#anymore astarions??? I'll take them

[loyalborn]

yeah estelle will tell astarion he's beautiful, but she doesn't start with that. first, she tells him he's intelligent, then she tells him that he's bold, that he's brave, talented, passionate, and honest.

and then she'll tell him he's beautiful.

@fiendrites @powerfought @mccnrxse @architaciturn

[rackartyg]

romancing astarion with sorrow, who by level 12 had 22 charisma and +14 to insight, was very funny.

him, 10 cha and +1 to insight: i am a master manipulator

her: yes dear

[rabbiquity]

Astarion adores every part of your body.

He tells you as much every night you spend tangled up in one another. How warm and soft and tight you are, how pliant you are beneath his skillful hands. How very good you're being for him. But even if he didn't tell you, you would know.

Now that he doesn't have to put on a performance anymore, he can be selfish enough to focus on his own pleasure. Sometimes his lip trembles when he bites down to muffle a quiet little whimper as he takes you from behind, cock sliding deep as your body clenches around him. Other times you catch him chanting your name like a filthy prayer as he mouths at your neck, ravenous for a taste of you as he loses himself in your warmth, your scent, your embrace.

All the while, his hands roam over your body, mapping every dip and curve and swell a thousand times over.

The first time he pushes your legs together and slips between your thighs, you hear the moan catch in his throat as a shudder rips through his body. He can't believe how wonderfully soft you are here too, and Astarion’s thrusts grow increasingly desperate until the taut thread inside him snaps and he comes hard across your stomach. He's still panting when he bends down to kiss you.

Your breasts are one of his favorite parts of your body. He's always touching them and massaging them between his hands, but what he really enjoys is straddling you while you lay beneath him on your back so he can fuck them. The tips of his fingers dig into your soft flesh, and he presses your breasts together as his cock glides smoothly between them, the pretty pink tip peeking through just beneath your collar bones with every thrust.

He was already slick and aching before he crawled on top of you, and the way you watch him with pupils blown so wide your eyes are almost black is almost as intoxicating as the way your body always finds a way to mold itself so perfectly around him. You arch your back and cry out when he rolls your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, the place between your legs dripping with need.

“Don't worry, my sweet,” he purrs, acutely aware of your arousal. “I promise I'll take good care of you too.”

He always does.

And you're more than happy to watch him get off this way, with the full, heavy weight of him pumping between your breasts as he chases his release. Closer and closer until he's there, fisting his cock and emptying himself across your chest and onto your waiting tongue. Astarion sags against you and runs a hand through his hair, eyes narrowed to slits as he watches you run your tongue over your lips to get a better taste of him.

And when he finally slips between your legs to return the favor, he's certain there's no place else he'd rather be.

[litsenn]

Astarion and irony, my two cents.

Alright so I was reading this post on reddit about how Astarion's charisma is not that good, and how cringe and awkward he's when he flirts. Very interesting reading, the comments too were inspiring.

Although I agree with a lot of things written by the OP, I wanted to give my two cents... and it turned into a little 'essay'. So I thought I could post it here too.

(As always, it's only my pov, and I don't expect anyone to agree)

Indeed, you can easily tell that his beauty was enough for him to pick up victims for Cazador. With a smile like this, it doesn’t take too much effort to seduce people, especially vulnerable, desperate/drunk targets.

But there’s also something that is rarely addressed: Astarion's dark sense of humour, self-derision and tragical irony. It’s particularly visible in the mirror scene (“tell me I’m beautiful and we can call it a day” with that smirk, or his approval if you tell him you find another companion prettier). Also the dialogue about how you (I'll be using the general you) would prefer to die, or who you would bite; they're all dripping with sarcasm and irony. Likewise, when he tells you, after the first night, that the others could probably hear you from camp: he's jesting, because he's feeling comfortable for the first time in 200 years.

And even the dialog about his favorite pick up lines. Of course he's still trying to seduce you, but I think he's perfectly aware that those “lines” are over the top and won’t work on you. You just challenged him to find something better that "my little treat", so he gives you the worst .

To me, it seems like he knows how ridicule it is, and that’s precisely why he quotes them with so much emphasis. It's dramatic in a sense, because he's doing what he was forced to do for years, although he knows he doesn't have to do it anymore. "His favourite lines" he calls them, although he must hate them (hence the dark look upon his face when he quotes them.); irony again. And no matter how much he must loathe those lines, he seems to be having fun practicing them with you and seeing your reaction. (And if you ask him if he's having fun, i think he's really honest when he says yes, "it's hard not to with you")

It’s just my interpretation, but it's obvious to me that he’s playing – not playing you, but playing with you. Playing in the sense that he knows you won't trust a single word he's saying. And somehow this irony connects the two of you, the laughable (but tragic) idea of Astarion picking up lovers with those lines. His tone is overdramatic when he quotes them precisely because he knows how bad they are (and since Petras uses more or less the same lines, I tend to believe that they come from Cazador).

After all, at this point, you already slept together once, so Astarion knows you’re attracted to him and he doesn’t take that “flirt” too seriously (and that’s precisely why it works on my Durge ahah); he expects you to say yes because of course you liked it the first time.

Obviously, he’s still trying to play it cool because he's scared and confused (you probable are one of the rare persons he can have a second night with), but I don't think he believes those lines can actually turn you on. 

As for the “I love you”, I think he's being ironic again, because he knows you won’t believe him, he's deeply conscious that in this context, it doesn't mean anything and that you won't fall for it... (or will you? Maybe a part of him is already falling for you at this point, so who knows?). Anyway, he first says “what about everyone's favourite ?” which, to me, implies that he’s just making a silly demonstration of the type of “bad flirting” he’s used to. He shows off a little, as if telling you “look how easy it can be...”. The way he changes the tone of his voice and the look upon his face to make those three little words more believable seems to point at something along those lines : it's fun and tragic how much those empty words can make someone fall for you, there's some kind of irony here too.

But you... Well, he never promised to love you, he was clear from the start : only depraved carnal lust, so, obviously, none of you expect to hear "I love you". Dramatic irony again, from a narrative perspective this time, if you take the whole romance storyline.

And that silly yet lowkey tragic conversation is soon deflated by his frontal and casual proposition to have sex again. Another proof, to me, that he knew he didn't need to throw his lines at you, he did it because it was fun, in a pretty dark, ironical way.

He’s wearing a mask, the mask that "can open a lot of doors”, and since he begins to trust you, he laughs at that truth, ironically of course, because his beautiful face, the seduction, that’s also the tragedy of his existence.

Anyway, once again, that's just my personal interpretation, and that's much too long 😅

[tragedybunny]

Sunlight and Stars in the Sky - Astarion x F!Reader

I've been at this so long I'm not even sure if it is any good, but it's as finished as it will get I suppose. It ventured into angst a little more than I had planned and I'm thinking there may be a part two. But anyway, here's the end up with the nicknames they use for each other in my other fics.

The Githyanki Creche is not the promised salvation and you deal with it by trying to drink your problems away. Astarion ends up taking care of you and starts to deal with his feelings and the fallout of his actions.

Unsteady footsteps came up behind him as he stood by the dying fire, in another life that would make you a perfect target. “‘Starion,” you said in a little sing-song voice from behind him. 

“Yes, my Sweet,” turning, he’s already wrapping an arm around your waist to steady you. From the footsteps he could tell you’d been drinking. The Githyanki Creche hadn’t turned out to be the salvation you had hoped for. Some of your companions were taking it worse than others, Lae’zel was in her tent, talking to no one, and you, you were piss drunk. 

“I hate this,” you lean into his chest and despite the grim reality, he feels an odd sense of contentment. 

“I’m sure nobody is particularly enjoying the moment but-” He was cut off as your lips started to kiss their way along his collarbone.

“You know what could make it better…” Teeth suddenly nip him and he jumps involuntarily while you giggle, you put him on edge lately for some reason. “A quick little tumble in the bedroll.” 

Just the thought of taking you in this state of inhibition, so little control over yourself, makes his stomach turn. A small part of him asks if you ever have control given his lies, viciously he kicks that part back down. “Not tonight, my little Snack, you are far too drunk.” 

The pout you reply with is impressive. “Aw, don’t you like me anymore?” Despite your clear inebriation, the words are like a blow and he’s lost for a moment. 

“Of course I do.” Instinctively, he pulls you closer, only for your fingers to start fumbling with his trousers. Gently he takes your hands and holds them away from himself. “Alright, I think it's clear you need some water and to lay down." 

"I'm fine." You push away from him and wobble dangerously before ending up on your butt in the dirt. "Ow," dejectedly, you stay where you landed until your shoulders quiver and he worries tears are next. 

Sighing, he reaches down and scoops you up in his arms, looking you over to make sure you didn't hurt yourself. "How about a deal Darling," he can't believe what he's about to say, "you agree to lay down nicely and get some sleep and I'll let you stay in my tent tonight?" 

"Really? You never…" The two of you have never shared space for more than a perfunctory few minutes after sex, and usually Astarion very much prefers it that way. But you're a drunk emotional mess and you just seem to need him and that small part of him that he keeps pushing away wants to help you. "I don't want to, gods what's the word, im-im-"

"Impose?" The way you nod silently without looking up plants a strange sensation in his chest. "Don't be silly, you're my partner aren't you? How could you be imposing?" Softly he kisses your forehead and starts toward his tent. 

As he settles you gingerly among his blankets you look around with wide eyes as though surprised to be here. "It's so red," you giggle before slowly laying back and staring at him as he gently removes your boots. 

At least you had ceased your attempt at erotic pursuits for the moment. "I'll get you some water, you need to stay up long enough to drink it." 

It only takes a few moments for him to retrieve your waterskin from your tent and return to find your eyes shut. He takes a brief second to just watch the way your chest rises and falls and the sublimely peaceful expression on your face. "Sweetheart," kneeling down next to you, he holds out the waterskin, "you need to drink some water." 

Eyes slowly open and you sit up, making a little whining noise. "Fine." Taking the waterskin, you drink most of it in one go before lying back on your side facing him. "Happy?"

Your sudden aggressive tone makes him chuckle, of course he's seen you fight, but right now you're as threatening as a lost kitten. "You'll feel better for it in the morning, I promise." 

"Mmm," already your eyes are closing again. "Lay next to me?"

The soft plea feels irresistible despite knowing he's feeding you another pretty lie and he shouldn't encourage this. If only you weren't so damnably kind to him all the time; his sweet sunny little half-elf, even from the moment you met, trying to help a stranger kill an Intellect Devourer; he wouldn’t feel so odd about everything. You’d fed him when he’d tried to bite you during your sleep, stood up for him after, protected him from the Gur, and listened to every rant and complaint with an open mind. Even during sex, you tried so hard to please him, to make him feel good too, readily experimenting with anything new, and offering up your throat time and again. The mask must have slipped a few times because once you’d very embarrassedly asked him after the act if you were a bad lover. He’d tried so hard to reassure you he was just having a bad day, afterall, it wasn’t your fault he couldn’t feel the same pleasure, but you still looked so sad for a long while afterward.

Cuddling up close to you, he wraps you both in his blankets, arms enfolding you, and can’t help but notice how perfectly you fit next to him, head tucked under his chin, like you were made to be there. Gods, what’s wrong with him? He lays a delicate kiss on the sensitive little tip of your pointed ear and you hum contendly. “Happy now, my little bit of Sunlight?” The pet name slips off his tongue, surprising even himself. 

“Does that still mean I’m irritating,” you mumble softly and he puzzles over it before remembering. 

Another moment of kindness from you. One of the first days after the Nautiloid, he’d seated himself so far away from everyone at the campfire, he was practically in the shadows when you came to sit next to him. “You can come closer to the fire Astarion, you don’t have to keep so separate.” 

“I’m fine,” he’d snapped at you, panicking that anyone was so near to him so soon after escaping Cazador’s endless cruelty. Your mouth opened to answer back and he’d cut you off. “I said I’m fine, hells, you’re as irritating as the scorching summer sunlight.” You’d backed off but not before he’d seen the hurt in your eyes. The compliment feels as though it turned to ash in his mouth at the memory, he wishes he could take that night back. There's a lot of moments from those first days he wishes the same of. 

“That was a very strange couple of days for me,” his fingers find your hair of their own accord and start brushing through it. “But no, I mean you’re bright and warm and beautiful,” and not meant for creatures like me, he adds silently. “Like Sunlight.” 

Eyes opening, you tilt your head back to look up and study him for a moment, unexpectedly lucid. “And you're as wondrous and amazing as the whole night sky full of stars, and worth any bit of darkness.” 

The words leave him stunned as you close your eyes and settle back against him. “You don’t mean that.” 

“Of course I do, my Starry Sky,” you punctuate it with a kiss on his neck before drifting back in your half-asleep state. 

There's an urge to retch and cry at the same time, what a farce he’s made of your affection. He holds you tighter, as if that could undo any of what he’s done. You deserve the truth, he knows that, but not tonight, because once you know, you'll despise him. A few more days, to soak you up, just like sunlight, and then he’ll slip back into the darkness he deserves, where there’s nothing to warm him. 

[serenbriar]

"I'll be your mirror"

"I want to know what the world sees when it looks at me. What you see."

You open your mind to Astarion, letting him see himself through the memories you've shared together since you met. You focus hardest on your favourite features of his, showing him his charming smile lines, the softness of his cupids bow, the way his silver hair curls around his pointy ears, those piercing sultry eyes, and the two subtle moles that adorn his left cheek.

"That's... That's me!" He stares at you wide eyed with disbelief, but you sense a certain sadness in his tone. His hands instinctively reach up to his own cheeks and remain there for a couple of seconds before the left trails down his neck to caress the two healed wounds punctured into his skin.

"I look so familiar, yet if I walked past myself in the city I wouldn't know it was me. That face... The red eyes, the fangs, I've never seen them and it's quite unsettling. You'd think after two hundred years I'd get used to the idea."

"Aside from the new additions, is it what you remember?"

"I.. I don't know." His voice catches. "I tried to hang on to the memories, to keep myself feeling, well, me. It's like when someone dies, after so long your memory fails you and their features become a blur, no matter how much you want to remember them. I don't even remember what colour those eyes were before they turned red."

He furrows his brow while his arms drop to his sides. A defeated sigh escapes his lips.

"Well, you've nothing to worry about. You've got a very good face."

His shoulders roll back and he lifts his chin, assuming his usual self-assured stance. "Oh darling, I knew I looked good. It's nice to have a reminder of how good." He winks, flashing a cheeky fanged smile.

Despite his wit, you can hear the gratitude in his voice while he takes your hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. "Thank you, my love."

You nudge the shattered mirror on the floor with your foot. "You won't be needing that anymore. I will be your mirror whenever you desire."

[marielle555]

Astarion is a strong character. In any case and regardless of what happened to him.

I've seen statements online like “AA fans call UA is weak” (maybe you've seen that too). Of course, this source will never run dry. They always invent something new, twist the story, distort the meaning of their opponents' statements to the point of impossibility, in general, you can't get bored. If earlier I naively thought that their “arguments” were based on lies about “Cazador 2.0”, “loss of soul” and trying to prove that “AA doesn't love Tav” (this nonsense, of course, is alive and will live forever, as long as there are those who desperately need “right messages” sent to them in the form of a sexually attractive vampire boy, but in such a way as to say that “he is happy” with the torments of hunger and in eternal darkness). Well, one must, I guess, somehow justify “I don't let him ascend” as the only right way and still remain “white-glove” at the same time.

So one should start claiming that those who help Astarion Ascend are supposedly calling UA weak. And prove that UA is strong. Well, yes, Astarion is a strong person. There's nothing to prove, he has an iron rod. The fact that he was able to survive and preserve himself, keep his mind, his personality after 200 years of slavery and torture, an internally weak person is not capable of that. How long did it take for Theon Greyjoy in Game of Thrones to be broken by Ramsay? Velioth broke Cazador, but Cazador couldn't break Astarion. Astarion survived in conditions in which a person, who has always lived in increased comfort and does not understand what reality is (who may consider Astarion's rational desire to ascend and be able to live a full life and protect himself and his beloved as “moral weakness” or “fear”) simply could not have survived. Or would have wised up quickly.

And the fact that Astarion didn't have someone around to help him see his scars during the ritual doesn't “make him weak” or change his character. It's just that after the Ascension, Astarion starts to show off that strong character of his openly, and if denied, Astarion is too depressed. “I just feel numb.” “I'll have to. But that doesn't mean I have to like it.” - Even from this line you can understand how hard it is for him, in addition to having to accept that he will never get what he longed for, that he will no longer have a full life, but instead will have to live “some half existence, hiding in the shadows for the rest of eternity”, he also has to play a role, thank Tav and make up stuff about “breaking the cycle of power and terror”. Because “I am - well, not ‘happy’ with how things turned out. But this does feel right.” Astarion has a much harder time in the UA situation than AA, but he doesn't lose his fortitude and in the epilogue he talks about looking for an opportunity to walk in the sun again. And when he finds it, there will be nothing stopping him anymore, no “heroes” around. Unless he's in a romance with Tav, because his love for Tav is really his weakness and vulnerability. Either way, Ascended or not.

It would be better for them to try to prove where Astarion's consorts are calling HIM weak. It's impossible not to see that he's feeling bad in UA's route. The inability to read (or, as usual, the intentional misrepresentation of their opponents' words) probably equates the fact that the Ascension ritual frees Astarion from physical ailments and weaknesses, the fact that Astarion is certainly made stronger (physically and magically) by the ritual, and the fact that those who help him along the way consider his “version” of the UA to be a weak and insufficiently “toxically masculine” man. As well as the “ah, they're talking bad about UA”, they “don't give UA a chance”, as if, holy shit, there really are a couple of “hot vampires” in the game, one of whom is perfectly “toxically masculine” in order to sexualize him, and the other not so much, and here's this poor sensitive guy getting berated and not given a chance. I should probably get used to this type of thinking though, I mean, they hate Astarion, if he's Ascend, and yet call themselves fans of him. When a person has a split inside into “two different people,” it's called dissociative identity disorder, and what do you call that case where they “split” the other person? I guess with such a syndrome of “Astarion's dissociative disorder” it must surely seem that those who hate Redemption Arch (as a playable feature, as a path, as a choice, just hate playing it) must dislike Astarion himself along the way and consider him weak.

Yes, Astarion himself (not his consorts) on the UA route considers himself "I'm still nothing, aren't I? Just an expandable frail spawn who will burn to a crisp soon enough", he hates what Casador did to him. "Unmaking what you made me" (Astarion's response when Casador asks him what he's doing).

Without the ritual, Astarion will forever be what Cazador did to him, it will be incorrigible, he will forever be a spawn. And says this line to Astarion then when Tav asks: “All right, what do you need?” Astarion: “I need your eyes. In a manner of speaking.” Before the ritual itself, without any attempt at persuasion, Astarion believes that Tav will help him.

And to say that we think Astarion is weak because of it - well, that's like me saying about a person with a disability, who was not allowed to be healed (for example, in a cyberpunk setting, they were not allowed to install an implant for “ethical reasons”, which not only would have healed them, but made them stronger than a healthy person) that they feel bad about their illness and with the implant they would be stronger, and a devout believer against cybernetization would claim that I was insulting that person by calling them sick and weak. I wonder who would be “sexualized” by fans of such a character, helping them heal and get an “unethical implant”? Cyborg? Why I hate the UA route, I wrote here. But Astarion himself is a beautiful and strong character, he copes even with it. And handles it the way a strong man handles it, a strong man who “just feels numb”. The only weak character I have contempt for in this version of the game playthrough is Tav, not Astarion in any way.

Astarion, who “heroically” rejects the ritual and sympathizes with those 7000 spawns, can only exist in Astarion Origins, where the player creates “their Astarion” by shaping the character's personality as they wish. There is no such Astarion in a game with Tav/DU, there is an Astarion who was denied help in a ritual. Astarion can only make one choice - wish such a Tav to die screaming (as he wishes every companion who doesn't help him) or accept it. Astarion's Choice.

Here's what Astarion thinks of these spawns he's “supposed” to sympathize with:

“These people died years ago, trust me on that. All that's left are feral spawn, desperate for blood.

If we release them, how many people will they kill? Tens of thousands? Hundreds of thousands?”

Astarion without Tav, who no one helped Ascend, won't let the caged spawns go free:

“As for those wretches in the cells - if I don't get my freedom, neither do they.”

Astarion breaks the staff and dooms the spawns in the cages out of anger, out of the pain of anger at his not being allowed true freedom, and let them suffer as well.

“But if they die and I ascend, I won't have to rely on the parasite to walk in the sun. I'll be free - truly, completely free. Isn't that what you want?”

And… The pain and doubt in his voice when he asks: “Isn't that what you want?” Astarion has one major weakness and vulnerability, and that's Tav. And not just because he really needs Tav's eyes right now and their connection through the tadpole to see his scars. Tav is the only person he loves. Tav is the best thing that has happened to him after two hundred years of torture, pain and humiliation. Perhaps this love of his, how much he loves, and how much he is attached to Tav, and how much he needs love and acceptance from Tav, is a consequence of his trauma. And his approval of that persuasion is not an approval of Tav keeping him from Ascension. It's an approval that he believed Tav's motives, he understood, why his loved one wouldn't help him. Why the one he loves so much won't let him become truly, completely free, won't help him start living a real, full life. Tav convinces him of their motives, and if he believes that they are not doing this out of malice, that it is really in their heads, in their value system, what they say is true and they believe it, then Astarion agrees to become what they believe in. With pain in his eyes and a full understanding of what he will have to sacrifice for that love and that belief. He doesn't know what a real relationship is or what true love looks like. He doesn't think he deserves better. He was used as a tool, he was tortured, no one ever cared about him, and he could only learn to survive - Astarion begins to connect with the world for the first time after two hundred years of slavery and torture. AA has a heartbreaking line, “I was trying with you, you know. In the only way I can try.” (if you reject his proposal, in a dialog three days after that, and such pain in his eyes and such an expression on his face, it's just impossible to watch).

UA has a bitter line, “I will endeavor to please” in response to Tav's cruel line, “Then don't mess it up” in the graveyard scene - he will still try to earn even the love of someone who is incapable of love.

Because he doesn't think he deserves better. He even gives some fake theatrical approval, when Tav wants to “add” Halsin to their relationship, when Astarion himself certainly doesn't need any Halsin. And he clearly feels bad about that relationship. And he agrees to have sex in a brothel because of Tav, he's experiencing PTSD, but he won't even rebuke Tav for it afterward with a single word. He'll forgive the cheating with Mizora. He will never even think about the fact that such a Tav doesn't deserve him. He thinks himself unworthy of Tav's love, he idealizes them. He won't think about the fact that the very desire for “payback” or “redemption” for a loved one is not love. That the desire to “fix” someone and “make them better” at the cost of their suffering is not love. Anti AAs very rarely mention the most important thing in their posts, much more important of course is the topic of “power”, where what “message” and how much “masculinity” is needed for their favorite “toxicity”. Hunger, sunshine, feelings “the arousals and appetites of man”, even his own reflection to see, after all, these are usually either unworthy of mention or presented as something like “challenges,” which Astarion, of course, heroically wants to take on.

The line of Persuasion for Tav looks exactly like this. “I want you to live a life you're proud of” (how I wish Tav would burn in the sun afterward and Astarion would stand there and watch it). “You can't be proud of this.” Translated as: “I don't care how you feel or how you feel, be the way I want you to be, you can consider yourself a good person for that”.

If Tav betrays and abandons the UA in the finale, he tells them, “How dare you! After all I've done for you - after everything I've sacrificed!” And what else did Astarion sacrifice for Tav except one thing - the chance to find true freedom, sunshine, and feel alive again?

UA takes Tav's attitude for love and accepts the suffering he will have to go through because of it. And behaves the way his “fixer” wants him to. He doesn't fully trust and thinks Tav might leave him, he's afraid of losing Tav and he's not sure about this relationship. AA thinks “you are degrading yourself by staying with him,” but he is happy, if Tav agrees to be his Bride and after receiving this true confirmation of an eternal bond, he starts to trust, opens up. AA suffers greatly, when Tav rejects him and this bond. That said, he expected this… It confirms his opinion of himself, that he, as he is, is not worthy of love. This goes nowhere in the case of refusing the ritual, Astarion adjusts, hides the real himself. He's more honest and frank with Tav in the non-romantic epilogue, in the romance he's silent about how he really feels about having the sunlight taken away from him again. And about how he will do anything to get that opportunity again. AA in the romantic epilogue, after 6 months with a loving consort is calm, confident and happy.

Also a very interesting “argument” - all of Astarion's problems in the Spawn state are better than the “illusory” benefits of Ascension. And everything is bad for the Ascendant, for he is “morally weak”. In general, I wonder how it is - how can concrete physiological facts be illusory?

Hunger, the sun, the reflection in the mirror, the taste of food and wine, “the arousals and appetites of man will return to him”. The benefits of Ascension are illusory, just as the sun itself, air, water, the fact that the Earth is round and revolves around the sun is illusory, as are many other things that simply exist by themselves as fact. As exist all things that exist regardless of anyone's belief or disbelief, simply because they exist. “Moral weakness” is just that, an artificially created concept, it is illusory. The very concept of morality is illusory, morality has been different in different eras (sometimes even radically different). Morality is a social construct that applies specifically to the society that accepts this particular morality, morality is a tool of management, regulation of people's behavior. Morality is simply the notions of right and wrong, good and bad, and the set of norms of behavior derived from these notions that are accepted in a particular society and at a particular time. One cannot be “morally strong” or “morally weak”, one can accept/not accept this or that form of morality, conform or not conform to this or that notion of morality. “Astarion doesn't conform to your ideas of morality” would be true, but ''morally weak'' would not. Morality doesn't exist, it's just some conventional characteristic that serves to evaluate certain things in a particular society in a particular historical period. Releasing 7000 hungry spawns is so “moral” that in terms of realism in DnD, it should have resulted in bloody chaos throughout the city. A bloody night in Baldur right after defeating the Brain, when the city is already severely weakened by the massacre with the Illithids. Perhaps there would be no Baldur, just ruins, where anarchy reigns and gangs of spawns rule. “Moral lessons” and “messages” sometimes don't mix well with realism and logical calculation of the consequences of certain player actions.

Astarion is not a dummy or a toy, to be “personality changed” by Tav. He has his own personality and his own desires. Astarion does not become “good” or “chaotic-neutral” if he was not allowed to Ascend, Astarion remains “neutral-evil” (if we give value to such a concept as alignment). It is not alignment that makes a person happy. But alignment is a convenient system to describe a character's worldview, and there are certain rules that affect a character's alignment change in DnD. In order for your action to affect your alignment change, you must have freedom of choice and decision, there must be no insurmountable circumstances that prevent your character from doing what they would like to do. The fact that Astarion basically can't Ascend on his own, unless someone helps him see his scars, makes refusing to do the ritual (or helping him do the ritual) a choice that affects Tav's alignment change, not Astarion's. If Larian wanted to show Astarion's change of alignment, there would have been an option in the game for him to Ascend without Tav's help (drawing his scars on a piece of paper, for example), and then, if Tav had convinced Astarion to refuse, or he himself, like Shadowheart, could have done it, Astarion could have changed his alignment. It's especially funny to read the “arguments” that since Astarion didn't redraw his scars, when Tav drew them in the sand, that means he didn't want to Ascend. They would have made up their minds - whether they revitalize the character to such an extent, that he himself “off-screen” decides, what to do in the story, or whether the main thing is the “message” and what the authors wanted to say (I have only one opinion on this - it doesn't matter who “wanted to say” what, but what is important is what is really said and shown in the story of the game). In this case, Larian most likely wanted to make an “arch of redemption” for Astarion (which could be combined with his past as a corrupt magistrate from EA and possibly look like “payback” for his past sins). Whether by choice or due to the demands of those back in the EA, who wrote to them demanding they “fix Astarion”, it doesn't matter so much anymore. And as a romance bubblegum for players, who play just to have fun, and they need a sexy male companion for a romance, they won't pay too much attention to his well-being, emotions and will calmly eat up the “bittersweet” ending as a good one, if they're told so, this story arc also fits very well. That said, this storyline fits logically with the evil companion's poorly completed quest (for the world “good”, for him “bad but not fatal”) and doesn't break the character's IP. A logical commercial move - after all, the romance of Ascended Astarion is unique and unusual, it's not “mass-market”, and besides, whining about morality in games, “evil is wrong”, etc. has been in vogue lately, we all know that, and creating an evil character without “moral options” to “fix” him might not have been a very good decision in terms of taking into account the subsequent network hysterics about him. And in order to make the “redemption arc” possible and logically plot-wise fitting with Astarion's character without violating his IP, the best option was to take away his ability to make his own choices, leaving him with only the option to accept this “redemption” or leave the group. This blends with his story (his scars) and gives additional story beauty to the romance of the Ascended, when his beloved becomes his eyes and they go through this ritual together (“I did. We did”).

Astarion's ”strength of personality“ does not depend on whether he has undergone the ritual or not. Astarion always remains himself. It's just that in one case he is “with all the masks, lies and deception still included” and in the other “no masks, no lies, just the truth because he has the confidence to push his arrogance in your face without fear”. Helping him in the ritual or refusing to help him characterizes Tav, not Astarion.

[pixel7777]

The First Worshipper: Ch. 2

This incredible artwork was commissioned from the wonderful misfitlunatic - I highly recommend checking out their other works (https://x.com/misfit_lunatik or https://bsky.app/profile/misfitlunatik.bsky.social)

✨💔 "Seventeen years is a long time to grieve, but vengeance lingers longer still. As Astarion methodically unravels the web of conspiracies behind Tav’s death, old wounds reopen, and justice feels colder than he imagined. When gods cannot interfere, and ghosts refuse to return, what is left for a man who has everything—except those he truly loved?" 💔✨

Read below the break here or on AO3!

Chapter 2

17 years AB

My vicious love,

You'll be pleased to know I finally found the wretch responsible for Mol's death. A slash across the throat—nothing dramatic, I'm afraid. Though I did take my time ensuring he felt every moment. I wanted him to understand exactly what he'd taken from me. From us.

Mol's successor (who of course hired the wretch to clear their way) won't be an issue anymore either. Amazing how easily evidence can be planted when one knows the players so well. The Guild will tear itself apart trying to root out the "betrayal." Quite fitting, don't you think? Let them destroy each other—saves me the trouble.

I should feel... something. Satisfaction? Relief? Instead, I'm sitting in our empty house, writing another letter I'll burn, while Mol's footsteps no longer echo in the halls.

What am I supposed to do now? I have wealth, power, immortality—everything I ever wanted. Yet here I am, pathetically alone with all of it. The parties bore me. The scheming exhausts me. Even the hunt has lost its thrill.

You'd know what to say. You'd push me toward some noble cause or tell me to "find myself" or whatever mortals do when they're lost. But you're not here to give advice, are you? And Mol's not here to distract me with her latest scheme or demand my attention or make me feel needed.

I'm free. Completely, utterly free.

And I hate it.

Yours eternally,

(quite literally, it seems)

Astarion

* * *

The empty house echoed with my footsteps as I paced the marble floors. Sixteen times. Sixteen failed attempts to bring her back. This would be the seventeenth, only weeks after Mol's death.  The priest waited in what used to be our bedroom, arranging components worth a small fortune in a precise circle.

I'd memorized the ritual by now—knew exactly when he'd turn to me, expectant, waiting for me to speak the words that might call her soul back. What could I possibly say that I hadn't already tried?

My fingers found the small bottle of Tav's perfume in my pocket. One drop remained, preserved through the years. I'd considered using it as a focus for the ritual, but I couldn't bear to part with it. Pathetic, really.

"We're ready, my lord."

I turned. The priest stood in the doorway, his expression carefully neutral. Of course—I was paying him enough to resurrect a small army. He didn't care if it worked. (Fuck him, for that.) (I take it back - just let this work.)

The bedroom looked wrong without our things. No books scattered on her side of the bed, no clothes draped over chairs, no half-empty wine glasses on the nightstand. Just bare walls and that damned circle on the floor, components worth more than most nobles' yearly income arranged in perfect symmetry.

My rehearsed speeches felt hollow now. I'd tried reason ("The world still needs you"), guilt ("You left me alone"), even begging ("Please, darling, just come back"). Nothing worked. Tav's soul remained stubbornly beyond reach, leaving me here in this empty house, trying to fill it with words that meant nothing.

The priest began the incantation. Soon, he'd look to me for those crucial words.

What hadn't I said? What could possibly make a difference this time?

The moment arrived before I was ready for it. (I was never ready for it.)

"Darling," I whispered, my voice cracking. "I can't do this anymore. Not without you. Not without Mol." My fingers traced the edge of the ritual circle. "I know why you won't come back. You're waiting somewhere, for us to be together forever there... but it's somewhere I can't follow."

The priest's chanting grew louder, but I barely heard him over the rushing in my ears.

"Come back. Just for a moment. We can worship Gale together—isn't that amusing? Me, playing at devotion." I pressed my palm against the cold floor. "And next time... next time when it's my turn, I'll know where to find you. We can be together again."

The components flickered with magical energy. The priest's voice reached its crescendo.

Nothing.

No response. No familiar presence. No warmth.

My legs gave out, and I slid to the floor, the marble cool against my cheek. The priest's footsteps retreated—smart man, leaving me to my grief.

I curled in on myself, still clutching that tiny bottle of perfume. One drop left. One piece of her, preserved in glass, while everything else slipped away.

A chill crept through the room, one I hadn't felt in years, but I recognized it immediately. I spun to find Withers materializing near the ritual circle. For a moment, hope flared in my chest—wild, desperate hope. If anyone knew the secrets of death, it was him.

"Old friend." I pulled myself to my feet, forcing a smile. "Have you come to tell me what I'm doing wrong? What component I'm missing?"

Withers regarded me with those shriveled eye sockets. "You do nothing wrong, Spawn of Night. The fault lies not in your ritual, but in your understanding."

"Then explain it to me." My voice cracked. "Tell me how to reach her."

"She will not return." Each word fell like a stone. "She chooses not to. Her reasons are her own."

The hope in my chest twisted into something ugly. "You're lying. She wouldn't—she couldn't—"

"The dead are not yours to keep," Withers continued, unmoved. "Nor are they yours to chase. Love them for the moments they gave you. That is all the dead ask."

I stood before the hunched figure, my patience fraying with each cryptic response. "For once in your existence, could you not speak in riddles?" My voice dripped acid. "After everything we've been through, everything I've done to save this wretched place, surely you can dispense with the mysterious guardian act."

Withers remained motionless, those awful sockets fixed on me with their unsettling weight. When he didn't respond, I raked my fingers through my hair, pacing like a caged animal.

"There must be something else. Some ritual I haven't tried, some price I haven't offered." I whirled back to face him. "Name it. Whatever it is, I'll pay it."

But he only repeated his earlier words about acceptance and letting go, each mystical platitude stoking the rage building in my chest. I slammed my palm against the stone wall, welcoming the sharp sting of pain.

"Damn you," I snarled. "Damn you and your meaningless prophecies. What's the point of all this power if you won't use it to help? You, Gale, the gods are useless!"

Something snapped inside me. With a snarl, I lunged at him, fangs bared. My hands passed through his form like smoke. Again and again, I struck out, each blow meeting nothing but air.

"Bring her back!" I screamed, my attacks growing wilder, more desperate. "Make her come back!"

Withers stood motionless, watching my futile assault with the same patience he'd shown since we first found him in his tomb.

Divine light flared, and suddenly Gale's arms locked around me, pulling me back from my useless assault on Withers. The ancient guardian dissolved into shadows without a word, leaving me thrashing against my friend's immortal strength.

"Let me go!" I snarled, but Gale only held tighter.

"Not until you calm down."

The fight drained from me all at once, leaving nothing but hollow grief. My legs buckled, and Gale lowered us both to the floor. Tears I thought I'd exhausted years ago spilled hot down my cool cheeks. (How did that work? Was rage literally hot?)

Gale's divine presence wrapped around me like a blanket I didn't want but desperately needed. My fingers unclenched, the fight draining from me as suddenly as it had come.

"I hate you," I muttered into his shoulder. "Appearing like this. Playing the caring god."

"I know." His voice held centuries of patience. Of course it did—he was a god now. (When had that happened? When had my irritating friend become this steady anchor in my storms?)

"I tried everything." The words spilled out, raw and messy. "Components worth fortunes. Priests from every temple. Even that bastard Withers—" My voice cracked. "And where were you?"

"Right here." His hand squeezed my shoulder. "Where I've always been."

I wanted to mock him for that. To throw his pointless, useless divinity in his face. But the warmth of his presence—so different from my cold skin—made me pause. He was here, wasn't he? Breaking whatever cosmic rules governed young gods just to hold his grieving lunatic of a friend.

"You're absolutely dreadful at being a proper deity," I said instead. "Shouldn't you be... I don't know, arranging stars? Creating new forms of magic?" (Don't leave.)

"Probably." His chuckle resonated with divine energy. "But I thought my first worshipper needed me more."

The title hit differently now. First worshipper. I'd meant it as a joke, a way to keep my friend close while annoying him in the process. But here he was, answering my unspoken prayers, catching me when I fell apart.

"Why?" I choked out. "Why won't she come back? You're a god now—tell me why."

Gale's embrace tightened. "I wish I knew. Withers refuses to speak to me about Tav. None of the other gods will admit to having her soul. Death... death has its own rules."

"Then what good are you?" The words came out broken, desperate. "Please. You're the God of Ambition—give me something. A purpose. A goal. Anything."

"That's not how it works." His voice was gentle, infuriatingly so. "I can help people achieve their ambitions, but I can't choose them. And right now, I can barely do anything. Ao keeps new gods on a short leash. All I can tell you is to take the advice Withers came to give you.  Let her go."

I laughed, bitter and sharp. "Oh, that's rich. The God of Ambition telling me to abandon my only ambition." I pulled away from his embrace, wiping my face with my sleeve. "Some god you turned out to be."

"You need to find something new," Gale said, leaning forward in that earnest way of his that always made me want to slap him. "An ambition that will carry you forward, not keep you chained to what's behind you."

I let out a bark of harsh laughter. "And what would you suggest? Everything I wanted - everything I built - it's meaningless now. Do you know what it's like to walk through those empty rooms? To see their things gathering dust? To know that stupid little thief will never again try to pick my pocket just to prove she can and Tav won't be there to scold her afterwards?" My voice cracked on the last words, and I hated myself for it.

"You still have so much, my friend," Gale said softly, reaching out to place his hand on my shoulder. "The Brats still need you. The city still needs you. And you have friends who—"

"Don't." I jerked away from his touch. "Don't pretend any of that matters. Everything I used to want tastes like ash in my mouth. They have been taken from me - both of them - and nothing tastes sweet anymore. Nothing feels real." I wrapped my arms around myself, fighting the trembling in my hands. "What's the point of having 'so much' when the only things I truly wanted were stolen away?"

I pulled away from Gale, smoothing my shirt with practiced nonchalance. A new purpose bloomed in my mind, dark and familiar. (Like coming home to an old friend, isn't it? The sweet call of vengeance.)

"You know what? You're right." I flashed him my most disarming smile. "Perhaps it's time to focus on more... constructive pursuits."

Gale's divine aura flickered—he'd caught the abrupt change in my demeanor. (Of course he did. Bastard always could read me. And I didn't have much subtlety to offer in this moment.) His expression grew wary, and I couldn't blame him. He'd seen this look before, usually right before I did something spectacularly ill-advised.

"Astarion—"

"Don't worry, darling." I waved away his concern. "It's obvious, really.  Can't think of why it didn't occur to me before. I'm thinking of throwing myself into religious devotion. Building you a proper church, perhaps? Something gaudy and pretentious—really capture your essence." (And give me the perfect cover for gathering information.)

His face contorted in horror. "Please don't."

"Oh, but I insist." I grinned, genuine amusement bubbling up at his distress. "Think of it—'The Grand Temple of Gale, God of Dead End Ambitions.' We'll have weekly services where I dramatically recount your most embarrassing moments." (While my agents trace old leads, follow forgotten trails.)

"That's not—" He pinched the bridge of his nose, divinity crackling around him in frustration. "That's not what my worship should be about."

"Then you should have picked a better first worshipper." I headed for the door, plans already forming. (Start with the Harper records. Someone must have noticed something.) "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some architectural studies to pursue."

"You're planning something." It wasn't a question.

I paused at the threshold, throwing him a look over my shoulder. "I'm always planning something. And I never tell you. It's practically tradition by now."

"Astarion—"

"Prayers later, darling. Your devoted servant has work to do." (And old debts to collect.)

* * *

From his divine vantage point in the celestial plane, Gale observed Astarion prowling through the darkened streets of Baldur's Gate, following a trail of whispers and bribes that led straight to a bitter truth. The pieces were falling into place - not about Mol's death, but about Tav's.

Gale had been impressed when Astarion had resisted pursuing his own revenge after the official investigations into Tav's death had been closed without any actual closure.  Astarion had stayed devoted to Mol and her well-being, refused to do anything that would distract from his attempt to console and nurture her.  But it appeared that with Mol gone and her death avenged, Astarion had chosen to revisit the older loss.

Perhaps I shouldn't have suggested he find a new ambition in that particular moment.

Gale had to admit he had also wanted to know what had actually happened, but he had resisted prying, especially in those earliest days when he was counseled to relinquish attention to matters from his old life.  He had…backslid, considerably, since then.

Rage built in Gale's chest as he watched his friend piece together the evidence. A letter here, a confession there. The spawn Astarion had freed, had given a second chance, had trusted to build better lives - some of them had turned that freedom into a weapon of revenge.

"Damn them," Gale muttered, his divine voice echoing across the celestial plane. The sound startled a few minor deities, but he paid them no mind.

What choice had Astarion had? Cazador's influence had reached far, touched countless lives. Astarion had been as much a victim as any of them. He'd been the one brave enough to break free, to help others break free. And then...

Gale's fists clenched as he watched Astarion corner a nervous-looking half-elf spawn in an alley. The spawn's hands shook as he admitted what he knew - how a group of the freed spawn had plotted their revenge, had waited years to strike at what Astarion loved most.

The spawn dropped to his knees, begging forgiveness, claiming he'd only heard about it after the fact. But Gale could see the darkness spreading across Astarion's features, the careful control he'd built over decades cracking under the weight of this revelation.

"Don't," Gale whispered, knowing Astarion couldn't hear him. "Don't let them drag you back into that cycle."

But he could already see it happening - the way Astarion's fingers twitched toward his daggers, the predatory stillness settling over him. The same violence that had claimed Tav was about to claim more victims, and Astarion would be the instrument of it this time.

Gale wanted to reach through the veil between planes, to grab his friend's shoulder and pull him back from this precipice. But Ao's restrictions held firm, keeping him from direct intervention. All he could do was watch as Astarion stepped closer to the trembling spawn, murder written in every line of his body.

From his celestial perch, Gale watched the scene unfold with mounting frustration. Just pray to me, you stubborn fool. Give me something real to work with.

But no. The only prayers that had crossed the divine threshold lately were nonsense like "Oh great and mighty Gale, patron of bad decisions, please ensure Lady Fairweather's new hat clashes spectacularly with her complexion at tomorrow's garden party."

Gale paced the ethereal plane, his divine form casting fractured shadows across realities. The irony cut deep - as a mortal, he could have at least put a hand on Astarion's shoulder, bought him a drink, reminded him there were better paths than vengeance. Now, bound by divine restrictions, he could only observe.

I shouldn't even be watching this closely. There were potential worshippers to court, divine politics to navigate, an entire portfolio of ambition to define. Yet here he was, fixated on one vampire in one city, unable to tear his attention away.

Astarion's blade pressed against the spawn's throat, and Gale held his breath - a remarkably mortal reaction for a god. But then Astarion's expression shifted, something calculated replacing the raw fury. The blade withdrew, and before the spawn could react, Astarion's fist connected with his temple. The half-elf crumpled.

Well, that's... unexpected. Gale leaned forward, intrigued. He recognized that look on Astarion's face—the one that meant pieces were falling into place in that clever mind of his. He's hunting for names. Building a web.

As Astarion efficiently bound the unconscious spawn, Gale felt an inappropriate surge of pride. Even in this dark moment, his friend had chosen the strategic path over the satisfaction of immediate bloodletting. Though knowing Astarion, that might actually be worse for his targets in the long run.

Gale watched Astarion drag the unconscious spawn into a nearby warehouse. The efficiency of the movement, the careful way he secured the prisoner - it spoke of plans within plans.

A prayer flickered across the divine plane, but it was another of those theatrical performances about wine selections and fashion disasters that Astarion encouraged in those he recruited as Gale's worshippers. Gale dismissed it with a wave. These prayers were starting to feel like deliberate distractions, each one more outlandish than the last.

The warehouse scene unfolded below. Astarion worked methodically, setting up what looked like an improvised interrogation space. The spawn stirred, and Astarion's questioning began. No violence, just quiet words and careful implications. Names emerged, locations, dates - a web of conspiracy spanning years. Gale's divine consciousness expanded with understanding. Tav's murder had been organized, patient, deliberate.

Gale's divine form flickered with anger. He'd attended Tav's funeral, had watched Astarion maintain that rigid composure throughout the ceremony. There was a very insistent part of Gale that wanted to punish those who had taken Tav and wounded Astarion with such unjust, cold, calculation, to punish in the way that only a god could do—and to take that burden from Astarion in the bargain.

But there was nothing he could do. Avenging his mortal pain would cross a line Ao would not forgive. He could only watch as Astarion built his list of targets, each name another link in a chain of vengeance that would either save or damn him.

A minor deity coughed politely to get his attention. "My lord, about the Council..."

"Yes, fine." Gale forced his attention away from the mortal plane. He had responsibilities now, a divine role to establish. He couldn't spend eternity watching over one vampire's quest for revenge.

But as he turned to follow the minor deity, he caught one last glimpse of Astarion's face - and the ruthlessness there chilled even his divine soul.

[justporo]

Still more fluffy relationship headcanons for Astarion and Tav

You guys seem to really like these, so I'm keeping them going for as long as I can. And - I know I said I couldn't do requests atm - but when (if?) I run out of ideas how about you can send me prompts for headcanons on specific topics?

Here we go though, more small ideas and moments for these two idiots!

Astarion is a tease, always flirting with you (for the most part), always kissing you or touching you, always whispering something dirty directly into your pointy ear; sometimes even doing that flat out while you're out in public... with people around.

Deep down he's always wondering though when the day will come that you don't want to be with him anymore; you know that and you try your absolute best to remind him every moment of every day that you want to be with him forever, slowly working to turn the "when" into an "if" and then making him forget altogether

You are basically a street cat, but Astarion? He's a man of culture! And he loves to take you out and frankly just goddamn educating you

He takes you to museums, telling you in incredible detail about the artworks and the displays because he knows his history, also - he's incredibly smart; you enjoy not only him enjoying himself talking about stuff he likes but also just eat it up, eager to learn about stuff you never had the chance to before

Dancing: That's another thing. He knows all the dances: from the silly court dances Wyll showed you once, to the much more interesting and intimate ones where you're flush against one another's bodies

He teaches you, being so close to him, you can't stop fawning, holding you like you're something incredibly fragile and precious while moving you ever so passionately

You've never done this and are incredibly insecure at the beginning, but "Don't worry, love, let me hold you and I'll guide you, you just look pretty" - but then you pick it up quickly and it becomes one of your favourite pastimes with him

You have artful skills of your own though: since you're a former thief and had to stake out targets and places sometimes for weeks on end, you had a lot of time on your hands and taught yourself to draw a long time ago and drew whatever you had to observe: a nice compromise between keeping your eyes on whatever mattered and still having something to do

So, you finally draw him, something you'd promised him a long time ago when you merely had started travelling together; you spend a whole night just to get the first portrait right and Astarion gets uneasy because can't you just let him have a little sneak-peek?

When you show him the drawing, he's just speechless - "What, even more magnificent than you remembered?" you tease him, but you see how his fingers are tensing holding the paper and there's a single tear on his cheek when he looks and smiles at you broadly "No, love, just flustered about how you don't seem to get my chin right"; you call him a liar softly and he sniffles and draws you in for a really long hug and he thanks you deeply

Ah, I also love using these to sneak in facts and ideas for my Tav and helping me flesh out a backstory and more details for their story and relationship. Also don't mind me sprinkling a little angst on there.

Of course, the drawing idea has been imagined many times before and rightfully so, Astarion deserves it. But it's... I haven't drawn really in a loooong time but he really makes me want to give a portrait ago. I had to get it out for personal reasons.

[mona-risms]

K so I manifested an Idea. Vampire (not spawn, not ascendant just vampire) Reader x Werewolf Selune Shadowheart

My idea was more imagine R is there instead of The Spawn ™

R is obviously not a damned racist or a pompous ass but still morally grey with a similar style of humor (gotta embody the bloodlust ™) but after the story is said and done and shadowheart is free from shar instead of going streaking in the pool they relive the first romance scene interaction but instead they actually fuck in the woods. Your typical Vampire x Werewolf PredPrey & Bloodplay type fuck ensues

Any takers?

◆ MAIN COURSE: sub!werewolf!Selûnite!Shadowheart x dom!vampire!Reader

◆ TYPE: NSFW, romantic

◆ ALLERGEN WARNINGS: Predator/prey kink, scent kink (?), bloodplay

◆ NOTES: ME I'LL TAKE IT!!!!! Much as the content warnings seem otherwise, this isn't a darkfic hello god 😭. Also ngl I think I just ended up flat-out making Reader Astarion 2.0 but without the background 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️ enjoy LOL

Idk about whether you fully meant the whole campaign's finished or you wanted this set on the moment she invites you out for a dip, but like I choose the FORMER bc ougghfhg it's so sweet they're so sweet I LOVE SHADOWHEART!!!! And I'm guessing in place of Astarion ohhhh *rubs hands* (love Neil though)

IT'S SO BITTERSWEET cuz ending the Netherbrain = killing off the tadpoles and therefore no longer granting you access to the fucking SUN so you're standing amongst your companions, basking in your victory (as horrendously cheesy it is for you, to the point it makes your skin crawl upon realisation) before you feel the first pinpricks of literal fucking SUN DAMAGE

You have to RUN to shade, not even getting any time to notify anyone, least of all Shadowheart. But it's not like any of them are unaware of the reason why—not with the burning flesh in the air holy fuck—but it's just a bit sad since 🤷‍♀️ you can't see the sun anymore

It is only at night that you meet up again, partly bc the others wanna celebrate for a campaign well-done, but also partly bc it's not as if you could meet up with them at any other time of day. The party's set where the Act 1 celebration's set asw for the sake of looking back on how far you've actually come, so :(

But strangely enough, you're not there? Where did you go?? The wine might taste like shit unless someone's picked out the good ones, but it's not like you to be seen NOT skulking around everywhere, all miserable

It's fine though, Shadowheart knows where you are :3c

You register familiar footsteps first before you register her voice.

"I thought I might find you here."

You don't need to turn around from the edge that you've been sat on for a while now—you already know who it is, and by now, you've long since registered that she is in no means a direct threat to you.. usually.

So you placed your goblet down on the ground beside you and you recline, leaning on the palms of your hands as you watched the moon, "Really, now? What gave it away?"

"I can scent you out, remember?"

"Ah, right," came the sardonic reply, "do forgive me, my brain is still getting accustomed to not having an active host inside it. Might be a little slow from the sudden loss, see."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," the Selûnite rolled her eyes as she bent and settled down beside you, "were my eyes deceiving us all when we saw you fighting the Netherbrain?"

"Yes," you hissed out lightly, holding no venom in your words, "you know how much I detest heroism, especially when all we get in return is.. what, some shoddy party and cheap alcohol?"

She quirked an eyebrow, "You don't mean that."

"..."

She knew you didn't, she's known you for far too long and far too much to think otherwise.

"..I do."

"No, you don't."

"Ugh, fine. ..I suppose the wine tastes.. adequate this time."

Shadowheart sported a victorious grin on her lips—an expression that looks much lighter, and dare you even say softer, in comparison to when the two of you first sat here—before it is covered by the goblet of wine, though the crinkle on the corner of her eyes was unmistakable.

Though she lowers her goblet slightly just to take one more light jab, "Much better than your preferred sort of viscous finery, then?"

"Certainly much better than yours, mutt."

"Now I know you're lying, fangs."

And then the two of you just chill there, away from the fanfare. Are the both of you in a celebratory mood? Sure, but for Shadowheart's part, she'd much rather sit in this moment with you and bask in the intimacy

But you didn't come for the fluff did you lol

"You making up for lost time, Shadowheart?"

"Hm?"

"You seem to be entranced by the moon." You flashed your fangs in a teasing smirk, "are your instincts calling to you or is my presence so boring, now that we're away from mortal peril?"

She rolled her eyes as she jabbed her elbow onto your side lightly, "I'm not some beast who can't keep her claws to herself, unlike you. Remember when you--"

"--tried to drink your blood and you held me down as a result, yes, yes, I know how the story goes," you waved it off with a scoff. When you continue, you shuffle closer to lean onto your lover's side, "So? What are you thinking about?"

"I'm not sure whether this is something to share with you, of all people."

A scandalised gasp, "What? Do you not trust your own beloved? I'll have you know I'm the most trustworthy person there is!"

"You are a lot of things, but trustworthy? Even a Sharran would raise an eyebrow. ..Ah, fine." And she leans into to whisper—an unneeded gesture, considering your vampiric senses, yet you forget such semantics when she nips at your ear. "A vampire and a werewolf, both under Selûne's light. Who comes out on top, hm?"

Your lips stretch and your teeth bare themselves before you can stop it, and when you look at Shadowheart, you realise you've just started playing into her hand.

"Oh, you are unfair," you leaned in to her neck and inhaled her scent; night orchids mixed with a tinge of wolf musk and the sweet scent of the blood pumping through her body.

But she immediately pulls herself away, hauls herself up and backs off with a smirk, "'Unfair' would be if only one of us was beastly."

A blink, and she's disappeared into the woods. But her voice still rings in your head thanks to your enhanced senses:

"Come find me, lover, or I'll find you first."

THERE WE GO ong I was struggling to find how to actually get to it

NOW it's a chase between the three of you. Shadowheart wouldn't shift, because even if she knew for a FACT that this was going to end in no other way but the both of you without clothes on as you Gallivant in the woods, ain't no WAYYYYY was she ripping up her clothes when you are no longer in a 'desperate times' ahh situation. HOWEVER she would 100% use her werewolf senses to her advantage, or to at least even out the odds

This would also be her fully embracing what she is I think after being free from Shar's influence. After fearing wolves (and especially herself probably) for so long, now she's using her abilities to its full potential and feeling comfortable with doing so instead of hating herself for it

Within the forest is a cat and mouse game between the two of you, except both of you are the cat and the mouse. Especially for Shadowheart's case, even though she knew it'll end up with her getting her ass handed to her in more ways than one 🤷‍♀️ but challenging you and your authority has always been a favourite past time of hers that grew from your dynamic, the little brat

Close call after close call, taunt after taunt, chase after chase, and then eventually? You catch up to her and pounce from behind, pinning her down

PERSONAL HEADCANON that makes sense: while they have supernatural abilities, werewolves are built more on strength and durability, while vampires are gifted with speed and stealth. This makes things JUICIER bc then that means even if Shadowheart isn't at 100% rn, she's blatantly 'struggling' underneath you on purpose—she has no intention of actually getting away from you, just moving enough that she gives you a challenge and has you pushing her further into the grass

From then on call it the medieval highway to Sin City because JESUS CHRIST the sex is ROUGH. Both of you are in shambles and so are your clothes as it is either thrown to the side, just left in the midst of giving up in trying to take it off, or flat out just. Shredded by either one of you's claws. Or teeth. Who knows

Shadowheart leaning more into her wolf side, to being more free with herself, has her acting significantly less dignified. And we all KNOW she's FREAKY as hell anyway, now think about that being significantly much more intense. Biting a lot more, scratching, growling, etc. This is her mate we're talking about—though she'd absolutely correct you and say that no way in hells would she use that term and be 'primitive' when referring to you LOL—so there's that primal instinct in her to mark as much as possible

Before Act 3 she'd probably moreso coax you into putting your lips onto her neck and actually biting you, like a gentle practice that has her gasping and slowly pushing you away while in a daze. Now? OH WOW. Her hand darts to your head and pulls you into her neck and growls at you to fucking drink and really show her if vampiric dominance is more than just some mind control bs or what. She grits her teeth—sharper now—as her nails dig into your scalp as she practically whines and grinds her cunt on your thigh while you drain her. And when you're done? She pulls you back in for a messy tongued kiss to taste the metallic tang of her own blood before commenting on how you can even deal with that taste (chalk it up to an acquired taste?)

Doesn't matter if you're in the middle of the fucking woods, fuck her left, right, and centre until both of you are exhausted and/or one of you passes out

Much as Shadowheart likes to test you constantly, eventually she turns into a MESS, especially with the amount of blood drawn out from her as you rightfully consume your prey. She'd end up going delirious as you switch from eating her out and drinking her blood and leaving a mess

You can see when Shadowheart's tittering on the edge of consciousness.

What was once a strong grip on your scalp became something you could easily shrug off, even without your boosted strength. What was once a teasing string of breathy taunts turned into slurs of something coherent. And when you look up as you suck her clit, what was once a focused gaze glazed into something much more airy and unfocused.

Before, she would've refused to let down her guard like this. Now, she can't even decide what she wants for herself; her whimpers are desperste, her hands unsure whether to push you away or pull you in deeper, and her thighs shake unsteadily as she drips down your chin while forcing herself to keep standing against the tree bark.

A sob quickly transitions into a plea from the Selûnite—a rare concession of power from her, despite knowing your dynamics well—and yet you won't stop.

How could you?

Your prey tastes much too sweet for you to do so, especially after a hunt.

She ends up passing out even with better regeneration lmfao

Halsin probably warns everyone to leave the two of you alone HAHAHAAHHA

[moonselune]

If possible, could we get something with Wyll, Gale, and Astarion with a Tav who has a hard time sleeping due to overthinking? It's the dead of night, and when they ask Tav why they can't sleep, Tav just hits them with "I'm afraid I'll wake up and you won't love me anymore"

Also remember to drink water ^^

Drink water folks not alcohol ! (hides glass of fizz I'm currently drinking whilst writing this)

Wyll:

The camp was quiet, the only sounds being the crackling of the dying fire and the distant hooting of an owl. Wyll lay beside you, his arm draped protectively over your waist. You stared at the stars, your mind racing with a torrent of thoughts. Despite your best efforts, sleep eluded you. Wyll shifted slightly, sensing your restlessness.

"Can't sleep?" he murmured, his voice a soft rumble in the stillness.

You sighed, turning to face him, the worry evident in your eyes. "No, I can't. My mind won't stop," you admitted, feeling a lump in your throat.

He propped himself up on one elbow, concern etched on his face. "What's troubling you, love?" he asked gently, his hand brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

Taking a deep breath, you hesitated before finally confessing, "I'm afraid I'll wake up and you won't love me anymore."

Wyll's eyes widened, a look of profound sadness crossing his features. "Oh, my heart," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Why would you ever think that?"

Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to find the words. "I… I don't know. I guess I'm just scared that one day you'll realize I'm not good enough," you confessed, your voice trembling.

He pulled you into a tight embrace, his warmth enveloping you. "Listen to me," he said, his voice firm yet tender. "You are more than enough. My love for you is unwavering. Nothing will ever change that."

You clung to him, his words soothing your frayed nerves. "Thank you, Wyll," you whispered, feeling a weight lift from your chest.

He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering. "We'll get through this together," he promised. "Now, try to rest. I'll be right here, watching over you."

Gale:

The camp was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, the fire reduced to glowing embers. Gale sat beside you, reading a book by the light of a small magical orb. You lay next to him, staring up at the canopy of trees, your mind a whirlpool of anxiety. Sighing heavily, you shifted, trying to find a comfortable position.

Gale glanced at you, his brow furrowing with concern. "Is something keeping you awake, my love?" he asked, closing his book and giving you his full attention.

You turned to face him, your eyes reflecting your inner turmoil. "I can't stop thinking," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

He reached out, gently taking your hand in his. "Tell me what's on your mind," he encouraged, his tone soothing.

You hesitated, then took a deep breath. "I'm afraid I'll wake up and you won't love me anymore," you confessed, feeling vulnerable and exposed.

Gale's eyes widened in surprise, a look of confusion crossing his face. "Why would you think such a thing?" he asked, genuinely puzzled. "My love for you is as constant as the stars in the sky."

You shrugged, feeling a lump form in your throat. "I don't know. I guess I'm just scared that one day you'll realize you deserve better," you admitted, your voice shaking.

He squeezed your hand, his expression softening. "You are everything I've ever wanted and more," he said earnestly. "My love for you is unshakable. Please, don't doubt that."

You felt a wave of relief wash over you at his words. "Thank you, Gale," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "Let's try to get some rest," he said softly. "We'll face tomorrow together."

Astarion:

The night was still, the campfire reduced to glowing embers. Astarion lay beside you, his eyes closed but his senses alert. You tossed and turned, unable to quiet the racing thoughts in your mind. With a frustrated sigh, you sat up, hugging your knees to your chest.

Astarion's eyes opened, glinting with curiosity. "Can't sleep, my dear?" he asked, his voice laced with playful frustration.

You glanced at him, your anxiety evident. "No, I can't," you admitted. "My mind won't stop overthinking."

He propped himself up on one elbow, his gaze fixed on you. "And what, pray tell, is keeping you awake at this ungodly hour?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his tone.

Taking a deep breath, you hesitated before finally confessing, "I'm afraid I'll wake up and you won't love me anymore."

Astarion's expression shifted from amusement to playful frustration. "Oh, for the love of… You really think I'd be that capricious?" he asked, shaking his head. "You are being utterly ridiculous, my sweet."

You looked down, feeling a mix of embarrassment and anxiety. "I guess I'm just scared," you admitted softly. "Scared that one day you'll realize you deserve better."

Astarion reached out, gently lifting your chin so your eyes met his. "Listen to me," he said, his voice taking on a serious tone. "I chose you for a reason. You are captivating, charming, and utterly irreplaceable. Don't be so foolish as to doubt my feelings for you."

A small smile tugged at your lips, his words easing your fears. "Thank you, Astarion," you whispered, feeling a warmth spread through your chest.

He rolled his eyes playfully, but there was a genuine warmth in his gaze. "Now, can we please get some sleep?" he teased. "I promise I'll still be here in the morning, loving you just as fiercely."

You laughed softly, the tension melting away. "Alright," you agreed, lying back down beside him. "Goodnight, Astarion."

"Goodnight, my love," he murmured, pulling you close and wrapping his arms around you. "Sleep well."

I just wanna hug and smooch them all, hope you enjoyed this! - Seluney xox

[tellmeallaboutit]

favorite Raphael fics

There are a lot of Raphael fic rec lists out there, I'll concentrate on my own niche of Raphael: dark!Raphael and related as I think this is what the audience of this blog mostly interested in.

Please note that the works listed below are a warning tag minefield, explicit and meant for mature audiences only. Also, all of them are F!Tav or AFAB!Tav.

to even the odds by @dodorimo // generally, check all dodo's works (all the little things with Astarion is also amazing) if you like my stuff, because we are very much into the same topics.

Forfeit by @deardarlingdevil // wonderful smut. The author really nailed down the psychology of a sadistic and a depraved man in bed.

Six Hours by @aladaylessecondblog // I liked this one for Tav actively NOT liking Raphael for all the right reasons. Felt like a very believable reaction of a cleric in the world to a devil.

Cheerful Oblivion by @sassyandsodone // this one is a very well-done realistic take on what it really means to be a devil's mindless loving doll.

The Devil's Own by @gatewarden108 // this one has all the favourite tropes: forced impregnation, captivity, isolation, mind break. Also, a finished long WIP which is a unicorn by itself.

Until We Bleed and Ecstasy by @theemptyislost // very much recommend this one with Haarlep as a key component in Tav / Dark!Raphael relationship.

Roses and Peppers by distorsie // this one is just lovely. The rare breed of poetic Dark!Raphael.

indulgences and debasement by @pouralaura // I don't think this Raphael is dark per se, but he is deliciously depraved and debauched. Besides, the author has a wonderful writing style from a technical perspective.

The Devil Inside by @littleplasticrat // this one is also very Haarlep-heavy, features also Tav x Dammon, and it's... it's as dirty as it gets. Being Raphael's warlock has "getting fucked in most depraved ways" in the job description. The only DAP in the fandom I know. Enjoy.

P.S. there is one deleted fic I still think about, it was called The House That Devil Built, methinks. Damn, just one chapter, but it had The Vibe (TM).

If you have a work recommendation that fits The Vibe (TM), just drop it in my inbox (self-promotion welcome obv), I would appreciate it. I rarely lurk AO3 anymore and as fics rarely get reblogged miss a lot of works.

[iloveaustinelvisandmannymore]

Forever, mine.

Pairing: Astarion x reader

Warning: Dark themes, Smut, Concubine reader, Augst, Yandere Astarion, Possessive Astarion, Arguments, Creampie, Fingering, Bloodsucking, One-side love? (Fanart, not mine). Part 2

Summary: don't you know you're his?

You recall the first time you met your master, the white clouds blocked the warm light of the sun. You sat down at the edge of the path of the town where you were confined. Ladies and gentlemen alike walked pasted you, who would pay attention to a beggar? A woman at that who was covered in dirt and grime, hair rattan and tangled, with cloths holed and torn. You sniffled as your vision blurred, barely seeing people walking until tears fell.

That's when you saw him.

It was like the world slowed for his outworldly beauty. A ray of sunlight appeared from the cloudy day and shined upon him, a man of pale skin, white hair that was styled to perfection, eyes an beautiful burgundy, and he was adorned with the finest of fabrics, a smirk full of genuine confidence.

Your breath shorted as the man stopped in front of you once he noticed your glaze, the Heat of embarrassment flushed in your cheeks, and your lap became quite outstanding. Unexpectedly two fingers lifted your chin and your glaze had once again fell on the man. He kneeled on one knee and smiled softly at you to your surprise. Leaning back you surely smelled caused a frown on his lips. "You do not have to fear me pet. I wish you no harm, quite the contrary." his voice was as regal and enchanting as his blessed beauty, "Take my hand." he offered his other hand, you musted of hesitated more than he liked he spoke again "I know how hard this life is. Having to beg for the tiny bit of kindness of cruel people." he looked almost pasted you like he was reminiscing. "I'll take you away. You won't have to worry about your next meal nor surviving another cold, winter anymore.  For I will clothe you, feed you, keep you safe and warm. All your wants and needs will be met." he rubbed some grime from your cheek.

"What do you say?" you took his hand that day and his words rang true. If only you knew what it would come to.

The dancing of the candlelight shined light upon the sinful dance of passion you shared with your master, in the otherwise dark room.

Your mouth dropped open as you let out a strangled moan, Astarion's hold on your hips tightened in response. "My beautiful concubine." Your master growled as he lost himself in pleasure called you, his usual maintained curls, messy from the grip your had them in earlier, and laid over his ruby orbs, He was even more beautiful this way. "You ruin me!" He gasps as you clenched around your poor master, his thrusting stuttered before he began to pound into your squelching, wet cunt. The sent of your arousals and sweat thickens in the air "Harder." You bucked your hips "please, harder." You begged of your master and he surly answered. "As you wish my pet." He chuckled darkly as he throw your legs that rested around his waist onto his shoulders and bend down, driving his already deep cock deeper in your wet cavern. The world seemed to disappeared as your heated glazes locked together, it was just you and him in this moment of passionate, as you both reached your climax, he whispered her name. The name of his beloved runway, Tav, the one you were brought here to just replac. You faked a moan and a shudder, faking your orgasm as your master release his pearly cum deep within you. Filling you with everything he had but his love.

Disappointment and bitterness were a feeling you knew all too well and while he lay beside you it felt like he was miles away, so scared to get close, he saved you and he favored you yet that meant nothing, and it meant nothing as Astarion held you close, your head resting on his chest, snuggling into his side as the moon raised high in the sky. It was nothing and you would always being nothing to him.

As the sun took its place among the clouds of the day, you awoke to his disappearance, likely busy with his duties as the vampire Lord, and a note with your beloved master's beautiful handwriting.

My dearest concubine,

I regret to inform you that I will be occupied for the remainder of the day and night as there is no rest for rulers. I hope you will miss me as much as I miss you.

With love,

Astarion.

You sighed, pushing away the ache in your heart as you sat down on your vanity chair, and began to brush your hair. Despite being only a concubine, you were an extension of your master and you had to look of importance in your master's castle. Once your maid helped you into your gown your duties commenced. You were to make sure things were done to perfection, and that no mistakes were made to give people a slight idea your master reputation was not up to hold.

The kitchen bustled with life as the chefs and the maid prepared for one of the master's many ball events, which would feature various races. Your maid, Lyra, took notes as you checked with the chefs about the dishes. "My lady," she whispered gently, poking your arm to gather your attention away from the head chef's demonstration of the selected dishes. A familiar pale man smiled at you, his teal eyes lighting up as you glanced in his direction. Soren Nightingale, a young man who was clearly infatuated with you, and you felt the same way about him.

Soren took your hand, and you both ran to the garden. Your back hit the tree as his lips met yours. Little did you know, angry ruby eyes were watching from the castle window.

"This how you repay me!" Astarion hissed, slamming the door of his chamber, the moon had raised again shrouding the room in moonlight, "Giving another man love and affection!" He yelled, glaring at you with such rage that you stepped back each time he walked towards you till your back met the wall. "I gave you everything! My love was yours but how would you care!! You still love her? " you yelled back. "You forget yourself. You belong to me! All of you." He grabbed your arm and pulled you into a kiss, his hand tearing away at your gown and underwater, his rough kisses trailing from your lips to your neck, his sinfully hot tongue licking a stripe before his fangs pierced your skin. An unexpected moan forced its way out of you as your master drank from you.

You yepped as his fangs ripped out your neck and you were thrown onto his bed. Your face burned with embarrassment, and frustration as your pussy became wet with your arousal. "oh my pet~" Astarion cooed as he climbed above you, his body bare of clothes, "Your body knows it's mine, why can't you? " he mocked as his cold nimble fingers playfully dips the tip of his finger into your entrance. You glared at him, your lips curled into a snarl "I will never-" your words were cut off as your mouth dropped into a perfect o as his long finger finally pushed it away in. In no time his finger was joined by another as they curled into your sweet spot and they thrusted with practiced ease. Slick coated the silken sheets as well as your master's palm, the coming bliss of your orgasm was taken away as he pulled his fingers from your depths.

"Now we can't have that, you've been a bad pup." Astarion grinned wickedly as he saw the look of anger on your face, he wanted to prove a point and he would, lining up his cock to your core and without waiting slammed in, groaning as he felt your wet walls. You cried out, your body shook from his intense thrusts, his hips snapping, driving his cock deeper and deeper nor did he slow. The bed creaked under you as your bucked your hips to his ponding, and as his cock head hit your cervix, your sweet releasing finally washed upon you. "You belong to me and don't you ever forget it." Astarion growled as he slammed into you, his cock throbbing and twitch as his cum filled you in hot spurts.

You will always be his and he'll never let you forget it. He will make sure to let that little boy know as well.

[berryless]

"What, want me to ruffle your feathers?" Tav asked with a smirk when she caught him staring, as if she didn't ruffle enough of his feathers prior to this moment—figuratively speaking, most unfortunately.

The owlbear's cub sprawled on its stomach beside her, head on her lap as it was cooing something. Given how eagerly it butted into her hand, rather obvious what it was after.

He took a step back, arms raised as he refused, "I'll abstain for tonight. Afraid the competition's too fierce for me to win this fight without any losses. Tomorrow, though…"

He let some hope into his voice, tone laced thick with promise.

Astarion looked at Tav, waiting for her answer, and she nodded to him with a smile on her lips.

"Wonderful. I'll be awaiting then. Most eagerly."

So easy.

Too easy.

He should've known better, but perhaps he was momentarily blinded that she'd finally given up keeping her distance.

Tav played with his hair for a good part of the evening, and Astarion tolerated it—the experience was quite enjoyable, if he was to be honest, but those weren't headpats that he was after. Finally the time came to take the heavy weapons against her, those that he was most proficient at using. Those that hardly ever betrayed him. And he needed Tav to not betray him either. To protect him, when hardly anyone in the camp was terribly happy about having a vampire in their midst. If Cazador… When Cazador… Even though Astarion didn't need to breathe anymore, the air staled in lungs when he thought about this. He needed Tav—and everyone else she have eating out of the palm of her adorable little hand—to stay on his side when that happens. Because as convenient as it may've been, out of many advantages the worm gave him, making his master forget about his existence wasn't one of them.

Her fingers raked his hair and scratched his scalp, sending him into shivers as Astarion couldn't help but lower his guard a notch. He wasn't an inexperienced youngling, still wet behind his ears. He wouldn't miss the change in her touch when it was most familiar to him. It would be rather convenient for Tav to hold his neck or slide her fingers under the lacing of his shirt, so Astarion expected that. Ears too were a good starting point… Lips, perhaps, if she was feeling adventurous for a sharp touch of his fangs…

He turned to the side, forehead pressed against Tav's stomach to let her get to the back of his head. Then turned again, face buried in her lap.

As tedious the pointless waiting went, this kind of foreplay was not without its pleasures. If she were to continue fondling the rest of him in same manner, Astarion wouldn't mind much. If anything, the thought was getting him rather excited, albeit weary in a similar way any kind of sex did. But it was familiar kind of wear he was most used to, so Astarion was slipping into it with ease like one would into old boots they've long been donning. Perhaps the heels were stooped a bit from years of use, and the laces were frayed and brittle, but those were the boots he'd worn for as long as he could remember. He didn't have a spare, if there even existed a spare the likes of him could afford.

Finally Tav's hand stopped, resting on his neck as she barely moved her big finger against the edge of his hairline.

He knew it was coming, and yet a part of him was strangely disappointed.

Well, no point dwelling on it.

Finally it was his turn to…

"Think I'm spent for the evening. My hand's cramping. Want to lie down for a little while longer, or you'd prefer to rest on something more comfortable than my lap?"

Her question came most unexpectedly. At first Astarion thought he heard it wrong. But when he raised his head to check Tav's face, there was nothing special on it, like she was asking something mundane, barely worth of notice. And it was a rather mundane thing to ask. If you weren't expecting anything else to follow.

She wasn't.

It stunned him when Astarion realized that.

Thankfully it lasted barely a moment, and then his instincts kicked in.

"Why? I find your lap a rather enjoyable place to rest my head on."

'It would be even better if you were to let me put it between your legs, but I suppose I wouldn't get much rest then,' was supposed to follow, but somehow it got stuck in his throat. He couldn't even say why at first.

Because she wasn't flirting. Because it wasn't foreplay. Because she just offered to ruffle his feathers in a most simple, primitive, childish way possible, and never planned to stretch the invitation to something more salacious and titillating.

Ruffled his feathers she did.

With much too fervor.

Astarion hardly remembered the way he traveled back into his tent and what he said in the process. Surely it was something appropriate for the occasion, he could trust the habits beaten into his skull by years of use.

No wonder she agreed so easily. He must've been blind not to notice.

He laid down, curled into a ball, sulking—for what, Astarion couldn't tell.

Perhaps it irked him that his plans fell through, and the cooked duck flew away from his mouth when he was so close to biting into it. What else could've been the issue otherwise?

But most strangely, a tightness in his stomach loosened as soon as he was left alone. He breathed with ease, warm ticklish touch of Tav's fingers lingering on his skin.

Safe.

From what..?

He didn't know.

[anacdoce]

hii, i don't know if you take requests, but I really like your "hating it" fic and wanted to ask if you could do a follow-up fic with tav teaching astarion how to swim? thanks in advance 🩷

Hello! Yes I can do some requests, feel free to ask!

I'm very glad you asked me this. It was fun to write! Thank you! And I'm sorry if this took a while to answer, but I had to focus on my long fic "I Wish" first.

I hope you enjoy it, and I hope it was worth the wait 🖤

Hating it, but not too much - Part 2

Pairing: Astarion x you (f!reader)

Rating: T

Word count: 1.1k

Summary: It seems like Astarion is going to the beach again. But this time, maybe he isn’t being dragged there—maybe he’s dragging you instead!

a/n: Thank you @casualya for the screenshot! 🖤

This is a follow-up of this oneshot (if you want to read it first).

Lots of love!

Read on oa3

Astarion hated so much that first day on the beach with you, that some days later he asks you to go again. 

“Darling, I don't want you to suffer with all this heat. Maybe you’d like to go to the beach again? You seemed to enjoy it so much…” He tilts his head to the side, trying to look casual.

You glance at him, with a kind of mischievous look on your face. “Oh… I don’t know. You were so uncomfortable…”

“Well, I… hum… don’t you worry about me, my sweet. Anything for you. Go grab your things. I have the towels ready.” 

“And your swimsuit?” You press your lips together, stifling a giggle. 

“I have it.” He replies, distracted. 

“You do?” 

He looks at you frowning. And you can't contain your laughter anymore. Astarion crosses his arms, growling. “Could you stop? You're wasting time.” 

“Sorry, Love. You're right. I would love to go with you to the beach again. I'll grab my things.” 

“Thank you.” He waves his hands in the air, showing his impatience. And he follows you through the house, hurrying you along.

After some time, you arrive at the beach. You choose a spot to place your things on the sand, and when you're about to open your sun umbrella, he stops you. “Put that down. We won't need it. Come.” He holds your hand and leads you towards the sea. 

You don't have time to react, dropping the sun umbrella and following him. He needs to get to the water. The thought has invaded his mind and he wants to try it. You seemed so relaxed when he watched you doing it the other day… It should be simple. But he doesn’t know how… so, he has to ask for your guidance.

You reach the waterline, and today the waves seem to be more gentle than the other day. He keeps holding your hand more tightly than before, and he feels… anxious? Yes. He's anxious. Definitely. 

“Is everything all right?” You ask, seemingly confused.

“No… Well, yes. Everything is fine.” He clears his throat and mutters. “Can you teach me how to swim?” 

But his voice is lost in the middle of so much noise around you. “What? I didn't hear you…”

He snorts, rolling his eyes. Are you really making him repeat himself? “By the Gods, woman! Can you teach me how to swim?” He shouts, startling a couple of tieflings passing nearby in that same instant.  

“Sorry.” You chuckle at them as they walk away, mumbling. Then you turn to him again with a playful smile, ready to tease him, but he stops you right away, placing a finger on your lips.

“Don't you dare, Darling.” He grumps. “Don't you even think about it.” 

You hold his finger, kissing it. “All right, all right. I'll teach you.” You say, chuckling. 

“Will you?” He asks, a bit surprised.

“Yes. But you have to do what I say. And you can't complain about what I'll ask you to do. Deal?” 

Astarion looks at you suspiciously, but you seem serious. “Deal.” He finally agrees. 

Immediately, you lead him to the water, and he follows. With the water up to your waist you stop, and he obverses with attention when you position by his side, placing a hand on his small back. 

“Now, you'll lie down on the water, on your back. I'll make you float first.” 

“You want me to lie on the water? But I'll sink!” He says nervously. 

“What did I say about complaining?” You stare at him and he sighs almost ready to reply, but instead he closes his mouth and frowns to you, resigned. You position again beside him, ready to continue your explanation. 

“You won't sink.” You say with confidence. But he keeps glancing between you and the water. “Do you trust me?”

“I do.” Astarion answers right away.

Then you place your other hand on his shoulder, pressing him to lie down, and he obliges slowly, feeling the cold water refresh his body. 

“You're doing great, my love. Can you extend your legs and arms to the side?” You ask, always with a smile tugging at your lips.

Astarion does as you ask, but always keeping his neck in tension to look at you, not quite confident yet. 

“Good! Perfect, Astarion.” You rub his small back with your thumb to reassure him, while you keep supporting him, preventing him from sinking. Then he feels you rest your other hand on his neck. “You think you can relax your neck? I'm here, my star.” 

And once again, he let you lead him. He presses his neck against your hand. His ears submerged in the water, listening to all the underwater sounds. 

“Flap your hands underwater, gently, and close your eyes, Love.” He hears you say, and he does as you ask. He feels his body so light, floating on the cold water. For a while, he stays there, just floating. The world seems to vanish. It's just him. And you. Wait. Where are you? You're not holding him anymore! Startled, he opens his eyes and begins to move uncontrollably in the water. And there you are, by his side. As soon as he starts splashing, you grab his forearm. 

“Calm down! I'm right here. I never left. You were doing so well, Star. All by yourself.” 

“Was I?” He widens his eyes, surprised.

“You were! Now, do you think you can do it again, but laying on your belly this time?” 

“Can you help me?” He murmurs.

“Of course! I'll place my hand under your belly.” Astarion leans into the water, waiting for you to guide him. And you help him, as promised. “Lift your chin up. Yes, like that! Now, flap your arms, like before, and your legs. You're going to swim, my love.” And he smiles. So grateful. 

For a long while, you stay there with him, teaching him, making him believe once again that he can do anything he wants.

He'll cherish this day forever. The first time he swam. And he'll never forget your smile. Your smile, full of pride. Pride for him. Pride for his accomplishments. Never did he think of having someone in his life to be proud of him. But every day, you showed him otherwise.

You’re a treasure.

His treasure. 

How lucky he is to have someone like you. Someone who he can count on for anything. Even for the small and insignificant things. Even for teaching him how to swim. 

Thank you so much for reading my story. Likes, reblogs and comments are very welcomed!

Tagging: @wilteddreamsofbaldursgate <3

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Thinking About Evie (Ace!Tav) Growing Old with Astarion

A/N: It's the spooky season and with it some melancholy. As always thanks to @leighsartworks216 for letting me ramble.

Consider this a pseudo prequel to some of these headcanons: How Astarion and Evie (Ace!Tav) Would React to Each Other Dying

For all Astarion has tried in so many ways to keep his Evie alive and safe, there is nothing he can do against time

At first, it feels like something to be celebrated

For a long time Evie didn't expect to grow old

Her life was so focused on surviving to the next day it never occurred to her that some day she'd look in the mirror and find her hair streaked with grey and crows feet around her eyes

Astarion can't help but be caught in her joy

He never expected his life to end up like this; he's married! He owns a shop and never has to worry about where his next meal is coming from. Gods he's even happy.

Of course there are the downsides to growing old

Evie can't help but feel it as Astarion stays ever as he was

She knows she's slowing down. They settle into a village outside Baldur's Gate and she's afraid she's holding him back. She can't really adventure anymore, but that doesn't mean he has to stop. He can go on without her, but Astarion stays, setting up a shop with odd hours and settling into domesticity the likes of which neither of them dreamed they would have.

Her eyes start to fade, and he helps her find a pair of glasses teasing how her eyes are so beautiful it's about time they got them framed.

More grey comes into her hair and he takes the strands between his fingers claiming they're made of silver.

The wrinkles of her face get deeper and he kisses the corner of her mouth taking full credit for all the good ones and maybe even some of the bad ones

The crease between her brows he knows for a fact was his fault.

Even when it gets the point when the stairs up to their room start to get a bit much, he picks her up; "I never was the prince charming type, but for you, my love, I'll make an exception".

She knows he's trying to make her feel better, to make her feel like less of a burden, but she knows it hurts. She knows it's hard for him to watch her start to fade.

She tells him as much, saying that when it starts to be that time, when it becomes too much, he doesn't have to stay.

Astarion actually gets angry when she says this, she can see it flash in his face and it's a testament to just how much he's grown that he doesn't immediately lash out only asking her why in the hells would she even think that.

Yes, it hurts. Yes every day he is more and more aware that their time together is limited. And yes, when she does go, he's not sure what he'll do. But he's not leaving. That vow he made on their wedding day wasn't idle talk. He promised til death do us part and he meant it. No matter how much it might hurt, he will not rob himself of a single second of life with her in it. 

He tells her, perhaps her out living him is a good thing. He personally condemned 1,000 souls to hell and ruined countless others besides. Maybe he needs that extra time to make up for it so that when he does finally die, he'll actually be able to find her in the next life

But, on a lighter note Astarion teasing Evie for having a sexy trophy husband when he's four times her age