spacebarbarianweird - Tumblr blog

[spacebarbarianweird]

Batstarion 👌

Some with the twins (His dhampire kiddos)

Btw, this is part of the au that Astarion can turn into a bat without the ascended thing. As much as I love ascended Astarion's alternate sides, spawn Astarion is more my style personally. Especially when he's with his little bat pups. (～￣▽￣)～

[spacebarbarianweird]

People

1) vampires always look the same they did when they died. So magistrate Astarion was just in a very good form

2) he is an elf. Elves always look more beautiful than others

3) vampirism make certain features look rougher but not severely twisted

So stop removing Astarion’s abs! If he has them, he had them in his mortal life. It has nothing to do with realistic representation. You can't starve a vampire to death .

But you can drive them insane

Guys I just can't trust people who get triggered over mods that remove Astarion's laugh lines but then use mods that get rid of his abs. I know he was starved but you really can't apply human logic to an undead being who never physically ages. Like is it so hard to believe a Magistrate could have worked out or something like that? And literally how much mass is a liquid diet going to add to someone?

[spacebarbarianweird]

Shotgun Wedding

First thing you see after you zoom in is how you die

How you dying 👀

[spacebarbarianweird]

How about you doodle/draw Astarion on a clothes shopping spree, impossibly happy or teary or however you like, since he's had nothing of his own in 200 years

How about you doodle/draw Astarion just... Hugged. Loved. Cared for. Having his head patted. His ears caressed. Ticklish Astarion, maybe. JUST HIM. HAPPY.

How about you doodle/draw Astarion braiding beloved's hair (anyone, your Tav, Gale, Wyll, Halsin, a random Tav, Shadowheart even (I personally think they'd be besties and talking shit about everyone in camp in Elvish while they do each other's hair and nails))

How about you doodle/draw Astarion just sewing. Anywhere, any act, before or after the game. Just anytime.

How about- (I'm so sorry)

I loved the sewing idea and a little comic was born

[spacebarbarianweird]

I haven't gotten tired of those prompts! Send me if they are to your liking!

Classic tropes/prompts in parental stories <3

The kid wakes up in the middle of the night because of nightmares and is too scared to sleep by themselves, so they sneak into their parental figure's bedroom, begging them to sleep together

Hide and Seek

Parental figure carrying the kid piggyback

Tickle fights! (no need for explanations, that's just adorable qwq)

Kid falls asleep somewhere and the caretaker finds them, bringing them to their bed

Caretaker and the child fall asleep on the couch together while watching a movie <3

Caretaker takes the kid to a fair, playground, restaurant or shopping, just spending the day and having fun together

Winter! (picture snowball fights, sleighing, buliding a snowman, hot chocolate, baking cookies, Christmas presents)

On a cold winter day Caretaker notices that the child is freezing so they draw a gentle smile and say: "Come here", pulling them under their coat to warm them up

Caretaker gives the kid their clothes, which are waaay too large for them so they are sitting there in a oversized sweater and Caretaker rolls up their sleeves

(and for a bit o' whump :D) Child gets injured/sick and the caretaker has to tend to their wounds or nurse them back to health

Stargazing together or catching some fireflies (I have a soft spot for that one <3)

Or just both of them cuddling under a blanket in front of the fireplace while rain and thunder is rumbling outside :3

[spacebarbarianweird]

I've finished the long anticipated breeding fic about Astarion and Tiriel but it basically comes in two parts. One is a smutty description of wild lovemaking. The other one is about dealing with the news Tiriel is with the child. And Astarion freaks out to the point of nervous breakdown. Now I think if I should make it in two parts or publish as a whole (the way I wrote it).

[spacebarbarianweird]

You know what. I am going to watch the show NOW

Fallout New Vegas is always on my heart

I can’t wait to see Lucy realize who this jackass actually is 🤣

based on the meme in the read more section by @flam-kish

[spacebarbarianweird]

Thank you luv! Your reblogs alway make me happy and on the floor!

How about the next one will be about how they made our bbaby girl in the first place? A pure accident, but a very hot one!

Little Bundle of Darkness

Synopsis: Astarion becomes a father.

Tags: fluff, comfort, dadstarion, dhampirs, pregnancy

Alethaine's age: newborn

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Thanks @lobster-risotto for beta-reading!

Astarion wants to leave the house, just to distract himself a bit. Just to take a break.

A cry of pain pierces the air. 

The vampire starts moving objects in the room mindlessly. He hates dissociating but at this moment he misses this feeling of not being present in the moment.

It's been years since he felt so useless, so doomed. And so scared.

Another cry, louder than the previous one, and Astarion clenches his fists as if being ready to attack an invisible enemy. 

He and Tiriel have been through a lot. He has seen her in blood and pain many times - his fierce warrior-wife who wields a two-handed axe with the same elegance he uses daggers is unstoppable and unbreakable.

But this… this is different. 

"I - I can't!", he hears Tiriel. "It hurts!"

Whatever she wants to say next, drowns in yet another cry.

Astarion casts a glance outside. The sun is still shining so he is locked inside the house. Helpless and useless while Tiriel is suffering in agonizing pain only with a midwife to be by her side.

...He had no idea it was possible. He is an undead. Undead men don't impregnate mortal women. Besides, it had been twenty years since they met. If it had been possible to conceive a child, it would have happened a long time ago.

But – 

One day her blood just tasted different. And Tiriel was so tired she couldn’t lift her weapon on their back home from the wilderness. She was claiming everything was all right and he had to drag her to the town’s healer.

She came back much sooner than he expected, and he immediately sensed something was utterly wrong. Tiriel sat in front of him in the chair, eyes firmly fixed on her hands.

"My sweet, what did he say?" Astarion asked. By this moment he started feeling a wave of his own panic. Tiriel is mortal. She is a warrior, yes, but she isn’t immune to curses and, after all, death. And besides he had never seen her like that.

"Astarion, tell me one thing. Have you heard about children born from vampires?"

"Yes, I have. Dhampirs. It’s like being a vampire without downsides,"he got so carried away that he basically gave a lecture to Tiriel, and then stumbled. "Why do you ask?"

And then she put her hand on her belly.

“He told me I am pregnant.”

… The next months were intense. Sometimes everything was good. They could even sit and talk about the future – sure, the child was going to be an elf with just a bit of human ancestry on Tiriel’s side. 

But more often than that they both were scared. Tiriel had insane mood swings and she would burst into tears after some innocent mockery from him. He had nightmares and panic attacks. Everything he thought had gone for good returned the instant he’d learned about pregnancy. 

And Tiriel… Well, the thing is women die at childbirth even if the child is mortal. Even if before the woman has challenged the gods.

Cries from upstairs are unbearable to hear. Astarion wants to be there with Tiriel and, at the same time, he wants to be miles away. And it’s all his fault. 

If she dies, it will be his fault.

Fuck it.

Astarion goes up and with a bit of hesitation pushes the door. The smell of familiar blood makes his head spin.

“Go away, idiot! I told you not to come here!” the midwife curses. “There is too much blood!”

“No, please!” Tiriel begs, reaching out for him, “Don’t go!”

Astarion kneels beside her and squeezes her hand. “I am not going anywhere, my sweet.”

What if something is wrong? What if the child is some monster, not even resembling a sentient being? What if…

And suddenly Tiriel goes silent.

A squeal, full of fury and distress, pierces the room.

“Well, this one looks like a healthy girl”, the midwife places the baby in Tiriel's arms. 

The tiny Elven baby with long pointy ears stops crying, feeling her mother’s skin against hers.

Astarion stares at the child in shock.

“Didn’t really take after me, did you?” Tiriel adjusts herself a bit in the bed. “My lovely beautiful girl”, she presses a kiss against the baby’s forehead, “Look at her ears, they are like yours!”

Astarion can’t take his eye off them. His child. His and Tiriel’s. His daughter. Not a monster – just a baby. 

The long pointy ears twitch, and Tiriel starts caressing them.

“Tiriel… My love…”, he finally manages to speak again, “Her ears are very sensitive, don’t touch them too much”.

“Oh, I am sorry”, Tiriel stops. “But they are so cute!”

“They are.”

Astarion can’t decipher what exactly he feels. All these months the child was just an idea, something he couldn’t feel attachment to. But now that the baby is born, the realization that nothing will be the same hits him. That his life has just changed forever.

And this is good. The worst thing that was happening to him all the centuries of enslavement was the understanding that nothing would ever change. Nothing would get better or worse because everything would stay the same. And now, it’s something new. Something natural. Something he thought was available only for normal people, not someone so twisted and ruined like him.

Tiriel touches his arm softly.

“Hold her.”

“What?! No! I am not…”

“It’s your child, Astarion”

Astarion stands up and recoils. “Tiriel, I will hurt her! Look at her, she is small! I will… I will do something to her!”

It seems like his voice scares the newborn and she starts crying again. 

“Sit with me”, Tiriel asks. “Please”

Astarion hesitates but obliges. Before he says anything, the little bundle is already placed in his pale arms.

He freezes. The girl cries even louder demanding to be returned to her mother. Astarion touches her forehead with his fingers – the skin feels delicate like silk”

“Ai armiel telere maenen hir, salen damia”, he whispers in Elven.

And the girl stops crying. She looks at him with her dark eyes and suddenly smiles. The newborn stretches her tiny arms as if trying to reach out for his face. 

And Astarion bursts into tears. Sobbing, he cradles the baby in his arms, hearing the fast heartbeat within her delicate rib cage. 

It’s his daughter. His treasure. The reward for everything he’s been through. The sign that he has been doing the right things all these years.

Tiriel puts her chin on his shoulder and wraps her hands around his waist.

“Thank you, my love”, Astarion says to her. “This is a gift.”

They sit like that for what feels like an eternity. Finally, Tiriel breaks the silence.

“She needs a name.”

Astarion studies the girl’s face as if looking for a hint. Then, the name comes to his mind, though he doesn't know where he could have heard it.

“Alethaine. My love, can we call her Alethaine?”

Tiriel nods. “It’s not like I have any other suggestions. I was scared to death the whole time. It’s beautiful. Let’s call her that”.

It’s already night when the midwife leaves the house. Astarion helps Tiriel to get to the bed with clean sheets and then brings her sleeping Alethaine.

Astarion watches how Tiriel pulls the collar of her shirt freeing swollen breasts and then places the girl that way so her mouth in front of the nipple. The girl makes sucking movements and her ears twitch simultaneously.

Tiriel starts humming – and Astarion recognizes a human lullaby he’s heard from Tiriel maybe only once or twice. 

He carefully puts his head on Tiriel’s lap so he can see both his wife and daughter.

“How are you feeling?” he finally asks.

“Tired. Happy. And you?”

Astarion chuckles. “You pushed a whole Elven baby out of your body and wonder how I am feeling?”

“Actually, yes”

“I feel … alive.”

Tiriel reaches to his silver curls and strokes the hair with her free hand.

“Thank you for giving her to me”, she whispers.

Ai armiel telere maenen hir, salen damia (Elven) - you hold my heart forever, my child

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @astarion-beloved @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati

[spacebarbarianweird]

Could you please write more about pregnant Tiriel? Your writing about her finding out she's expecting and about Astarion hearing the baby's heartbeat were one of my favorites?

Synopsis: Astarion takes care of pregnant Tiriel.

Tags: dadstarion, pregnancy, fluff

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Waiting

“I think I am going to die in childbirth,” Tiriel says, pressing her face to her knees.

Astarion would sigh if he could. Tiriel sits shoulder-deep in a bath of warm water, as the vampire washes her hair and rubs her back.

“You aren’t going to die. You are a half-elf and I am sure the child is rather small. Look at your belly, you are in your last month and it’s not really showing.”

Tiriel turns away. Well, to call her belly small would be an underestimation – her slim body is currently betraying pregnancy. It’s covered in stretch marks that won’t disappear, ever. But again, Astarion has seen many pregnant human women in Daggerlake within the last five years and Tiriel has definitely been spared, carrying someone who takes after their elven ancestors.

But once Astarion thinks he’s managed to cheer her up, Tiriel sniffs.

“What if something is wrong with the baby? You are a vampire! I love you and all that, but you are still undead! What am I even carrying inside? And what if the child is sick? Or deformed? Or…What if it is going to kill me?”

“I can promise you, if something goes wrong, we are saving you,” Astarion splashes water on her hair.

“Thank you.”

He kisses her shoulder. “Don’t worry that much, the last thing you need is to cause a complication.”

Tiriel touches his fingers. 

Astarion adds more soap to the tub. The scent of vomit and sweat still lingers on Tiriel’s skin and Astarion takes a clean piece of rug.

Tiriel has been feeling so bad in the last few days she barely left her bed. Her legs hurt, she couldn’t eat without vomiting, and she hardly slept because of back pains. She finally made herself go out that evening to eat properly, but, the moment Tiriel finished her dinner, she felt nauseous and everything Astarion had cooked for her ended up on her home shirt.

That moment, Astarion had enough of that and carried Tiriel to the bath. 

“I'm sorry,” she says.

“What for?”

“I look disgusting.”

“Nothing is disgusting about a pregnant woman,” Astarion says, rubbing her left ear. “Besides, I’ve seen and done much worse things than giving a bath to someone I’ve knocked up. Your condition is my fault and I am taking full responsibility! Now, let me wash your front.”

Tiriel presses her back against the tub allowing Astarion to get to her belly and legs. Astarion smiles seeing the visible bump and carefully rubs the skin.

He is so close he can hear the second heartbeat. 

It is not clear to him when the child is going to be born. Elves are pregnant for two years, but Tiriel’s body is hardly capable of doing so. Humans need nine months for the same process, but Astarion has learned from the healers in Secomber, the closest big town to Daggerlake, that it’s never clear with half-elves. And it also depends on the child – Astarion tries to think about the baby as an elf with just a bit of human ancestry (still enough to fuck up the gentle elven biology).

But in reality…

The child is half-him, half a vampire anyway. And that should bother him.

He is afraid of that moment. He waits for that moment to come. And he also misses Tiriel in sensual terms. He wants her blood (which is out of reach for him till she stops breastfeeding), he wants her body (they haven’t had sex ever since she got pregnant). 

And he wants her to stop being in such pain daily.

“I look ugly,” Tiriel chuckles. “Don’t try to say it’s not true.”

“It's not. You are beautiful!”

Suddenly Tiriel flicks his nose. “My eyes are here.”

Astarion realizes he’s been staring at her swollen breasts and small droplets of white liquid on Tiriel’s nipples.

“Stop all this nonsense, Tiriel!'' Astarion takes her leg and stretches it to wash it better. “I like caring about you. I like how you look. And I absolutely love that it's me who did this to you. It all feeds my vampiric possessiveness, after all!”

“And I love that it was you who did this to me,” Astarion feels Tiriel’s fingers on his cheek.

“Now, get out of the water before it gets too cold!” Astarion brings towels. “Is food still out of the question?”

“I want something hot to drink.”

“I will make you herbal tea, then.”

Astarion, after making sure she is dry, carries Tiriel to bed.

He looks outside. What he loves about his house in the underground part of Daggerlake is the big windows. There is no point in hiding from the sun, and Astarion can enjoy going outside whenever he wants. Besides, the biggest part of the town is underground too, and Astarion also doesn’t feel like an outcast.

And his neighbors have seen much worse things than vampires who know the law.

Suddenly Tiriel yelps. He turns to her and notices the night shirt she’s put on is wet. 

But wasn’t Tiriel's skin dry when he took her from the bath?

Tiriel hugs her belly and lets out a cry of pain. 

“Tiriel…” Astarion rushes to her. No, not today. He still needs time to get ready.

Tiriel grabs his shoulder. “Go to the healer… I am.. Gods…”

The child has decided to be born today. ------ You can read what happens next in Little Bundle of Darkness --

@tugoslovenka  

@herstxrgirl 

@herdarkestnightelegance  

@vixstarria 

@not-so-lost-after-all  

@marcynomercy  

@theearthsfinalconfession 

@starlight-ipomoea    

@micropoe10 

@astarion-imagine-archive  

@veillsar

@elora-the-slutty-songstress  

@fayeriess  

@lumienyx  

@tallymonster    

@caitlincat-95  

@tragedybunny  

@valeprati  

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@queenofthespacesquids  

@ednaaa-04  

@dajeong

@wilteddreamsofbaldursgate

[spacebarbarianweird]

Communication

Surprise surprise, they're no good at it.

This is a continuation of my in-game bardlock series, seeing as I left a large gap in it between an intimate and emotional scene and a whole bunch of unhinged fucking. Sorry about that.

Takes place after Intimacy but can be read as a stand-alone!

Read on AO3

Astarion x f!Tav

Early Act 3. It has been nice, but it's time Tav and Astarion actually figured out what it is they're doing and what comes next.

Tav is a half-elf bardlock. I'm calling her Tav in this fic, but if you know you know.

Hurt/comfort, some fluff and a drop of humour (I am me after all) if you squint, love, angst

TW: some very casual violence and murder

Approximately 3.9k words. 

“Well?” A very giddy Astarion had appeared behind Tav. “Let’s go!” 

The party had finally reached the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate and were setting up camp near Rivington, after a brief excursion in the area. 

“Go where?” she asked.

“Anywhere! I haven’t seen these streets in sunlight in two centuries.” 

“Now..?”

The city was flooded with refugees. Some child whose mother was definitely not coming for her had seemingly declared herself adopted by the group. There was a towering pile of corpses just outside one of the nearby gates. A circus was in town.

It was nice to finally be back in civilisation.

“Yes, now! Forget the bloody tent, maybe we’ll find an inn to sleep in for a change.”

Nothing had been arranged, set up or planned yet. They had only the vaguest notion of where they were going.

“Sure, a walk sounds lovely right now,” shrugged Tav.

It very quickly became obvious that finding an inn would be nigh on impossible. The streets were crowded with refugees, frantic citizens and all those who would either try to keep them in order or prey upon them.

“Are we going anywhere in particular, or are we just... going?” Tav asked, trying to make her way through the throng. She had never seen Baldur’s Gate this busy before. 

“There is something I’d like to show you,” answered Astarion. “Some place, to be exact. It’s- hey!”

He realised that he was talking to no one, as they had been separated by a group of dwarves pushing their way through between them. Tav smiled at him over their heads, raising her arms in an open-palmed gesture of defeat and resignation.

“Can’t you keep up?” Astarion sighed, rolling his eyes, and reached for her, taking her hand and linking his fingers through hers.

This… This was new, particularly in public, and Tav bit her lip, fighting not to smile, as he guided her after him. 

Astarion glanced back over his shoulder at her, to see her grinning. 

“Oh shut up,” he huffed, before spilling into a smile too, despite himself, and drawing her close to kiss her.

“Half-elven whore,” a nearby elven woman muttered to her companion in elvish, tsking in distaste at the sight. Either she did not expect to be heard or understood, or simply did not care.

Astarion turned towards the woman, with a glower, but before he could retaliate with his own snide remark, Tav told the elven woman to go fuck herself with a splintered broom, in perfect elvish, and pulled Astarion further down the street before the woman thought of anything else to say.

“Such... delightful use of the True Tongue, dear.” Astarion seemed in equal parts impressed and taken aback. “Don't tell me you’ve been holding out on me this whole time..?”

“Oh, no, I only know a little bit,” laughed Tav. 

“Do indulge me.” 

“No, it’s really hardly anything,” she shook her head. “I can count, exchange pleasantries and profanities, know a few songs I can’t translate, and a few odd phrases.” 

“Such as?” 

“I can scream for help in elvish, for one,” she offered. 

“Why would you need to scream for help in elvish..?” 

“Men are more likely to come running if they think it’s a little elven maiden they’re rescuing,” she explained with a sigh. 

Astarion mulled that over with a frown for a bit. 

“I’ll have to take your word for that... What else? And for hells’ sake, just say something, I enjoyed hearing it.” 

She said the first phrase that came to mind.  

Astarion stopped dead in his tracks, with what Tav knew to be the expression he held when he was doing his best to keep his face straight.  

“So let’s start with what you think you just said.” 

“...Shit. ...Uhh.” Tav gave Astarion a sheepish look. “‘My small children have had nothing to eat for days.’?” 

“Darling,” he said, cupping her cheeks, trying not to laugh. “My love. That’s not quite it... Now, how many people do you think you’ve told you’ve ‘eaten nothing but small children for days’..?” 

“Ah... That explains the reactions,” Tav said thoughtfully. 

“Horror?” Astarion finally snickered.

“Usually laughter... I just figured most elves were assholes.” 

Eventually Astarion brought them onto a rooftop that offered an impressive view of the city and surrounding regions.

“It’s so strange to be here in daylight,” he murmured. “This was one of my spots,” he said, turning to Tav. “I used to come here at the start of my evenings, alone, and just… enjoy the peace and quiet for a while.” Astarion took a pensive look around. “Admittedly, the tiles weren’t as hot at night, and all the bird shit wasn’t as prominent.” 

They found a place to sit down.

“I thought you would try to get your job done as quickly as possible,” said Tav.

“There had to be a certain balance to it.” Astarion shook his head. “Start prowling too early, and the potential targets wouldn’t be ripe for the picking yet. And even if I managed to get someone back to the manor early on in the evening, it would only mean I would have to ‘entertain’ them longer.” He shut his eyes and leaned back against a chimney. “It was better to take some precious solitary repose, when I could.”

“Do you think you might have taken me back to Cazador if you’d met me back then?” Tav asked quietly.

Astarion opened his eyes and frowned at the sudden question. 

“Not if I’d ever seen you perform, no,” he deliberated. “I never went for the bards. They were almost my co-conspirators, though they didn’t know it. I couldn’t waste them.” He paused before continuing. “But otherwise, if I’d just bumped into you at a tavern… Probably, yes. A pretty, reckless stray… You would have been perfect. …Would you have followed?” He asked, glancing at her.

“Probably,” she replied, staring off into the distance.

They sat in silence until Astarion broke it with a question.

“Will you stay with me when all this is over?” 

Just the sheer amount of effort he put into trying to make that question sound casual spoke volumes. 

It caught her off guard. They’d spent many evenings in his tent lazily basking in vague fantasies about an ‘after’, usually concentrating on the idea of being able to stay in bed all day, or the concept of their hair and fingernails being free of dried blood and entrails for a change. They’d never actually discussed any realistic nuance of this ‘after’. Or what it might look like, other than what it wouldn’t look like. 

“Are you certain you want to take Cazador’s place in the ritual..?” she asked, carefully. 

“Why shouldn’t I?” Astarion immediately sounded defensive. 

“You don’t even know what it entails or means, not really...” 

“It means having everything I’ve been missing the past two centuries, what else is there to know?” He scoffed. “...You haven’t answered my question,” he said after a pause. 

She said nothing for a while, looking down at her fingernails. 

“Stay and do what..?” 

“Anything!” he exclaimed. “Anything you want. We could do anything. Do you have any idea what I will be capable of? Of the power I will hold. The influence.”

“Yes, yes, legions of wolves, turning into mist,” she recited. “What else… Commanding ghouls, I think?” She threw her head back, looking at the sky. “I’m not sure why you would need to do any of that, though.”

“Unimaginable power, and you mock it…” Astarion said indignantly. “I suppose you would rather go frolic in the woods with Halsin..? …Oh don’t look so shocked, I’ve seen how he looks at you. Sleeping in the dirt, living off the land. Is that what would make you happy?” 

“He looks at you the same way! And must you jump to extremes?” She let out an exasperated sigh. “Even if I were interested in Halsin, there is ample space between sleeping in the dirt and sleeping in that gothic monstrosity, in which I might find myself happy.” 

They sat in silence for a while. 

“I don’t think you should go through with it,” she said, finally. “Something about it just doesn’t sit right.” 

Astarion looked at her with an unreadable expression and didn’t say anything. She continued. 

“I know enough stories - and before you roll your eyes at me, there is usually a grain of truth to them – and I’ve read between the lines of enough history texts, to know there is no such thing as a jolly vampire lord that just has a grand ol’ time carousing in their castle. It’s always centred on cruelty, misery and violence.” 

“I suppose you know plenty of stories of jolly vampire spawn,” he spat. 

“Some, as a matter of fact. They usually revolve around romance and redemption.” She sighed and continued, as he let out a bitter laugh. “I’ve never heard of any demonic deals that ended in anything that wasn’t disastrous, either. The point is, nothing that involves blood or soul sacrifice has ever made anyone happy.” She looked in the direction of Cazador’s palace. “We should kill Cazador, burn it all to the ground and dance on the ashes. I will be by your side. And yes, I want to stay with you. Of course I do.” 

“For how long?” Astarion asked quietly, after a pause. 

“...What?” 

“How long will you stay by my side? You have another... 100 years, 150 at best? I can’t offer any solutions to that as a spawn.” 

She blinked, realisation dawning in her eyes.

“...Astarion Ancunin, did you just say you want to spend the rest of eternity with me?” 

“Oh don’t you bloody dare turn this into a joke,” he bristled. “Just for once.”

“Not a joke, but…” She paused and gave her head a brisk shake, as if to snap herself out of a daze. “Just so we’re absolutely clear, what are you saying?”

“Isn’t it obvious..?” The grin that had crept habitually onto Astarion’s face felt like a suffocating mask. She only stared back into his eyes, unblinking, waiting for him to continue. “I could turn you. Grant you an eternity.” ‘With me’, he wanted to add, but the look in her eyes made the words die on his tongue.

None of this was going the way Astarion had expected. Not that he had planned any of this… Still, he’d made certain assumptions. He’d anticipated the conversation and day would flow somewhere along the following lines: re-affirm his plans for Cazador. Exchange words of undying love and devotion. Maybe, maybe make love to her again, later, in celebration. Instead everything was slipping like fine sand through his fingers. Words simply wouldn’t come out of his mouth. Everything he thought he might say suddenly felt pathetic.

“Turn me? To become one of your spawn?” Astarion opened his mouth to speak, but she talked over him. “Two centuries as something you say is less than a slave, a puppet, and you would so easily offer the same fate to me..?”

“First of all,” he sputtered, “I don’t know why you immediately assumed there would be others. Secondly,” he continued, slowing down, “there is another way, or so I’ve read. You wouldn’t be a mere spawn, but a-” Astarion winced, cutting himself off. “Never mind,” he said, shaking his head. This was rapidly spinning further and further out of his control. “I thought you trusted me?” he asked instead.

“It’s not about trust,” she said. “If you had the choice between a hundred years of absolute freedom or being enthralled to someone for eternity - doesn’t matter who - me, Gale, your long-lost grandmother, anyone! What would you choose?”

“I would never compel you,” said Astarion, his voice tinged with a hint of pleading.

“That’s not the point,” she said, looking away, running her hand through and tugging at her hair. “Let’s just head back. We still need to set up before it gets dark, and I promised Karlach we would visit that bloody circus…”

Something inside Astarion shattered and spilled, ice-cold, over his heart as she got up and walked away. 

Not even an hour had passed since some of the happiest moments he’s had in centuries.

They walked back in silence. 

Eventually they came upon an outpost of Flaming Fists and steel watchers, who had appeared on the road they had taken into the city. They were apprehending everyone trying to pass through, whether they were leaving or entering. 

“Let’s try a side street,” offered Astarion. 

They found and made their way through a narrow alleyway. It was empty. Suspiciously empty, in fact - no children running through, no one out for a quick smoke, no drunks pissing on the walls.

Sure enough, once they were halfway through, three goons intercepted their way, stepping out of a doorway. Two humans and an enormous half-orc wide enough to block out most of the passage. 

“Alley toll.” One of the thugs flashed a malicious grin, eyeing Tav up and down. “Better pay up, doll.” Three more jeering hoodlums appeared behind them as he spoke, armed with crude but lethal weapons. 

“Attempting to detain a Council battlemage on duty? Bold but stupid,” she said gravely. “Hand over your profits and Lord Gortash won’t learn of your little enterprise. This is your only warning.” 

Trying to bluff and deceive her way through, per usual. Was there even a Council anymore? Did it employ mages? No matter. Whether due to the fact that she and Astarion had decided to wander the streets of the city in civilian clothes, without armour, or simply because the lust for money and violence had gotten the better of the would-be muggers, they paid her attempt no heed. 

The leader laughed.

“Or, how about we have some fun with you, and your Lord Gortash can come and collect your body from the river once we’re done with it?”

Astarion’s blood boiled.

He reached for his daggers, thoughts racing. Why in the hells had they come here barely armed..? They were surrounded, but perhaps if she blasted the three in front of them they might run through..? But they were probably too close for that… Could she misty step behind them and get away? His undead body would most likely survive whatever came, even with the tadpole. 

“Take the ones behind,” Tav snapped, and Astarion followed her lead, as he had grown used to, silently praying to no particular deity that she knew what she was doing. 

He ducked as one of the goons bellowed and swung a sword at him, dodging the blow to come up next to his attacker, burying a dagger between his ribs and another in his guts, for good measure. At least the alley was too narrow for all of the bandits to come in on them at once. Behind him, Tav spat some incantation that he wasn’t familiar with.

The next lout came at him, only to stop short, as Astarion scrounged up his meagre magical abilities to hurl a firebolt at his face, making the man yelp and grind to a halt in shock and pain. Astarion’s dagger followed through his eye socket shortly thereafter. 

The entire altercation with the two thugs took mere seconds. Another controlled shout from Tav followed behind him.

The last of the muggers on Astarion’s side backed away, looking at the scene unfolding behind Astarion with a horrified expression, before breaking into a run and disappearing. 

Astarion turned back to witness Tav standing with her arms crossed, looking unaffected, just as the half-orc who had been behind the group’s leader pulled his sword back out from the leader’s stomach, having impaled him from behind.

Tav barked another command as the leader collapsed, and the half-orc slammed the head of his other cohort, who hadn’t understood what was happening yet, against a wall, with a resounding crunch. 

A domination spell. 

Astarion felt nauseous. If his body had been capable of producing bile, it would have crept up at the back of his throat. For once, the smell of freshly spilled blood all around them was repulsive to him.

 “Kneel,” Tav commanded, calmly. The half-orc’s body immediately dropped to its knees, with a thud that spoke of damaged kneecaps.

“I’m running out of time. Do you need him?” She stepped over the body of the group’s dying ex-leader and walked around the half-orc, to stand behind him. 

Disgust and revulsion continued to claw at Astarion’s insides. 

“…What?”

The half-orc’s eyes were void of any emotion. A small mercy.

“Blood. Do you want his blood, before I spill it?” she said nonchalantly.

“…No,” he swallowed. Not like this…

He watched as she slit his throat, carefully standing behind him to avoid blood spraying over herself. Comprehension returned to the man’s eyes just as he made his last gurgling sounds, before stilling forever. 

“That was despicable,” Astarion hissed, finally breaking his gaze away from the body. “Compulsion? Really?!”

She gave him an incredulous look, momentarily speechless.

“This is what I do!” she exclaimed. “This is how I protect myself. You know this! What the fuck did you expect - that I would set off a fireball in an alley?! Or make one of them have a fit of giggles?!”

“You didn’t need to do anything, I could have handled all of them,” he countered.

“Oh, stand behind you like a meek little lamb?” She scoffed. “While neither of us are even wearing armour, and they’re on both sides? Don’t be ridiculous.” She crouched to wipe her dagger on the dead man’s clothes. “What does it matter, anyway,” she said, offhanded. “Dead is dead - who cares how they got there?” 

“It was just like Cazador all over again,” Astarion said, bitterly. “Watching my siblings torture each other, for his amusement, waiting for it to be my turn to be compelled.”

She stilled as she crouched, not looking up at him. 

“You fucking hypocrite,” she said, finally, rising. 

“What in the hells are you talking about?” he grimaced.

“Comparing me to Cazador, when you’re planning to take his very place.”

“How dare you?” Astarion felt the last of his composure leaving him. “I am nothing like Cazador, and I never will be,” he growled.

“No?” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re already thinking of your own spawn. Maybe you would keep your word and not compel me, but you would be curious. All that power that you’ve been wishing was yours for 200 years...” She gesticulated, tilting her head. “First just one teensy little slave - someone who’s wronged you, maybe, someone who deserves to bear your ire. Then, perhaps someone convenient, in a place of power. Someone like what you would have been, had Cazador not botched your death so bad that it became public. Then another. And another. And what will you do with them once you have them? Take them for midnight picnics and host slumber parties?” 

She spat on the ground. 

“I’m going back to camp.”

She stormed off, fuming, exiting the alleyway and mixing into the crowd. Astarion followed at a distance, discreetly wiping the blood that had landed on his hands on the shirt of a random passerby that stumbled out in front of him. He gritted his teeth, watching her.

It had taken every last bit of his self-control to not snap back at her during her little tirade. 

He wanted to stalk off in the opposite direction, but frankly all his things were at the campsite, and he still needed the group’s help, both with Cazador and the tadpole. And he couldn’t discount something else happening to her on the way back. 

No, none of this was what he thought would end up happening today. Was this the end..?

It didn’t matter, he thought. Let her be stubborn. Let her accuse him of gods know what. He would do what he had set out to do. Hells, even if she changed her mind later - it would be too late. Let her live out her “hundred years of freedom” in regret.

And how fucking dare she?! Insinuating that he was or could ever be anything like Cazador. After all he had given her. His trust. His love. He didn’t have anything else. Not as a spawn, anyway.

But perhaps she would change her mind, after she gave his proposal more thought..? He could talk her into it, couldn’t he? He’s talked so many people into doing exactly what he wanted them to do…

There was no point in anything otherwise. It was all for her. All he wanted for himself was revenge. Freedom. Safety. But all the power in the world was meaningless if he couldn’t share it with her.

Astarion winced at the thought, hating that it even crossed his mind. If only he could claw it out of his brain and smash it against the cobbles beneath his feet. How much simpler life would be.

He would not grovel. He would not apologise. He would not change his mind. And he would rather die, again, than be caught running after her like a dog. 

Astarion cursed, slipped into the shadows and turned invisible, breaking into a sprint. He wouldn’t be able to replicate the trick for a while now, if the need arose, but he couldn’t care less. 

He raced up sets of stairs, speeding through a terrace, dodging the patrons of whatever establishment it was he was going through, and leaped, unseen, onto the next building’s, until he was ahead of her, descending back onto the ground and losing his invisibility around the corner from the main street, stepping out just in front of her. 

He caught a glimpse of her scowling and furiously blinking away tears just before she crashed into his chest with a light gasp, as he wrapped his arms around her. She was stiff and rigid, but at least she didn’t try to push him away. Still, a part of him was screaming that it was already too late.

“I don’t want you to have to commit those atrocities when you’re with me,” Astarion murmured into her hair, holding her close.

“You’d rather commit them yourself?” she retorted, her voice weak.

“I don’t want to,” he said quietly, as she seemed to become more malleable, and sank into his embrace, slowly wrapping her own arms around his back. “But I will if I have to. For you.”

“That makes two of us, I guess,” she managed, sounding choked up. 

Astarion took a deep breath, relieved. Mine… Still mine… He thought to himself, touching his forehead against hers and stroking her cheek. Someone in the street heckled them, yelling something about getting a room.

“I already don’t have much to offer, beyond all my burdens,” he whispered. She looked up at him, eyes glistening. She tried to protest, but he pressed a finger to her lips. “I want to do what I can, for you. For us. What good am I if I can’t even keep you safe?”

He pressed his lips against her forehead as she hugged him tighter. He had no idea whether he had convinced her of anything, or if she simply didn’t have the will to argue anymore, but for now it didn’t matter.

“I will love you no matter what,” she breathed.

Another jeer followed from the crowd, and someone cursed at them to get out of the way.

“A legion of wolves sounds tempting right about now,” she added, as he smiled.

“Do you still want to get Karlach and go to that circus?” he asked.

“Fuck the circus,” she mumbled into his shirt. “But I guess we should.”

They made their way back to the camp, fingers interlocked again. The silence that stretched once more almost felt comfortable this time.

~~~~~

Thanks for reading!

Series master list

Next in series - A night at the inn

AO3

~~~~~

Tag list:

@littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny @spunky-89 @acourtofpenandpaper @yoonshope @lariatbunny @whiskeyskin @asterordinary @wingsy-keeper-of-songs @spacebarbarianweird @brabblesblog @littlejuicebox @icybluepenguin @snowfolly @ayselluna @mj-bites @bardic-inspo

[spacebarbarianweird]

Shadowheart and Halsin would be a very beautiful couple

I wish that companions could romance each other. Like, yes, I'm dating one of them, but have you heard all of them talk about one another??? Bitches are horny on main. Let me companions have relationships independent from me. They deserve as much.

[spacebarbarianweird]

WIP Game 📝

Rules: make a new post and share 1-2 sentences from your most recent unposted WIP(s) with zero context – Let your followers guess!

Tagged by the lovely @bloodsuckingfiends

Tagging @vixstarria @tragedybunny @marcynomercy @not-so-lost-after-all This is a pregnancy fic I am going to publish soon!

“I look disgusting.” “Nothing is disgusting about a pregnant woman,” Astarion says, rubbing her left ear. “Besides, I’ve seen and done much worse things than giving a bath to someone I’ve knocked up. Your condition is my fault and I am taking full responsibility! Now, let me wash your front.”

[spacebarbarianweird]

Ok apparently i can't use more than 100 links in the post and my full list of headcanons has reached the point of no return. Now i need to think how to organize stuff I write better XD

[spacebarbarianweird]

Hi there! I love your writing and I was wondering if I could get a request? Just something fluffy between Astarion and a Tav who's body runs HOT. Gets hot super easily and finds it hard to sleep on humid nights. I feel like Astarion would LOOOVE their warmth and could help cool them off when they're too hot.

Hmmm... Do you know what DnD race really runs hot? Fire Genasi!

Those who think of other planes at all consider them remote, distant realms, but planar influence can be felt throughout the world. It sometimes manifests in beings who, through an accident of birth, carry the power of the planes in their blood. The genasi are one such people, the offspring of genies and mortals.

Astarion x Fire Genasi

Your skin is hell hot and you have fire resistance.

You feel warm in winter but humid summer days are torture.

Let's say, Astarion is obsessed with your body heat.

Your blood runs so hot, that it feels boiling.

And your skin feels warm as if it was enchanted with fire magic.

Early in your relationship, Astarion would always find a way to sneak longer around you.

Once he ended dining, he would find every possible reason to stay close.

Until you permitted him to stay.

Now, he wraps himself around you like a weighted blanket and you finally get some pleasant coldness.

As your relationship progresses, you get more and more comfortable with each other.

Sometimes when you feel too hot, you run up to Astarion to wrap yourself around him.

He does the same when he can't stand the coldness of his own body.

There are also some other tricks you know - you can create fire sparkles with your fingers and you do that to calm Astarion down when the darkness takes a grip on him.

When he screams in pain caused by invisible claws, and every touch feels acid, you create flame and let Astarion watch it.

It mesmerizes him and as he watches you start speaking in Ignan, a primordial language of your ancestors, the language full of sharp clicks and hisses.

Astarion slowly relaxes and allows you to touch him. You can sit like that for hours, his cheek placed on your chest, his eyes on the flame as you talk about things he can't understand.

He finally starts meditating, and you tug him closer so he can take all the warmth he needs.

@tugoslovenka  

@herstxrgirl 

@herdarkestnightelegance  

@vixstarria 

@not-so-lost-after-all  

@marcynomercy  

@theearthsfinalconfession 

@starlight-ipomoea    

@micropoe10 

@astarion-imagine-archive  

@veillsar

@elora-the-slutty-songstress  

@fayeriess  

@lumienyx  

@tallymonster    

@caitlincat-95  

@tragedybunny  

@valeprati  

@lynnlovesthestars   

@marina-and-the-memes  

@waking-eyes   

@ayselluna  

@connorsui  

@asterordinary  

@darkarchangel96  

@locallegume  

@brainfullofhotsauce   

@coffeeanddonutscafe  

@my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen 

@queenofthespacesquids  

@ednaaa-04  

@dajeong

@wilteddreamsofbaldursgate

[spacebarbarianweird]

Can u pls write an headcanon about astarion x male tav that's also an sa survivor?

Well, that's an interesting request! Let's see what I can do!

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion x Male!Tav_SA victim

TW: mild description of CSA

You are an elf raised by half-elves (your distant relatives) in a predominantly human village.

You always felt off as a child, mostly, because strangers would look at you weirdly.

"Such a cute boy", it sounded like a slap, not a compliment.

A new cleric, assigned to your village, behaved even weirdly around you.

Until one day he didn't drag you to the basement and didn't do what no adult should ever do to a child and no man should ever do without consent.

He threatened to murder your family, to bestow a curse on them if you ever tell them about "this little secret".

You don't know how long it lasted for. A month? Half a year? A year?

How often did it happen? Once a week? Every day?

Your mind would erase the particular details and you just hoped the cleric would get rid of you.

Unfortunately, such things can't last without consequences for a victim.

You were infected. Something disgusting, something the cleric had caught from sex workers in seashore towns.

It was so obvious what kind of sickness that was there was no point in hiding anything.

You told the truth to the healer and your relatives.

Your family demanded justice but no one believed either you or them.

You didn't remember the particular details - and that's why you were accused of lies.

You were forced to re-tell the events to every fucking person who asked and the more you talked the less they believed you.

More than that, it caused racial troubles in the town. Humans just thought elves wanted to get rid of the cleric.

After all this, your family had to abandon their farm and leave.

And it was all your fault.

The disease was cured but it left an ugly scar on your stomach.

Ever since you were afraid to undress in front of anyone. You had one lover, though, a much older human man, but he treated you like a doll, like a cute toy and you eventually left.

And now you are here.

So far from your birthplace among the people who don't know you.

Astarion's sweet words hurt you. Your body remembers too well what happens after.

He tries different tactics with you but almost none of them work.

Eventually, you get wasted at the party and go to him with only one desire: "to fuck bad memories away".

It doesn't go smoothly. The ugly scar on her stomach is visible for the ones with dark vision and you end up crying for the whole night in Astarion's arms.

The vampire definitely didn't expect such a turn of events but to his own surprise, he realizes he actually likes being a caretaker.

He says the words you need to hear.

"Not your fault. Never been your fault"

You bond over a shared trauma, so different and yet so similar.

On the graveyard, you both have consensual sex for the first time and you end up being a top which somehow comes more naturally to you.

Once you are free of the tadpoles, you travel.

You both have nightmares. You both have issues to deal with.

But it's easier to overcome together.

One day, you end up at a place with a big temple. You have a terrible setback since this is the domain of the same god whose servant raped you back in the day.

And what is worse...

The High Priest is your rapist.

He doesn't recognize you but you know it's him, an old pervert.

You beg Astarion not to do anything stupid but he doesn't listen.

He kidnaps the priest, and ties him in the woods, far from the city guards to let you do the justice.

You know the execution won't bring you peace. Nothing can repair what was damaged.

So you just castrate the cleric and let him go, threatening to cut other parts of his body off in case he tries to come after you.

Well, you did enjoy the punishment after all even though it can't change the past.

@tugoslovenka  

@herstxrgirl 

@herdarkestnightelegance  

@vixstarria 

@not-so-lost-after-all  

@marcynomercy  

@theearthsfinalconfession 

@starlight-ipomoea    

@micropoe10 

@astarion-imagine-archive  

@veillsar

@elora-the-slutty-songstress  

@fayeriess  

@lumienyx  

@tallymonster    

@caitlincat-95  

@tragedybunny  

@valeprati  

@lynnlovesthestars   

@marina-and-the-memes  

@waking-eyes   

@ayselluna  

@connorsui  

@asterordinary  

@darkarchangel96  

@locallegume  

@brainfullofhotsauce   

@coffeeanddonutscafe  

@my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen 

@queenofthespacesquids  

@ednaaa-04  

@dajeong

@wilteddreamsofbaldursgate

[spacebarbarianweird]

Everything else vs Drizzt Do'Urden and his half-drow daughter Brienelle

[spacebarbarianweird]

I've just learned Drizzt Do'Urden has a half-drow daughter called Brienelle Zaharina (she is 4 during the events of Baldur's Gate III)

A sudden urge to introduce her in Dhampirs of the Swords Coast as Alethaine's older friend