doesn't amount to anything? What else for him to do?

So, he tells himself that he has no choice, and he expects Tav to affirm it -- not because he wants them to, but because he believes that Tav has seen enough to make the same conclusion. However, Tav objects, trying to be louder than all the inner demons hissing into his ears. Tav speaks to the Astarion, who asked them what they saw when they looked at him. The Astarion, who thanked them for standing by his side when he said "No" to Araj. The Astarion one who stood frozen in their hug before returning it tentatively. The Astarion who diligently, dedicatedly, caringly kept pulling himself together instead of letting himself unravel completely.

Tav reminds him that this Astarion, right here, right now, is worth fighting for. That he didn't survive all these years of torture, pain, humiliation, and dehumanization to give himself up now. He already has the power to avenge himself, avenge all Cazador's victims. He can end everything right here, right now - and this is the only power to free him. He has the power (and responsibility) of having a choice.

Tav empathizes with other spawns as victims not because they're more "innocent" than Astarion, but because associating with them doesn't brand Astarion as weak or broken. These spawns aren't horrible wretches, and neither is he. They don't deserve this, and neither did he.

The only one who deserves to die today is Cazador - the vampire, the monster, the pathetic piece of shit.

Astarion Ancunin deserves to live.

[drabblesbyjubs]

Headcannons about Astarion and his PTSD

Tws// PTSD nightmares and attacks, disassociation, sexual trauma, Astarion’s backstory stuff, minor spoilers for unascended Astarion’s ending. Minors begon

A quick note before we start; PTSD manifests itself differently on a case to case basis. Thats why its so hard to understand, even amongst people who have it; two people who experienced the same traumatic event may react completely differently from one another to certain things. That being said, these are just my headcannons for Astarion based off of my experiences with PTSD.

Astarion’s nightmares have always been rough on him. They didn’t come every night, not like they used to, but when they did, there was no telling how he’d react when he woke up.

He may blink awake, that oh so familiar feeling of dread but also of pure numbness creeping over him. He would sit staring at the ceiling for hours, or at least until you woke up, nearly thoughtless the entire time.

When you noticed, he sometimes wanted to scoot closer and cuddle you, other times just humming an acknowledgement of your awakening before zoning out again. He would eventually get up and moving, but for a few hours, he felt like a complete detachment of himself.

Other times, he would jolt awake, not recognizing you as the one safe thing in his entire life. He lashed out at you once, demanding you leave, scrambling for his knife. He was shaking so hard he couldn’t even pick it up. When those red eyes softened in familiarity, the guilt that swamped him was the worst thing he’d ever felt.

Occasionally, he would awaken in a similar trance of not recognizing you. He would usher you out of bed and insist you had to go, leave, run for the woods and never look back. If you don’t, you’ll never see the light of day again. He will get you.

You knew these times were draining for him, and some days, he just needed some time to sit and reflect for a while; reflect on everything for the past two hundred years, from having his freedom cruelly ripped away, then regaining it, then losing it all over again. It was a lot for you just hearing about it, so you could only imagine how overwhelming it could be to him.

He still tried not to let it rule his life, though, and thats where you came in. You made an easy distraction, something to focus on and give to, something normal.

At times he would lose his focus, but you were always there to keep him on track. While you weren’t the cure for his trauma, you helped to guide him through it as he built comfort in himself and his new life.

You were there through the anxiety, the panic, the angry outbursts. Gods, he always felt terrible for those. But you stayed, because you knew about him, and you knew why, and you knew he was trying. You by no means made excuses for him, but you never shamed him for the things he couldn’t help.

Your patience was the thing he didn’t know he needed. Your understanding, your empathy. Things he would have found weaknesses a mere month ago were the reasons he loves you now. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

..

Super quick hcs, ive got some actually good ones rotting away just need to remember where I put them

[drabblesbyjubs]

I have brainrot seeing Astarion wearing the Graceful Cloth and i must share. Travelling in the Underdark or the Mountain pass, a bit too close to a cliff edge, and the ground crumbles under him. He's about to fall off to god knows where and then his momentum just... stops. He looks up and sees Tav grabbing onto one of the bone ridges of the armour, and he's just hoisted back onto stable ground like he weighs nothing. As they keep walking, he just can't stop glancing at Tav, who's now placed themselves between Astarion and the edge. One of the first and a literal "oh shit I'm falling for them" moments

Yes omg??

I feel like Astarion probably fought with himself for a long time before his confession, and that’s part of why he was so rushed and uncoordinated during it; Moments like this will have him reeling with internal conflict.

They’d do that for any of us, not just me..

Or

Theyre too selfless, they could have gotten themselves hurt. They should have let me die.

..

But you didn’t let him die. You saved him. Despite everything. And gods was he so mad at you for that. For the way you pulled him to safety, the fear in your eyes when he looked up, and the way you looked him over to make sure he was alright, your hands on his shoulder to guide him as you turned him, eyeing him like a mother inspecting her son after he got in a fight with the other neighborhood boys. He was so frustrated that you would sacrifice yourself for the likes of him.

But… he supposed he was thankful. He quite enjoys his newfound freedom. He intends to savor it.

And he’ll need someone around to watch his ass, especially if he keeps pulling stunts like that one.