Look At This Handsome Lil Devil!! 😈

I don't know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I'd like to.

I used the photomode mod to take a look at Astarion's love confession scene. Normally, the camera is focused on Tav when choosing what to say.

These are the expressions Astarion is making off-screen while you are hovering over dialogue options.

How do you think he found out about his not-so-dark-but-still-weird urges.

So gorgeous

Astarion, painted using Procreate on the iPad 🎨

If you fail to persuade the spawn that attacked at night

Leon: Stand with the runt of the kennel? The one who always whimpered while he got beat? Save us? That lickspittle only ever wanted to save himself - the rest of us be damned. You were always weak, brother. We don't follow weak. 

See this is the reason why I don't care for the other spawn. Fuck the 7k spawn and fuck these guys, too.

Yes I know Astarion is ready to sacrifice them, too but can you really blame him? This is obviously how they talked to him when he was controlled by Cazador. They saw him as weak and unimportant.

It is incredible Astarion actually can manage to say no to revenge on all of them and he can turn down the power from the ritual. It takes a lot of strength to do that.

*struggles while writing* i suck and writing is hard

*remembers some ppl use ai* i am a creative force. i am uncorrupted by theft and indolence. i am on a journey to excellence. it is my duty to keep taking joy in creating.

Even better if they are occasionally unreliable narrators

absolutely love abusing the power that comes with 3rd person limited pov and just ignoring things and being vague sometimes. does the character know all the details? no? then I don't have to either.

It's all coming up Astarion.

The Embrace of Love and Death, Chapter 4: Bite, Bite, Baby

Summary: It’s Bite Night! Miss Fortune awakens to find Astarion’s fangs a breath away from their neck and suddenly all the signs they dismissed before snap into place: their companion is a vampire. Astarion is caught off guard by Miss Fortune’s unexpected reaction.

Read the full chapter on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64221298/chapters/166132147

Excerpt:

“Were you about to-“ they cried out.

“Shhh! Keep your voice down. It’s not what it looks like,” he pleaded. There was a haunted look on his face as he shuffled back from where he crouched, his hands held up in a placating gesture. “I wasn’t going to hurt you! I just needed - well, blood.”

“So you came to cull the weakest of us first. I understand. I didn’t realize you were a vampire, but in hindsight the signs were all there.” They hugged their knees, resigned to their fate. After all, what hope did they have of fighting off a vampire at night in such a tight space?

“You find a vampire in your tent and your first reaction is numb resignation?!” He asked, incredulous.

“Did you want me to be mad?”

“Yes! No! I-I don’t know!” He paused for a few moments. “There is a lot to unpack here. You and I are going to have a long talk later about your lack of regard for your own life. I need you alive, you know. We all do,” he said with a huff. “Secondly, I didn’t come to you because you’re the weakest but because I thought you’d be the most understanding. The least likely to stake me on sight.

“And lastly: What do you mean you didn’t know?!” Astarion whisper-shouted, gesturing wildly. “After you made a big show about reading that book about ‘vampyrs’ where you knew I’d spot you? Or the hint you dropped about how I haven’t been eating? You shivered at my cold, undead touch earlier. I thought for sure I’d been found out and you were working your way up to blackmailing me o-or…driving me out.”

“Pure coincidence,” they shrugged. “Why didn’t you just tell me if you thought I’d understand?”

“It was still a big risk to take, you know, when a wrong guess would spell my demise.” He shook his head. “No, I needed you to trust me. And you can trust me.”

Miss Fortune considered his words for several moments. Studied his face. The arch of his white eyebrows, raised in concern. The deep set eyes, wide with fear. The way his nostrils flared and his mouth hung slightly agape. The man was terrified, ready to flee at a moment’s notice and never return.

“…I do,” they said at last. “I trust you.”

Not pictured: all the many nights my brain wakes me up at 3 AM or 5 AM with ideas that CANNOT wait and I MUST write them immediately

Writers on a random Tuesday: Sits down, locks in, giggles, writes 10k, does not sleep

Also writers on a random Tuesday: writes one sentence and then stares into the abyss for five fours

Chapter 3: Astarion and Miss Fortune Learn to Work Together

Summary: After a petty squabble between Astarion and Miss Fortune nearly gets the whole party killed in the Overgrown Ruins, Lae’zel begins training the rogues on how to work together. Astarion gives Miss Fortune a flirtatious anatomy lesson on the best places to stab someone, somehow managing to make murder sound sexy. Miss Fortune also attempts to develop a reading habit with a strange old book they found in the ruins called ‘The Curse of the Vampyr.’

You can also read it on AO3

The overgrown ruins near the nautiloid crash site had nearly become home to five fresh corpses seeing as Miss Fortune and their companions had barely survived the encounter with the bandits occupying it. The worst of their injuries belonged to Gale, who had been practically been snapped in two by a barbarian. It was another defeat in the half-elf’s recent losing streak, and Lae’zel’s words from the previous evening about them being weak and a liability eviscerated their confidence.

The mood was tense at supper; nobody seemed willing to break the sullen silence as they tore into the turkey Lae’zel had killed on their way back to camp. As usual, Miss Fortune noted that Astarion, seated next to them, was merely pushing the food around on his plate. At one point he seemed to take the tiniest of bites, yet didn’t seem to chew or swallow. He appeared more focused on the raw gash splitting Miss Fortune’s lip than on his supper, and they resolved to ask about it someday soon. Despite the throbbing pain in their mouth, the half-elf forced themselves to eat double helpings lest they provoke the Gith into giving another lecture.

As it turned out, the extra meat wasn’t enough to earn them a silent retreat. When they finished up and stood to go lick their emotional wounds and rest their sore, freshly healed body in the comfort of their tent, they heard Lae’zel clear her throat from where she sat.

“You’re not going anywhere,” she barked. “That goes for you too, Astarion,” she added as the pale elf attempted to sneak away unnoticed.

“And why is that, Gith?” Miss Fortune sighed, world-weary.

“We all nearly died in that disastrous skirmish today, and the blame rests on both your shoulders.” The warrior rose, stalking over to where the pair of them stood. “Neither of you think before you act. You both rush in, daggers flailing, without a single plan in your vacant skulls.”

“Ouch, you wound me, Lae’zel,” Astarion sneered. “I do have a plan: to murder everyone and everything that needs killing.”

She pointed a finger into his chest. “That’s the kind of plan that gets you killed. And us along with you.” She turned her attention to Miss Fortune. “And you. You’re a pretty face with a silver tongue dripping sweet words. People like you. You can talk your way into and out of situations with ease, which is why I haven’t gutted you and taken over as leader yet.”

“Uh, thanks?” Miss Fortune said, rubbing the back of their head in confusion.

“I’m not finished. Your fighting style lacks discipline, and a freshly hatched Gith has a better head for battle tactics than you. We don’t need two rogues skulking around everywhere. If you had half a brain, you would leave the pale one at camp to watch the cook pot.”

“Now you wait just a-“ Astarion began to object, but Miss Fortune cut in.

“That’s not an option!” they shouted, their stomach twisting itself into knots. They couldn’t begin to explain why, but Astarion had become an indispensable presence for them in these short few days. They didn’t always see eye to eye, but the half-elf enjoyed his witty banter as they slogged around, and for whatever reason he was a calming presence for them. The view from behind was nothing to complain about either.

Taking a deep breath, they continued in a quieter voice: “One surprise attack can cause grievous injury to a foe; two could be lethal. There’s strength in numbers, so why should we throw the advantage of two stealthy fighters away? We can slit people’s throats before they even notice we’re there. Surely you see how valuable that could be, ‘General.’”

Lae’zel must have noticed the steely resolve in Miss Fortune’s body language and realized they wouldn’t budge on the issue. And if she bristled at the ‘General’ jab she didn’t let on. “He stays, then. But you must learn to work together. You speak of two rogues felling opponents before they can raise alarm? That doesn’t happen by chance, istik. You must get to know each other on and off the battlefield. You must think and move as one.”

“If I may,” Shadowheart interjected. “Although I mended the worst of his broken spine, Gale should rest for a few days before I would consider him fit to fight again.”

“And although I cannot explain the phenomenon at this juncture, it would appear that our parasites remain in some sort of state of stasis,” Gale added from where he rested at an incline, his face pained and glistening with sweat. “By all of the extensive accounts I’ve read on the matter we should be mind flayers by now, and yet none of us have experienced a single symptom to indicate that such a fate is on the horizon. Of course haste is still of the utmost importance, but with nary a tentacle sprouted between the pack of us I’d say we could spare a few days.”

“So it would seem,” Lae’zel considered. “It is settled then. We remain at camp until Gale is recovered, and I will train you two relentlessly. It begins now. Unsheathe your daggers.”

Astarion and Miss Fortune exchanged glances, each daring the other to protest. Neither did. Instead, they did as instructed.

“First, you must watch what the other is capable of. Learn each other’s strengths and weaknesses. Miss Fortune, you will begin.” She gestured to the practice dummy they had found in an abandoned merchant’s cart along the road. “You will initiate combat repeatedly. Astarion, you will note hi-” she paused, correcting herself “their speed, their mannerisms, everything you can. And then, you will switch. I will merely watch tonight, but tomorrow I will instruct. Do you understand?”

“Sounds simple enough, but are you sure this is necessary?” Astarion asked coolly.

“If you like your guts inside your body, it is.”

“When you put it that way, let’s begin!” Astarion laughed nervously.

The pale elf stood watching with his hands on his hips as Miss Fortune ran through the exercise over and over. Tonight, they practiced a stealthy approach where they crouched down and drew closer to the practice dummy as quietly as possible before delivering a swift, sudden strike.

The sun was beginning to set, leaving pockets of darkness Miss Fortune could step or roll between to stay obscured. Fresh as they’d been to the thieves guild, they’d done several jobs for them working the streets. It was those experiences they tried to conjure memories of to guide their movements. But even so, those jobs were mostly to cut purse strings or extract information. Prior to being kidnapped they’d only killed one person before. And that first kill had been left with so many stab wounds the detectives hadn’t been able to identify the body. So while they’d excelled at stealth, their sneak attacks were guesswork at best. They had no idea where to stab a body to do the most damage in one go.

Over and over again Miss Fortune retreated, snuck their way over to the practice dummy, and jabbed. They tried to ignore the nerves that came with being assessed as they realized Astarion and Lae’zel’s eyes never left them. When sweat began to drench their shirt they simply removed it. Goose flesh dimpled their skin and a shiver went down their spine from the sudden cold. It wasn’t until about five rounds after the half-elf thought they couldn’t take it anymore that Lae’zel told them to stop.

“Enough. Astarion, report. What are their strengths and weaknesses?” Lae’zel demanded.

Astarion crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re nimble, darling, and you have a good eye for keeping to the shadows. But you have no idea where to aim your blade,” he said, sounding bored.

“That’s not what I’m used to hearing,” Miss Fortune smirked, flicking their gaze briefly downwards toward their crotch and back.

“Oh ha ha, what a time to develop a sense of humor.” Astarion rolled his eyes, then sauntered over to where the half-elf stood. “Allow me to show you.” He stood right behind them, his breath in their ear as he drew a sharp finger across their throat. “I’m sure you’re acquainted with every rogue’s favorite spot, the throat slit.”

Miss Fortune became aware of his scent for the first time - a combination of earth, citrus, and something else they couldn’t quite place. They found it utterly alluring. “You smell good,” was all they could think to say.

“I know, darling, I missed my calling as a perfumer. Do try not to let my aroma distract you,” the pale elf chided as he moved his hand slightly to the left, nearing the side of their neck. Miss Fortune visibly tensed, waiting. He mimed a stab-and-jerk motion to the side of their Adam’s apple. “A jab like this and they’ll bleed out in moments, gurgling helplessly on their own blood.” He moved again, now hovering a hand over their eyes. “A quick stab through the eye will render a brain quite useless. You could achieve a similar effect jabbing through the back of their neck, though your blade is more likely to get stuck if you don’t know what you’re doing - and you clearly don’t, not yet.” Next his hand went to their ribs, and as his fingertips brushed against their exposed skin Miss Fortune shivered; was Astarion cold to the touch, or was their sweat-soaked body merely playing tricks on them?

“A quick jab between the ribs will puncture a lung and they’ll be unable to call for help,” Astarion continued. Even talking about murder, the man’s voice was so sensual and calming, somehow soft and gravelly at the same time. Miss Fortune realized it would take a great deal of willpower to not just agree to anything he asked for when he used that voice. The pale elf’s hands traced along their ribs down to their lower back before miming another double jab. “Those darling kidneys back here don’t like to be prodded either; while this won’t bring as swift a death as other places, rest assured your target will not be long for this world without those organs.”

The cold feeling dissipated as Astarion stopped touching them and continued the demonstration elsewhere on their body. “Nobody expects a thrust to the armpit, yet you can get a lovely bloodletting from that most unguarded place,” he said as he once again moved his hand to mime thrusting into the crook of their arm. “And of course, darling, there’s always a good stab upwards at the crotch. But we’re not on intimate enough terms yet for me to show you that one,” he teased, stepping away.

“If you’re done with your demonstration, it’s your turn Astarion,” Lae’zel interjected.

The pair of rogues switched places. Miss Fortune felt ill at ease standing with Lae’zel. They blocked her presence out of their mind, instead putting all their focus on watching Astarion run through the same maneuvers they’d just finished. The half-elf noted with approval how gracefully he moved as he flitted across the clearing. Almost like a cat, his feet hardly seemed to touch the ground at times. They were certain his stealthiness surpassed theirs. When it came time to strike, however, Miss Fortune noticed two things: he seemed to hesitate for a split moment deciding where to strike, and his strikes were surprisingly weak given his athletic physique. His build was slighter than theirs but his muscles were better defined, so the revelation was baffling. They relayed these thoughts to both Lae’zel and Astarion when it came time to report their findings.

“I’m merely holding back, darling, wouldn’t want to intimidate you if we’re going to be forced to work together,” Astarion sniffed, though his eyes darted to the side as he spoke.

“Enough,” Lae’zel cut in. “I agree with your assessments of each other. You’re dismissed for the night. Rest up, I won’t go easy on you tomorrow.” She left without waiting for a response, leaving the rogues alone in the clearing at the edge of camp.

“Well, this is an interesting development,” Miss Fortune tested the waters.

“Mm, yes, I suppose it is,” Astarion drawled, once again sounding bored.

“I’m gonna go wash up in the river; care to join me?”

“I’ll pass, little bird. I’ve got my own needs to see to.”

“Understandable,” Miss Fortune said with a smile, trying to mask their disappointment. “Perhaps I’ll catch you around the fire after?”

“Perhaps,” Astarion said with a noncommittal wave of his hand as he turned to leave.

The first thing Miss Fortune did when they got back from the river was stop by Gale’s tent to see how he was feeling. They felt a pang of guilt when they realized he’d already turned in for the night. It had been a jolt to their nervous system watching the barbarian bandit smash his back against their knee. They could still hear the sickening snap of his spine, feel the erratic racing of their heart as they feared for their new friend’s life. Lae’zel had been right. They had bickered with Astarion over their approach and wound up alerting the group to their presence, effectively handing over the advantage. Gale was in this sorry state because of them, and now they’d have to stew in their guilt a little longer before they could properly apologize.

Miss Fortune recognized that familiar dark, heavy fog rolling through their brain, and they thought of the other night when Astarion barged in on them furiously jerking off in order to earn enough peace for a night of sleep. Remembered his words of how so-called normal people handled insomnia and decided to try reading the book they’d nabbed from the ruins that day.

And so it was that Astarion returned to camp to find Miss Fortune stretched out on their stomach by the fire, brow furrowed as they stared down at a mildewy tome.

“Ah, I see you’re picking up a new hobby,” the pale elf interrupted smugly. “Borrowed a book from Gale, did you? This one has seen better days. I would have thought the wizard would take better care of his most prized possessions.”

Miss Fortune looked up from the ancient text. “I grabbed this from the ruins today - it looked cool, but…I’m having a hard time reading it. Seems like the writing is very old.”

“Hmm, mind if I have a look?” He asked as he glided down to sit beside them. Miss Fortune pushed themselves up and handed the book over. He snapped the book shut to observe the cover and looked as if someone had doused him with icy cold water. “The Curse of the Vampyr?! What in the hells possessed you to pick up a book like this?”

“I…what’s wrong with it?”

Within moments the calm, charming mask was back in place. “Oh, nothing really, this is just much too advanced for a novice reader like yourself. Tell you what: why don’t I take this off your hands, and you can borrow one of my storybooks? I’m sure I have something more suitable. I might even have one with pictures.”

“…Sure, sounds great,” Miss Fortune said suspiciously. They could tell something was off about this situation, they just couldn’t tell what. “Thank you.”

“Of course, of course, anything for my favorite traveling companion.” His face was too perfectly composed, only deepening the half-elf’s unease. They decided to change the subject. “On another note, Astarion, I’ve noticed that you haven’t really eaten much of anything the last few days.”

“Have you now?”

“I struggle with that, too. Growing up I sometimes was purposely not given food for days at a time so I could be thinner, and even now it can be difficult not to do it to myself.”

“…I see.” His face was unreadable, as if resolved to give nothing away.

“You don’t have to share anything you don’t want to. Just know that I get it and I’m here if you want to talk. But keeping our strength up is more important right now than a thin waist. That’s what I keep trying to tell myself, anyway.”

“Heh, you’re sweet. Thank you. I’m sure I’ll be up for sharing in due time, little bird. But for now, let me fetch you a new book.”

He rose, taking The Curse of the Vampyr with him into his tent. He returned moments later, a fresher, smaller text in his hand. “Here,” he said, holding it out. “This one’s got dashing knights and the like, should be far easier to get through.”

“Hopefully it will help quiet my mind,” Miss Fortune sighed as they took the offered book.

“Well, I suppose you’ve always got your old fallback plan if it doesn’t, hmm?” His grin was nearly predatory.

“Hey, whatever works, right?” Miss Fortune shot back, refusing once again to give him leverage over them for that. “Thanks again for the book. I’d better get to quieting my mind one way or another. Sweet dreams,” they said as they got up, rolling their bedroll back up. They spared one last backward glance on their way to the tent to find Astarion watching them go. In the glow of the fire, they noticed a deep sadness in his eyes that matched the brokenness Miss Fortune felt inside. They felt an invisible tug to go back over to him but ignored it - it was too soon, they reminded themselves.

“Sweet dreams,” Astarion replied before he, too, got up to put out the fire and return to his tent.

Sweet dreams were not in the cards for Miss Fortune, however. That night they thrashed wildly in their bedroll, sweaty and afraid, as visions flitted through their mind. They dreamt they were stuck in a bird cage with nothing but a bed clad in the finest silk sheets. As the scene panned out they were one of hundreds of people trapped in a field of birdcages. A pair of giant hands methodically opened each cage, removed the person, and either choked the life out of them or outright snapped their necks. The walls of Miss Fortune’s mind reverberated with the sickening sounds of bones snapping and people gurgling, fighting for breath. As each one died the giant discarded them unceremoniously into a pile until they had to crane their neck to see to the top of the pile of corpses. Their dream self searched the whole cage for a secret exit, finding none. Next they tried to pick the lock of their cage but their fingers didn’t work right and they kept dropping their lockpick. The hands reached their cage and the half-elf tried to flee only to find the silk bedsheets had come to life, wrapping themselves around their wrists and ankles. They were bound tight as the hand reached in for them, the giant’s rumbling laugh shaking through their whole skeleton.

“Do you want a quick death or a slow one?” it boomed.

“Quick!” Miss Fortune shouted, eliciting more peals of booming thunderous laughter.

“You don’t deserve a quick death. Request denied.” And a hand closed around their windpipe.