„Astarion ending as the Vampire Ascendant is the correct ending for him, because it is what he wants.”
That is a claim I’ve been seeing pop up more and more often these days. And I think it’s both a very bold and a very odd claim to make.
But first things first: Hello, I’m a licensed social worker! So far, I’ve worked with children, refugees and youths with behavioural issues stemming from bullying and or abuse.
Please be aware that I will be mentioning different kinds of abuse, coping mechanisms, and victim/abuser relationships. If any of this is difficult for you, don’t force yourself through it. My jabbering about a traumatised vampire is not worth your wellbeing, not ever.
I will, however try to stick to Astarion and not use other examples. If, in any case, I do use a non-Astarion example, I’ll add a warning beforehand so that you can skip the part. And I’ll make it clear what will be discussed in the next bit, so that you have a chance to skip it entirely.
This is an effort to make this as accessible as possible for everyone that wants to indulge on a mad woman’s rambling – and I know there’s a few people that like this sort of stuff!
And, uh, there's obviously spoilers for all three acts. Serious spoilers, even.
Before I can get into the whole ‘why Astarion didn’t really want to ascend,’ we need to understand him a little more. And to understand this pretty boy’s brain, we first need to understand the gist of what we’re talking about when we throw around the word ‘abuse.’
“Abuse” is when someone is treated with cruelty, violence, or neglect – often to bad effect – on a regular basis. Repetitively. Check’s out for Astarion, I’d say, but we all knew that already. I mean, if one thing was obvious, it was this.
1. Astarions Abuse
Next we need to look at what kind of abuse Astarion faced over his long years of torment, seeing as different types of abuse will have different effects on the victim.
Not that that is anything we have to worry about with him – Astarion won the abuse lottery, to put it bluntly. In a horrible game of fate, he got everything. He himself indirectly mentions all the types of abuse he faced, albeit never using the correct terms.
The first we properly notice – fitting, seeing as it is often the most obvious form of abuse – is the physical abuse. Astarions scars are probably the biggest tell Larian could shove down our throats, only underlined by Astarion’s tale about the night itself. About how Cazador ‘misspelled something’ every time he flinched or screamed and had to do ‘many corrections. On top of this, Cazador locked Astarion up for months on end and tortured him – or had him tortured – on a regular basis both as a rite and as a punishment.
Next up, we have the fact that Astarion was forced to basically prostitute himself repeatedly. This is what we call sexual exploitation.
“I spent two hundred years using my body to lure pretty things back for my Master.” – Act 2
Two hundred years is a long time, filled with great many people. Now, we don’t know how many of those people actually tapped into the sexual exploitation and how many he could just lure back with other means, but the fact that it happened a lot is undeniable.
Next we have a form of abuse that we often disregard in adults: Neglect. It sounds odd, I know, saying that a fully grown adult was neglected. They can care for themselves, can they not?
Well. Yes and no.
Adult neglect is proceeded by the condition that one adult has to lean on another adult to fulfil their needs for whatever reason. This could be anything, from disability to income-based issues.
Seeing as Astarion had absolutely nothing, while Cazador had everything, we can assume this was the case. Cazador had the house, the money, the power. Astarion owns but one pair of clothes, assumedly, that he has fixes over and over again. Fair to say, that’s pretty neglectful. (And it’s one more reason to shower the guy in pretty armour and camp clothes. Go ham, people.)
Last we have the form of abuse we actually get to witness later in the game – emotional abuse.
Once again, it’s undeniable that this happened. Especially since we’re all seeing it in the flesh upon meeting Cazador in his crypt.
“Have you no respect for yourself?”
“I strove for perfection in all things. Even those as imperfect as you.”
“A pity you amounted to so little, despite my efforts.”
“A pathetic little boy who never amounted to anything.”
All Act 3, Crypt
Here we have just a few examples of things Cazador throws in his face. It’s like reading a textbook on emotional abuse, this one (and it’s definitely a reason to throw hands).
Blaming the victim, keeping their sense of self and their self-worth as tiny as possible to make them cower and flee. A true classic.
This pretty much shows that Astarion suffered all forms of abuse we commonly see and it is implied – once again by Astarion himself – that at least a few of those instances were ritualistic.
Now, what does that mean exactly? Well, I fear I need to use a real example here, so please skip the next paragraph.
Ritualistic doesn’t refer to a proper ritual – it can, but that’s mostly a thing for those in a cult. So, we’re not necessarily talking about a ‘Vampire Ascendent Ritual’. A husband, beating his wife every evening after his third bottle of beer is also called ritual abuse. It happens regularly. It is part of a routine. Both parties know what will happen.
I can’t find the exact quote, so I’m working of my memory here, but at one point he said that when Cazador invited him to eat and he said yes, he would be served a putrid rat. If he said no, he’d be beaten.
The way it was phrased made it clear that it happened more than once and that Astarion clearly knew what would happen. So, this can be classified as ritualistic abuse.
2. A Note on Conditioning and Compliance
By default, abuse victims are conditioned to behave a certain way or in a certain fashion. This is a natural response to avoid further abuse.
In Astarion, the thing we see most often is his inherent need to please. Not literally, he doesn’t mind being an arsehole. But he initially feels the need to follow Tav’s orders, even if they go against his own wishes.
This can be clearly seen in the conversation with Araj Oblodra. Astarion very clearly doesn’t want to bite her. He doesn’t. But he will do so, if Tav tells him to. This behaviour is not conscious – he doesn’t know why he does it, he just does – and it is to be expected. This is how he kept himself save for two centuries, so of course he will fall back into his usual pattern when the pressure is high.
This goes hand in hand with the fact that most abuse victims don’t fight. Maybe initially, but not after long term abuse. Especially not after two fucking centuries.
This is true in Astarion – offered by his ‘siblings’ during act 3 and unhappily acquiesced by the man himself. Astarion stopped fighting and, once again implied, cowered, and did as he was told in order to survive.
3. The Astarion we know and love
Obviously, all that abuse does have an impact on our vampire boyfriend. He shows various common signs of abuse and just like with the forms of abuse, Astarion raked every coping mechanism he could find. (Not really, but it feels like it.) It’s also important to note that nearly all of the following things happen inwardly. Astarion is not one of the victims, that tries to rationalise and minimise the actions of his abuser. Quite the opposite, actually.
I’ll note from the beginning, that rationalisation will not be covered in this bit, as most examples will be important later on. But he definitely does it.
One of his biggest skills is to hide every ounce of fear or hurt behind sarcasm and snarky theatrics. He doesn’t seem to hide his anger much, though, so that’s something! Our boy is cool with anger, not so much with being afraid.
“Ahahaha, now that you mention it….I might have done…that.” – Act 3, regarding the Gur children
“The thing that will decide my fate forever more? Yeees, it’s been on my miiiind. Why?” – Act 2, regarding the Ritual
And there’s many more instances that prove this. Honestly, half his dialogue is sarcasm, so it would really be too long to get into and we all know what I mean, right? We have alltalked to the guy before. It’s obvious that he’s sarcastic to a fault.
This goes hand in hand with his penchant for defensiveness. I would personally state that he’s simply not really good with guilt. When talking about fear, he usually just opts for sarcasm or avoids the topic completely, but guilt especially has his defences going up. This is also when he’s most likely to shove all the blame off to Cazador.
“Don’t look at me like that. Cazadors orders.” – Act 3, Crypt
“I just did what I had to!” – Act 3, Crypt
And don’t get me wrong, he does that anyway. And with good reason. Astarion didn’t have a choice for the most part, but he’s still easy to shove things off.
This kind of connects to his penchant for denial.
Astarion doesn’t really like to talk about most things. He firmly believes he is an ‘action’ sort of person that just does instead of plans, which invertedly just means he’s great at pushing the thinking stuff away. He also likes to get rid of stuff, so that he doesn’t need to face it ever again.
“I never want to see these little scraps of misery again. The world doesn’t need to know my shame.” – Act 3, about the children
And yes, this partly rings true. He’s probably ashamed and doesn’t want anyone to know what he’s done. But it’s also very clear that he himself simply doesn’t want to face his own actions, something that is just underlined by his extreme willingness to red rid of the other spawn.
As mentioned by Astarion himself, he’s big on manipulation. I mean, I don’t think there is much explaining necessary. The guy is willing to do a whole lot in order to get what he desires – which mostly revolves around safety and survival, to be honest – and he’s not really shy about it either. And that’s despite the fact that he doesn’t really like intimacy – especially in form of sex.
It’s not a secret that Astarion is not big on sex and anything surrounding it. This goes far enough for people to consider him either ace or ace coded.
A claim that, personally, I’m not super in line with.
Now, it’s not entirely wrong and if this is your head cannon I’m surely not going to stand in your way – but on a larger spectrum, I think he’s more traumatised than ace. And while those go hand in hand sometimes, it’s a bit difficult for the ace community if you attach traumatised characters to them because it can fuel a whole lot of stigma that is honestly neither needed nor wanted. But I digress!
If it comes to his own behaviour, he’s great at minimising his mistakes. Honestly, he’s a master of minimisation. A very obvious and famous example would be:
“’Killed’ feels like a…strong word. Not many corpses have your vigour.” – Act 1, after killing Tav
Astarion. You literally sucked poor Tav dry and left them flopping around, cold, and dead. Killed is exactly the right word and we all know it.
“Quite the deviation from my usual routine. Capture, not lure. I didn’t bring them in with sweet rolls or anything.” – Act 3, Gur Children
This is another attempt at minimising what he did, if a bit less obvious because at this point there isn’t much he can say. But at least he didn’t sexualise the gur children, right? They’re still spawn but whoo, at least that didn’t happen.
The next point would be dissociation, which is extremely common in abuse victims – of all forms of abuse.
Astarion himself mentioned certain moments that could be classified as dissociation over course of the story, which is probably the coping mechanism I personally expected the most.
The pale elf has a penchant for violence, but he’s not entirely shameless or abhorrently vile, which gets clearer the more the story progresses. So, two hundred years of forced prostitution, torture and doing whatever other horrible things? Yeah, I’d be more surprised if he didn’t dissociate.
Examples of that would be:
“A moment of disgust to push myself through and then I could’ve carried on, just like before.” – Act 2, after Araj
“I felt nothing the moment I handed them over.” – Act 3, Gur Children
“Did you enjoy it? It felt like you weren’t fully there.” – Act 1, Tav after Sex
The latter is generally more of an assumption than actual prove, but with context it does make sense.
The last common sign of abuse we find in our boyfriend would be his low self-worth. It’s a consistent trait that stays over the course of all three acts, noticeable in many different conversations.
We can see it in his reaction to wanting to break up before finishing his story.
We can see it in his genuine surprise when Tav picks him over any of the other characters.
We see it in his insecurity whenever Tav asks to sleep with another character. He’s fine with it, but he still worries their decision to sleep with someone else is based on something he did.
It eases up ever so slightly after Cazador is dead, but even then he’s still struggling which is once again perfectly illustrated if you try to break up with him.
“Oh shit. I- Did I do something wrong?”
That is the first thing he asks and I think it speaks for itself. He genuinely doesn’t believe he has much to offer and for Astarion, it’s likely that Astarion will always be the problem.
4. "Oh, I tried them all none of them answered.”
Another big thing that’s important to note, is that Astarion was never saved. No one came to save him from Cazador. There was no darling boy on a white steed riding into that castle to rescue him and princess carry him away. Not even the gods answered his desperate calls.
So, he never received any kindness or luck. To him, the world seems as cruel and horrid as before because he didn’t have the chance to experience goodness in two centuries.
But worse than that, he didn’t even get to save himself. Astarion didn’t stand up to Cazador, he didn’t run out of his own might.
He was beaten to near death and ‘saved’ by Cazador, who would become his abuser.
He tried to save someone and, in turn, was locked up and starved for an entire year.
He was abducted by mind flayers, i.e., saved from Cazador, only to end up tadpoled and on the cusp of getting a fancy, squiddy beard.
Anything that’s good, any kindness, any selfless action…it all came with a ginormous price tag.
5. Over the Course of the Story
Astarions behaviour changes a whole lot over the course of three acts – which is important once we talk about his quests climax – so let’s review what we’re working with!
Act 1 Astarion is guarded as fuck. The man has walls around him that are so high, even the gods can touch them.
A lot of his behaviour in act 1 revolves around staying save and staying liked. He lies, manipulates, and flutters his lashes in order to get what he wants and needs. Instead of asking, like Wyll, Karlach and Gale do, Astarion uses all he has to offer to get by. He is still very much in survival mode and tries to weasel his way through an unfamiliar situation with familiar methods.
On top of that, and most notably, he’s absolutely not fond of kindness or selflessness.
#I saved a child and now my boyfriend is mad
Here, we are most likely to gain disapproval for doing the decent thing – unless you sent him outside for a minute whenever you’re being a good person.
And I’d assume that this is because of two things.
First: The very traditional ‘Why not me?’
As I mentioned before, Astarion wasn’t saved. He hasn’t experienced kindness in a very long time so seeing that the world is literally filled with kind people is hurtful. Why didn’t anyone save him? Why was he left to his own devices for so long? Why should he care about others when it’s so clear that no one ever cared about him? No, dead to all of them. If he didn’t get it, neither will they.
“And what am I owed? What about the injustices I suffered? Am I not entitled to anything?” – Act 3, Crypt
“I was in the prime of my life when I was turned. Everything was taken from me too.” – Act 3, Crypt
And secondly is the fact that, as I mentioned, goodness always has a price. And it’s one most people won’t be willing to pay. That’s how his life has been, so why would theirs be different?
This is precisely why Astarion may disapprove of kind actions, but he mostly neither approves nor disapproves if Tav asks for payment. That’s just how the world works.
Once you venture out into act 2, after getting to know him a whole lot more, he starts to mellow a bit – if only towards Tav.
“He’s afraid, so afraid, of everyone but you, who she should fear the most.” – Sceleritas about Astarion
His approval is a lot easier to gain – or at least keep! – and he tends to approve of some more proper actions. He doesn’t throw a fit if you promise to find Mol, he approves of Tav being kind to His Majesty, of saving Aylin and he even approves of Durge apologising to Isobel after threatening to rip her to pieces.
He's slowly starting to open up, allowing Tav to see some parts of him he previously kept hidden. He accepts their offer to help, if hesitantly and, by god, the man starts experimenting with boundaries.
The social worker in me is shedding tears at this. It’s my favourite thing to see in my clients and it’s no different here. Yay to saying no!
Of course, it’s still a bit hit or miss. If Tav urges him to bite Araj, for example, he will only to later notice that he didn’t fucking have to. He recognises this on his own and he calls Tav out on it. Just like he calls them out on not helping him with his Orthon quest.
Good job, chap. Good fucking job.
And the growth-train won’t stop going even as we reach act 3.
In act 3, there’s not many things he disapproves as of right now – those he does, mostly have to do with how Tav treats him and not with anyone else. In fact, he’s more likely to approve good behaviour now, like giving Yenna food or money.
And yes, we need to consider that this could simply be because he gets used to Tav’s behaviour and just learns to roll with it. But it’s also highly likely that he notices that there’s truly good people around. At least one person. And that person is not only good, no, they’re in the process of helping him break free once and for all.
They’re helping him save himself.
By act 3, he has learned that he can absolutely say his piece where Tav is concerned and he’s more likely to disagree with them on certain things. It’s seen during a lot of small dialogue that he’s no longer terribly afraid to be honest with them, willing to listen and talk and he’ll ask for help if he needs it.
“I can do this. But I need your help.” – Act 3, Crypt
Something that can be viewed both positively and negatively is that he’s definitely loyal to a fault. He will stick by Tav’s side, no matter what.
“I really hoped we could avoid being pawns for a dark god, but here we are, I suppose. I’m with you, my dear, wherever this might lead.” – Act 3, After Jaheira confronts durge
As I said, this can be both positive and negative. On one count, it’s a recipe for disaster, seeing as he could be waltzing into a really bad situation for Tav alone.
But on the other side…this is a man who only cared about himself because that is the only person he could afford to care about. He needed to survive. He now has enough room to breathe and the capacity to care for someone else and I’d be inclined to count that as a good thing.
6. The Crypt
All the progress he made in act 2 and 3 is nearly tossed into the wind as soon as the crew enters Cazadors castle.
It’s not an immediate thing, of course.
At first, Astarion tries to stay light and simple and he hides behind flippant tones and relaxed faces. The way he recounts this is almost comically disinterested and the façade is actually quite good.
It’s start’s cracking after we meet Godie, one of the people who tortured him on more than one account, but he mostly manages to remain as upbeat as one can honestly expect for the first half of the journey.
All that, however, is done for the very moment we meet Sebastian. His mask not only slips, no, it full on shatters and there’s none of his apparent lightness left.
Which, of course it does.
The man is suddenly faced with years and years and years of victims. Innocent, unlucky people he lured back to his master over two centuries. People he liked, people he pitied.
“It’s sickening, seeing them again.”
It’s basically a room filled with guilt, exclusively for Astarion. And, as we mentioned before…Astarion is not great with guilt.
The guilt, however, is not where it ends.
No, he’s also faced with reflections of his own past. The spawn pose as reminders of what he did, sure, but also as reminders of what he was.
Weak, desperate, hungry.
There’s an abundance of images of his worst moments, reflected back at him in the thousands. It’s probably like staring into a funhouse mirror, but instead of seeing yourself in a funky way he just sees everything he so desperately doesn’t want to be.
“It should be [who I am]! I don’t want to be like them. They’re pathetic, horrible…”
He’s forcefully made aware of how darn weak he can be, which claws at all the wounds he’s barely had time to close. Something, he of course won’t admit if asked.
“THEY DO NOT [remind me of myself]. That weakness in me is dead, IT’S DEAD. I have a higher purpose.”
The high pressure of the moment brings out all of his act 1 traits in but a few moments. You can pretty much watch how he starts to shut down mid conversation, one of his old walls snapping back into place to remove himself from the situation.
Thing is though, walls usually become a bit brittle after disuse. Especially when talking to a person you don’t usually want to wall out.
Or, in his case, when talking to Tav.
After meeting Sebastian, Astarion shows extreme reactions to Tav nudging any of his weak spots. His reaction varies on whatever choice you make, but it ranges from aggression to defensiveness, to denial and even to downright begging Tav.
“Don’t hate me. I just did what I had to. I swear I did what I had to.”
This probably the most shocking out of all of them, since that is not something we got to witness before. The begging is likely a mixture of intense fear of losing Tav, his low self-esteem and pre-Tav behaviour, since we can assume that Cazador made him beg more than once.
Another old coat he puts back on would also be the least surprising of them all.
Manipulation.
He falls right back into it, using Tav’s affection to get what he want if we trigger the right action.
“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?”
This, to me, was probably the biggest tell that Astarion was back in survival mode. He’s panicking, for fucks sake, and who can blame the guy? He’s back. He’s about to face down his abuser.
Of course he’s fucking panicking.
Panic leads to an increased craving for safety and, in his case, power. This is why he clings to Tav, why he begs them to love him still. And this is why he jumps head first into the rationalisation pool.
“I will need to sacrifice them all if I want to perform the ritual. - [You can save them.] – What’s the point? They're as good as dead! I thought they were dead. If they are unleashed, they will cause incredible carnage. […] They must die. Better they serve a purpose.”
Another textbook example.
They must die anyway. They’re basically dead. No need to save them now. They’re dangerous, I’m doing the right thing by sacrificing them. I already thought they were dead, so it’s not changing anything for me. They’re a lost cause and I deserve all this power. I deserve it, because I suffered and nothing will change if they die.
So, seeing as we already spoke about his usual behaviour in act 3 – behaviour he showed after we allowed him to breathe and be himself for a while – I think we can fairly easily conclude he’s not thinking straight.
Astarion is right back in survival mode, where all that matters is he himself. If it weren’t for the seven thousand spawns, he might have moved through this more gracefully, but seeing those tipped the scales and Astarion is absolutely losing it.
Remember that for the last section, per favore.
7. The Ascension
“Astarion wants to ascend and Tav manipulates him into doing what they want.”
That is basically the essence of what people often claim and I can’t help but shake my head at such a blatant disregard of everything he has become. This is completely ignoring the change and growth he has gone through over the course of their journey.
Astarion wants to be free. He wants to be safe. That does not mean he wants to ascend.
And the claim that Tav manipulates him into doing anything is even more baffling. We are all aware that Tav is not manipulative by nature, yes? That is entirely on you. You decide who your Tav is.
And then let’s remember: Astarion is panicked. He’s afraid and he’s not thinking straight. His abuser is on his knees before him and he still feels so weak. And there’s seven thousand spawns that need handling.
Astarion is very much not okay right now.
In fact, reading his thoughts just proves this theory.
“You can see the fear in his eyes but also the hunger. The thick smell of blood in the air and the promise of power being so close is intoxicating to him. All he can see is the power of the ritual and the freedom that power brings. The freedom to do anything. To be anything.”
Tav, however, has none of those problems. They can actually see beyond the current situation and they are fully aware what the consequences are. Astarion is not. As we previously established, Astarion is a doer. Not a thinker. He didn’t think this through, not at all.
The only thing Tav is doing – the persuasion roll – is reminding him of the very real consequences he is facing. The consequences he hasn’t thought about before.
"I know you think this will set you free, but it won't. This power will trap you, just like it trapped Cazador."
And that is the kindest thing Tav could do in this situation. They’re not bodily dragging him away from Cazador. They’re not even telling him to not do it. They’re just offering him the truth. He can do with that information whatever he desires.
“Astarion cries when he doesn’t ascend, that just shows that it was the wrong choice.”
A hare-brained point that I thankfully have only seen once so far.
That crying? That is healthy crying.
That is him, crumbling under the stress that suddenly dissipates. That is him mourning two hundred years of torment. That’s him letting out feelings he hasn’t been able to for centuries.
And, for the love of god, try to put yourself in his shoes.
Two hundred years of torment, ended in but a moment.
Astarion was abused and tortured for so long, afraid for so long only to see his tormentor die just like that.
Cazador died within a moment and all Astarion needed was a darn blade. Of course he fucking cries.
Seeing how pathetic a being the very core of your life’s misery actually is hurts. It hurts like hell because not only are you finally free – free! – no, you’re faced with the fact that this pile of nothing, the thing that’s bleeding out right in front of you…this was what tortured for so long.
This thing hurt you so much. That guy took everything from you, everything you once were, and broke it again and again and again over years.
You were so scared of this thing.
And yet he has the gall and the gumption to die just like that.
It was so easy.
And yet you suffered for so long.
8. Evil Playthrough?
An evil playthrough is really a different setting altogether.
All of this, as you can probably tell, is really only applicable on a good playthrough. Realistically speaking. I’m not sure how the game mechanics handle it.
On an evil path, Astarion never really gets to experience kindness and goodness. Evil Tav will just prove him right in his believe that the world is a vile and cold place, meaning that he realistically would be more inclined to actually want to ascend.
9. Final Conclusion
I think all of this should be enough to make it clear that no, ascended Astarion is not the best ending for the guy. In fact, it is probably the worst. Because it’s just him, running away. He’s running into a lonely and cold state of being, where cruelty and power lord over everything else and he’s running because he’s terrified of being hurt again. He’s running despite desperately wanting to stop running.
“I'll spend the rest of my life running watching the shadows, never feeling safe…no, this has to happen. Here and now.”
And, the worst part is: Nothing about Astarion is left after he ascends. Even his tone of speaking gradually changes, his theatrics fading. He’s slowly losing himself, until there’s nothing but an evil caricature left.
So, in the end, ascension will have proven him right.
This analysis is wonderful about Astarion’s trauma, but I will never understand why the ascended choice is wrong for him.
Both endings work for Astarion. But when you include Tav (aka you as the player) it becomes “what version works for you” because Astarion (to me) is an immoral/chaotic neutral/lawful evil and if you’re lucky to romance him, he’ll stay be your side regardless if you do a good/neutral/evil play through.
Also, the reason why both endings work is because the main goal is “kill Cazador”. Cazador’s death is the solution or beginning of ending his trauma. The aftermath of those choices, will obviously have different outcomes and behaviors. Everyone overcomes trauma based on what works for them.
As an ascended fan, my reason for choosing that option wasn’t to fix him and help him overcome his trauma because that will always be there, but because that’s something he wanted. Also, even though you can persuade him not to ascend, you have to make sure your intent/reason for not ascending him isn’t just for your own moral benefit because that’s when it turns into manipulation/coercion, which is hard to do in irl.
But overall both choices are good for Astarion if you’re romanizing him (I don’t care if it for evil or good play through because went the good chaotic good/true neutral route as non/durge).If you’re playing as him…then it’s up for debate.
Hey there! Great to get a pro-Ascension point of view in here, I loved seeing how you view ascended Astarion. I hope you don't mind me hopping onto your reply to offer up some more babbling.
(And please, don't take this as me berating you or correcting you, that is never my intention. I'm really just a slut for healthy discussions!)
I do absolutely agree with you that both ways work for Astarion, and both endings make sense in their own right. And I do, in fact, like the ascended ending exactly for what it is - the bad ending, where we couldn't save him. I wouldn't even go as far as calling it the "wrong" ending either, because it's really not a question of right and wrong. It's truly more a question of good and bad. And if we go by that, ascension is the bad ending for him. Because, and I think a lot of people forget this, Astarion doesn't just "ascend". He becomes the vampire ascendant. That means he turns into a true vampire and ascends. He's basically a Vampire+ now, and that is an important factor in how we should regard ascension.
To see why, I think we need to look at how DnD (and, in turn, bg3) treats vampires, since it's less the type of vampire we see in modern popculture. As in, less Damon Salvatore and more Dracula.
In DnD, true vampires are deeply twisted beings. Everything that was once lively and pure about the person dies upon, well, death. Their needs turn into physical cravings, and overall, they want but one thing: power. They want a lair, spawn, and people they can own and control.
"Friends" are mostly no longer close, beloved people that you trust and care for. With vampires, it's more likely that they view their friends as something "useful". They can use their affection to get them to help and support them. There's also likely to be envy or jealousy towards what was formerly considered a friend (and personally, I wouldn't put it past them to turn their friends into spawn as some form of power play).
Love is similarly twisted since it's no longer the deep feeling of love we know. Love for vampires is a heavy, dark obsession. They don't love and care for a person any longer, they just want to have them; to own them, and to play with them until they're bored of them.
Stradh von Zarovich is a perfect example here. His obsession is a woman called Tatyana. A woman he couldn't have in life or death, that he is still so obsessed with that he later tries to kill and turn another woman, Ireena, into his spawn consort, simply because she looks exactly like Tatyana and he believes that she is Tatyanas reincarnation. (She may or may not be, but Stradh doesn't have definite proof of that.)
That behaviour can be seen in ascended Astarion as well. He wants to own Tav, and he will take them by force if given the option. And to him, Tav is no longer considered an equal either. Sure, he still talks like they are, but his true opinion slips through every now and again if you listen close enough. He constantly puts himself above them and he makes it very clear that they'll be nothing but his consort.
Tav will sit beside him as he rules. Nothing more.
Taking all this into account, we can already sort of make out why ascended Astarion is the bad ending.
Ascended Astarion is no longer Astarion. He looses himself - or rather: he throws himself away - because he's deeply deeply terrified of being hurt. Astarion craves safety and believes he will find it as the vampire ascendant.
And maybe he will.
Vampires are already hard enough to kill.
But he'll find it only at the cost of his own person.
This is also where the crux of the argument "Astarion wants to ascend" lies.
It is true that Astarion thinks he wants to ascend.
But he is, as I said originally, blinded by fear.
Astarion is deeply afraid of being abused further, for obvious reasons, and he thinks the only way he'll find peace and solace is as a true vampire - or, better even, the vampire ascendant. He doesn't think about the consequences of his actions or where his path will lead him, he just thinks about safety. Survival.
Ascension is his form of running away. Astarion is running, and he is running hard from something he probably can't explain, and the finish line is "safety" aka "ascension".
Tav can now choose to either take him by the hand and show him what exactly he is running towards - that where he sees safety, others see loneliness; where he sees solace and warmth, others see nothing but cold emptiness - or they can let him keep on running.
If they choose the latter, Astarions fear wins. It overpowers him, drowns him, and Astarion is no more.
He is safe, but he's lost all he once was in the process.
Is that the wrong choice? Not necessarily. Right and wrong are deeply nuanced labels that everyone will view differently.
But is it the bad choice? Very likely, yes. And not only that - it's an extremely sad choice as well.
To me, letting Astarion ascend feels like I'm giving up on him. Like I'm showing him that he himself is not enough and that he needs ascension to live a happy, safe life.
And yes, that is very likely the social worker in me crying because we could've helped him get better without this. We could have helped him save himself. But after ascension, he's beyond our grasp, and all we can do is watch shit go down eventually.
No matter how chaotic things got you two have always been there for each other
And now here you were, building a village with him
You had everything you wanted; a home, a family, a bed to sleep in everyday, a growing community you could always rely on
And Alucard. You had Alucard.
Mornings you woke up before him, you couldn’t help but watch him sleep
Not in a creepy way of course
But just watch, noticing how peaceful and happy he looked, the way his hair laid across his face.
You knew you were beyond lucky
And he’d wake up. His golden eyes would flutter open and he’d look at you, his cheeks a rosy pink with a small tired smile on his lips
“Good morning sweetheart~” Alucard would mumble quietly, and your hand would reach out to cup his cheek, brushing his hair out of the way.
“Good morning~” you’d press a kiss against his forehead while Alucard’s arms brought you in closer, pulling you close to his chest and not letting go for a bit
You loved those mornings when you both could take your time getting out of bed, when there wasn’t a huge mission or monster you had to defeat
The castle was always so very busy, villagers going in and out, collecting resources from the woods or lakes, training in self defense, grabbing a plate to eat from the kitchen, etc etc
When you and Alucard made your way outside, the sight always made your heart flutter
People getting along, children running around and giggling, everyone helping one another
Aaaand then there was Trevor and Sypha, bickering near the wood supply, which was a daily occurrence (the bickering, not the bickering near the wood supply).
“The wood has to be stacked up evenly or it’s all gonna fall down~” Sypha would sigh as she swaddled baby Simon on her hip.
Trevor rolled his eyes. “Trust me, I know how to stack wood—oh look, the little lovebirds are up, go critique how they stack their wood~” he’d gesture over to you and Alucard.
“Oh Trevor Belmont, you’re gonna get it I swear~”
Even though the two had a little one to take care of now, Sypha and Belmont always found the time to hang with you guys.
You guys would gather around the table in the kitchen, joking and giggling over scotch or wine, whatever you guys felt like having that night
Greta often joined these gatherings when she wasn’t patrolling or when she had gotten back from trading with another village
It was always nice to just sit back and relax, not think of much but appreciate every minute that past with the ones you loved
Eventually you’d all retreat to your rooms during the wee hours of the night.
Trevor, a drunken mess, was guided up the stairs by his wife and Greta, who both cursed beneath their breaths how heavy he was.
You and Alucard, both a little buzzed, would make your way up to your quarters of the castle.
Of course the two of you wouldn’t quite make it there though
You’d stop Alucard in his tracks, pressing him against the wall and kissing him, your fingers tangled up in his hair while your hips pressed along his
He’d shudder, nails scratching at the shirt on your back, kissing you in return and running his tongue along your lips.
“Y-Y/n, perhaps we should…a-ah!” the dhampir would gasp out as your mouth made its way down his neck and collarbones, one hand on his waist as the other held Alucard’s thigh on your hip.
When it came to sex or situations like these, Adrian never really had a preference as to whether he was on the top or bottom, he loved both and usually just followed your lead.
“We should what?” You’d growl against his cold skin, dragging your teeth along his jugular.
“W-We should continue this in the bedroom, it’s only down the hall—!” He’d yelp out as you bit down on his shoulder, but not hard enough to draw blood. He loved when you were handsy and dominant, it made Alucard simply melt.
“What? Afraid someone’s going to hear us?” You tease as your fingers danced across his crotch, making him tense up. “Maybe I want them too”
You slid down onto your knees, your long fingers fiddling around with his trousers
Alucard’s head went fuzzy while he stared down at you with lust filled eyes, a ringing in his ears
Fuck….you were so hot
The way you pulled his already hard member out and ran your tongue against his tip, sliding it up and down the underside of his shaft….
He bit down on his finger to stop himself from moaning, his hand coming down and resting on the back of your head as you draped his left leg over your shoulder.
“Fuck, Y/n–mmf!” His head fell back, his pretty, long blonde locks falling over his chest and shoulders as it rose and fell quickly.
You took him deeply into your mouth, letting his thick head rub at your throat, bobbing your head up and down and soaking his member with your saliva
Alucard’s cheeks were bright red while he squirmed against the wall, his hips twitched and bucked with need, sliding his shaft in and out of your mouth, nails scratching at your scalp.
His legs were shaking now, your hand sliding up and down his stomach and chest, your warm fingers pressing against his sensitive nipples and making the poor dhampir whine out. Fuck, you loved every single sound.
Your hand went up his leg as you sucked him off and grabbed his backside roughly, your tongue sliding around the base of his cock.
Oh god those eyes, he couldn’t stop staring at your eyes—
That tipped him over the edge, Alucard’s muscles tensed up and his hips pushed forward, you felt him come undone in your mouth as a strangled moan escaped from his throat.
You slowed down till you stopped and pulled back, wiping your lips of any *ahem* liquids
Alucard, unable to stand any longer, slid down the wall and sat on the ground in front of you, a panting, very flushed mess with a dazed look in his eyes.
You couldn’t help but chuckle, brushing a hand against his cheek, smiling quite contently
Ah yes, he’d get back at you for this eventually, you knew he would, but for now, he just grabbed at your face and kissed you with all the passion and energy he could muster up.
Aha, this was suppose to be fluff but it turned into smut, oopsies, I thought it was pretty good thooooo. I hope you all enjoyed, like, comment and reblog babes🥰🥰
Among other things in my clean-out-drafts is a sh!tpost figure skating script, but I can’t draw it for the life of me and really the commentary is just better served as text on pics of the lords in fantastic figure skating outfits. Please if someone wants to draw them in ridiculous glittery bodysuits tag me ANYWAY here is a portion of it
Matsuko: Well folks it is a BEA-U-TI-FUL day here at Divine Rule Stadium, where we are getting ready for the free skate portion of the Sengoku Skate Classic! I’m Matsuko—
Umeko: I’m Umeko, and we are here to dish the dirt on our twelve contenders. Who has the best costume? The most rockin’ song choice? The tightest tush?
Matsuko: We may even talk about their technique.
Umeko: …A little! Maybe!
Matsuko: First to skate is the master of the triple axel, triple konpei-toe-jump, Oda Nobunaga!
Umeko: Our boy had a supes controversial program back at the Enryaku-ji, and he really just…well doesn’t exactly ever do the same program twice.
Matsuko: His poor choreographer
Umeko: Nobunaga does what Nobunaga wants
Matsuko: Speaking of–
Umeko: OMG is that jump even legal?
Matsuko: Don’t know! Don’t care! The judges are afraid of him anyway!
This was the “standardized” origin story for Jinpachi. As the story goes, as a child, Jinpachi was travelling around the country with his father. When his father died, he joined the pirates to survive and was so good at it that he eventually became their captain. Yukimura, serving Hideyoshi at the time, was ordered to investigate a certain clan’s navy. Somehow Yukimura found Jinpachi and his pirates, and took him in. He then serves in the Navy.
The Sanada Ten are not actually real people. They’re characters made up for Edo-era historical novels about the Sanada family, which ended up becoming popular among the masses. If you were to imagine Western equivalents, it would be something like Robin Hood and the merry men, or King Arthur and his knights. There might have been real people who inspired the characters, but the stories eventually has nothing to do with the original facts.
There is actually “Netsu/Nedzu” clan in that general area, and there had been someone surnamed that who also served Shingen. He’s just not named Jinpachi, or is a part of any “group of ten”. It’s even debatable if this Netsu/Nedzu person ever served the Sanada at all. There is a Sanada clan website that seems to be fan-made, and they alledged that this person served Masayuki. Wikipedia’s entry said this person served Shingen, and only associated with Sanada due to being co-workers.
Over the years the exact members of the 10 change around depending on who was writing or telling the story. The “standardized” version of the members and their backstories actually was pretty new, appearing in 1910s-1920s. A publisher, Tachikawa Bunko, released a series of some 190 storybooks about famous figures of history and legend. Among which are the Sanada Ten as a group, and separate volumes highlighting Sasuke and Saizo specifically.
”Sanada Ten Braves/Warriors” is even a modern-ish term coined by Tachikawa Bunko, not at all a historical term used by the Edo-era precursors.
Prompt: Based on the anniversary cards Cybird released + art.
Warnings: Trauma mention, slight spoilers to his route?
Word count: -1K
Original pic | Translation | Masterlist
Underneath that layer of happiness there was cynicism, a disbelief that there was acceptance and unconditional love. That there was such a thing as love for him who wasn’t happy within.
Soulmates wasn’t something Keiji believed in, for that meant unconditional love, for that meant acceptance and for that suggested embracing his whole nature including the parts he felt ashamed of.
When he saw that your fate was tied to his, Keiji had thus shrugged it off. Ignoring it as if it didn’t exist, hoping that it was a mistake of the world to give him such hope. Expecting that you would forget about it soon enough and give up.
You reached for the doorknob of your shared apartment, key turning slowly as you went to step inside. Feet aching after the long day at work, you passed through the doorway, excited to greet your lover but instead being met with a puff of white smoke. Your hand shot up to cover your mouth as a cough ripped through your chest. You dared to trudge deeper into the apartment, kicking your heels off and leaving the door ajar— in hopes that the smoke would disperse to hopefully at least restore some of your vision.
You felt around the room blindly, cautiously walking to avoid stubbing your unsuspecting toes against any chair legs or counter corners.
You spotted him there— amid the smoke— white hair blending in all so perfectly. That dense mist-like smoke creating an eerie feel of mystery and danger, perfect to disguise the mischievous fox within. You couldn’t help but think it suited him.
You sauntered up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and standing up onto the very top of your tippy toes to peek over his shoulder to see the absolute disaster he was creating. “Whatcha making there love?” you asked curiously, giving him a loving peck on the cheek.
Mitsuhide turned around, a snakelike smile plastered across his features as if there was nothing out of the ordinary— as if he wasn’t there setting your house on fire with his culinary train smash.
He expertly evaded the question— master of avoidance and deception— or so he liked to claim—standing in front of the smoking mess, to shield it from your prying eyes. “Welcome home, my dearest mouse,” he beamed, holding your cheeks hostage between his hands to keep your eyes focused solely on him.
To humour him or not to humour him, that is the question?
Making your choice, you ducked down around him, shaking your head at the scene in front of you. “What in the world? Are you trying to imitate your latest investigation?” you teased, shooting him a playful little grin over your shoulder.
“It’s nothing to be concerned with, my dearest; now pray tell how your day has been,” he hummed out, trying once more to distract you with hands falling onto your hips, nuzzling his nose against you lovingly.
“My day,” you started, sparing the dodgy pan a final glance before turning to shrug off your coat as you took up residence atop a nearby kitchen counter. “ Was busy as usual, nothing to write home about,” you reported nonchalantly.
It was a long and tedious day, filled with the usual work, politics and chaos, certainly not the most ideal way you wanted to spend your birthday. On the contrary, you wanted nothing more than to spend your birthday at home, with Mitsu. Guilt tugged at your heart when you thought back to the morning— being greeted with soft cuddles and golden eyes filled with a dazzling glint of excitement at the prospect of a day off. He rarely got time off, and your heart sank even further, knowing the amount of effort and strings that needed to be pulled to allow it. Yet alas, the universe had different plans for you, as shortly after hearing out all the thrilling plans he had made, you had gotten a call summoning you into work.
“Whiskey?” you sighed out, breaking the comfortable silence that fell between the two of you. Without waiting for an answer, you reach across the counter to take hold of the whiskey bottle and two glasses. You poured the golden liquid into the glasses, adding a few ice cubes before holding one out towards Mitsuhide.
“My, are you certain you would not like to write home about your day? The stiff drink certainly is telling, mouse”, he teased with amusement and hints of concern, swishing the knife in the air casually before cutting up some onions and throwing it with the unidentified contents of the still smoking pan.
“Would you write back if I do,” you met his tease with a tired smile, handing him his drink and clicking your glass with his.
Mitsuhide simply shook his head, chuckling while taking a sip of the golden rye. “If your heart desires it, little one, now wash up. Dinner shall be ready momentarily,” he nodded, turning back the pan and adding some water from the kettle with brows furrowed in concentration, causing even more smoke to rise up.
You hummed contently, hopping off the counter, changing from your work clothes into your PJs— not wanting to linger too long; after all, you did want a kitchen to come back to. You crossed the threshold of the dining room only to see Mitsuhide set out two bowls onto the dining table with a proud smirk plastered across his face.
You swallowed, preparing yourself for the horror that was the meal you were to eat. Making your way closer, you inspected the bowl of goo with wide eyes. “So what do we have on the menu tonight chef,“ you asked, slipping into your seat—hoping to delay the inevitable as long as possible.
Mitsuhide shrugged and booped your nose in response, “just a simple meal made with love.”
You hummed, picking up a fork —ooh, you could not bring it over your heart to take a bite— so instead, you just moved the food around in the bowl like a fussy child at dinner time.
“Gracious, you’re not even touching your food, my love. Here, shall I help you.”
He scooped up a healthy helping of the sludge-like substance onto a spoon and held it out for you to taste. Your lips pursed, eyes narrowing at its contents. What in the 7 hells was this supposed to be? He brought the spoon closer to your lips, leaning forward to rest his chin on his other hand.
“Come now, little one, how are you to grow into a mighty mouse if you don’t eat the special birthday meal your husband lovingly prepared for you, hmm."
“I don’t think I will grow at all if I eat that; if anything, I think death will be imminent,” you quipped back.
“My my, how you wound me so, if you keep rejecting me, I may very well just burst into tears,” Mitsuhide sighed out dramatically, bringing his hand over his heart in mock hurt— yet the way his golden eyes shone told you he was anything but hurt.
“Fine! Fine!” you finally huffed out, turning your face back, wrapping your hand around his to bring the spoon to your mouth. Only a little taste, you thought with a gulp. You stopped short of your lips, praying to any and every god that you would be spared from the horrors of food poisoning.
Oh, how he tried, it warmed your heart, really it did, but the culinary genius inside you was screaming. Finally, you closed your lips around the spoon, letting the flavours coat your tongue; whatever it was, it was beyond fixing, so much so that you could almost hear Gordon Ramsay’s comments of the meal echoing in your head. Of course, the texture would be fine, Mitsuhide could execute that part well enough, but the taste, GOD, the flavour was a dead giveaway of a certain someone’s taste or rather lack thereof.
You swallowed the contents, trying to school your features into a carefree smile, only the delicate muscles of your face had not gotten the memo, instead pulling into a sour, scrunched up expression. “Mmm, this is great,” you managed to get out, sounding far less sincere than you had meant it to.
Mitsuhide, on the other hand, burst into a fit of cackling laughter. You realized then, you had been played. The cackling continued even after you narrowed your eyes, sending him an icy glare,” oh dearest, this is precisely why I love teasing you so.”
You crossed your arms and turned your face away with a ‘Hmpf.’
He tried to get your attention, but each time you turned away with a huff. “Has a cat caught my darling wife’s tongue,” came the amused words from the man you loved so dearly as he curled a stray lock of your hair around his fingers.
You dared to cautiously sneak a glance at him, only to see a broad grin littered with mischief. You quickly turned your face away once more, fearing he might see straight past your pouting facade. With mischief marrying his eyes, his hands moved toward your sides to tickle you mercilessly, “perhaps I shall use my skills as a detective to get you talking.”
You held out as long as you could, but the ticklish sensation caused laughter to bubble from your chest, “M-Mitsu s-stop, -stop,” uncontrollable laughter wasn’t the only sound to file into the room as your stomach let go of a large growl in hunger.
Of course, you had not eaten all day and, that, whatever it was, was less than satisfying to the taste buds.
Mitsuhide continued to chuckle as he shook his head, pulling out his phone to give it a sparring glance, “truly you amuse me to no end, my love.”
He leaned forward to kiss the tip of your nose while gracefully swooping up the unfinished bowl of goop. Taking elegant strides back to the kitchen, he shot you a smile from over his shoulder, “the pizza should be here soon,” the confession finally came.
Jumping from your seat, you ran after him. “You massive troll!” you accused, rolling your eyes and reclaiming your spot on the countertop to wait for the ACTUAL food to arrive while watching him clean his mess.
“How you flatter me so,” he purred out, slithering closer to you. That earned him another roll of the eyes, yet, you still found yourself inching closer to rest your forehead against his as you exchanged loving smiles. He met your soft lips in a fleeting kiss, then, hand coming up to cradle the back of your head.
“Happy birthday, my dearest,” was all he said, planting one more kiss onto your lips. You felt him slip something into your hair, and before you could question, his phone rang, causing him to turn on his heel and attend to it.
With a dazzling smile, you gazed upon the bellflower pin he had placed into your hair. His features softened as he matched your smile with one full of love for you. One thing was for sure, Mitsuhide may be an incorrigible tease, but you knew when it came down to it, he loved you with all his heart.
continuing the tradition of drawing my birthday twin for the second year in a row!!
happy birthday, dear Yoshimoto, i hope your route comes to us soon~ ヽ(´ ヮ`)ノ 💙🎉
if you wanna see a short timelapse of this piece, check out my twitter @/aaviavv!
A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfic, approx. 1900 words. This scene occurs after the romantic epilogue. Fluff! Some spice and violence.
First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden
Previous: Adrift
Mitsuhide had to admit that leggings were an excellent western import. From this vantage, he could admire his beloved’s legs, the curve of her hip, the rise of her -
“Eyes. Are. Up. Here.” She grinned. “I am feeling very appreciated but I’m worried you’re going to walk into a pole.”
“I would never.” Mitsuhide huffed. He was perfectly capable of admiring his fiancée and watching his step. Though he had to admit the addition of traffic lights, billboards, cars and bikes, and the rush of city sounds made it a little more difficult. But she was right. He needed to focus on other things. Less pleasant, to be sure, but necessary.
So far, he’d learned how to ride a train, though he found the maps difficult to read. And how to find and secure food and drink - not that different from his time. How to walk through the city, which wasn’t a skill he’d ever considered.
Mitsuhide had a newfound respect for his little mouse. To have come from this world into his, where so many things were entirely different . . . and she’d adapted beautifully. He could do no less for her. “So where is it that we should go next?”
She smiled and ran a finger down his chest. “I was thinking we need to get you some clothes. Something that fits better.”
“And looks better. This ‘t-shirt’ is ridiculous.” Mitsuhide frowned down at the blue hedgehog.
“Hm, yeah. If I was going to pair you with a game character, it wouldn’t be that one. I think . . . maybe . . . Redd.” She laughed. “Although I can’t imagine you as a shopkeeper fox, even a tricky one.”
Mitsuhide had no idea what she meant. “I’d prefer clothing with no little animals on it in any color.”
“Don’t worry. I wasn’t thinking about t-shirts. Let’s go try some things on.” She led him to a shop that was so large, it was almost a castle. There were three floors, bright lights, glass displays. She quietly explained what things were as they walked, without him needing to ask.
There were aisles of hanging clothes, all ready-made. His little mouse stopped at each of these, checking the various shirts, pants, vests, and jackets. None of them looked much like what Mitsuhide was used to wearing but he trusted her to pick well. Eventually she had a stack of outfits chosen that she thought would fit him.
They picked up a number from an attendant and headed to the dressing room. She hung the number on a hook beside the curtain and then handed him the clothes. “Go try these on and let me know what you like.”
“You aren’t coming in to help me?” Mitsuhide only half-meant it. He was fairly sure he could figure out the ties, clasps, and buttons of these modern clothes on his own.
Her eyes went wide and her mouth opened in soundless protest. He could see her thinking of all the reasons she wasn’t supposed to follow him into the changing room going through her mind.
He laughed. “It’s against the rules and they might ban us from this place?”
“Then you knew!” She smacked his arm.
“There is a sign-” He pointed behind her to the posting that read ‘1 person per room’ and laughed again when she turned to look at it. “Just wait for me here.”
She sighed. “You always manage to tease me. I’ll get you back though. Wait and see.”
“I dream of the day.” He pulled the curtain shut and set about figuring out these complicated items he was supposed to wear.
It took longer than he expected to try on the five different sets of clothes his little one chose for him. There were all sorts of buckles, different types of buttons. Something she laughingly called majikkuteepu - velcro - which held cloth together as if it was pasted in place, until you pulled it open. And zippers. Pinching, sticking, little metal rows of teeth. He didn’t like those at all. But after an interminable amount of time in the small, curtained room, he picked out three outfits.
One he decided to wear now. Heather grey pants and a lilac shirt, with a matching grey vest and a gold tie. It was nothing like his usual clothes, and yet it felt . . . familiar. He had dark grey shoes to wear with it, and a belt of the same material. When he stepped out wearing it, his beloved smiled.
That look made all his struggles in the dressing room worth it.
“You look fantastic!” She clapped her hands together.
“My soon-to-be-wife has excellent taste.” He leaned down and kissed her.
They left the shop with several bags. Mitsuhide carried them as they walked. “What exciting vista will you show me next, little mouse?”
“Well . . . I was thinking we could get lunch?”
Mitsuhide chuckled. “My little one is always hungry.”
She pouted. “I am not! But it is past lunchtime and -” her stomach grumbled.
“Always.” He grinned.
With singular determination, she ignored his teasing. “Hm, what kind of food should we try? There’s western food from a dozen different places. Modern Japanese too.”
“Wherever you like.” He didn’t remind her that he couldn’t taste - that it wouldn’t matter. But she remembered anyhow.
“I wish I could pick something you would like.” Her frown was adorable, he thought.
“Little one, pick something you like. Something you’ve missed. I will enjoy watching you enjoy it.” Mitsuhide smiled, encouraging her. He truly did enjoy watching her eat. The way she savored her food, with that little satisfied smile.
She sighed. “Alright.” For a long moment, she was thoughtful, then her expression brightened. “I know! We can get some curry!”
Mitsuhide wasn’t sure what that was, but her smile was the important thing.
The two of them left the wide, sunlit street to cut through a narrow alley. Tall buildings rose to either side of them, all stone and glass, blocking the sun. It wasn’t that different from his own time, he thought, even if the buildings were taller and the garbage collecting in the corners was of different substance.
There were three young men leaning against the wall at the far end of the alleyway. Mitsuhide recognized the tense, false postures of relaxation, the pretend disregard and arrogance. These men were trouble.
“Little mouse . . .” He reached for her, but realized it was too late. Even as his fingers curled around her arm and she came to a stop, the men at the alley’s end were straightening. Looking their way with wide, self-assured smirks.
One of them whistled discordantly. His eyes traveled up the chatelaine’s body, slow and considering. “I like this delivery girl. She’s cute.”
“What didja bring us,” another said. He reached a hand toward Mitsuhide and the bags.
It was easy to move aside from the slow grab.
The third man chuckled. “Hey, grandpa. No need to be shy. You can put all that down and head out the way you came in.”
“You can leave your wallet and phone behind too,” said the one grabbing for the bags.
“H-hey! Leave us alone!” Mitsuhide’s little one was putting on her brave face. “I-if you need some food or something, we can help you. But I’m not just going to let you rob us.”
The whistler smiled widely. “Oh? I need something alright. And it’s not just your money. But I’ll take that too.” His hand landed on her shoulder, thumb against her throat.
She slapped him. Her hand left a red print on the man’s cheek.
He pushed her back against the wall.
Or he started to. Mitsuhide saw white. A flash of rage, brilliant and extreme. He slammed the bag-grabbing man with the packages. The man fell and tangled in bags and clothes. The one that called him grandpa went down with a kick to the stomach. Then he was on the whistler.
Mitsuhide grabbed the whistler by the back of his clothes and pulled him roughly away from his fiancee. Then he grabbed his arm and twisted it back, palm up, almost to the point of snapping bones.
The man - really a boy - screamed.
“You are lucky I left my blade in the apartment,” Mitsuhide said quietly. “Or you would all be holding your guts.”
The bag-grabber was almost free and trying to stand. “Whoa. You some kind of bodyguard or something? I never saw anybody move so fast.”
“Yeah, grandpa! You got moves,” wheezed the one he had kicked.
Mitsuhide twisted the arm of the man he held a little higher, enough to hear the bones creak. “Why are you bothering us? Who do you work for?”
The one he held whimpered. “W-we don’t work for anyone, man.”
“So you are bandits. Robbing young girls and . . . old men. Do you know what I do to such men?” Mitsuhide smiled his crescent moon grin.
“Don’t kill them. We can just call the police.” His little mouse was straightening her clothes.
Mitsuhide frowned. “Did he hurt you?”
“Not really. He just surprised me.” She rubbed her shoulder. “Probably not even a bruise.”
“I’m really sorry,” the one Mitsuhide held whined.
“Yeah, grandpa. We’re real sorry. We know to leave you alone now. How ‘bout you just let us go on our way.”
The grabbing one started picking up the bags and stuffing clothes back into them. “See? All fixed. We can just -”
“I don’t think so.” Mitsuhide glared at them. “You will go on to rob someone else. Someone less capable of stopping you.”
“S-so what are you gonna do to us?” The one he held started to cry.
Mitsuhide knew he could call these city guards his love recommended, but he suspected such a move would complicate things. Guards wanted to know who everyone was, what they were doing there. They may have questions he didn’t wish to answer. But letting the young men go was no solution. They’d continue to do bad things to no purpose.
“I have a proposition for you.” He beckoned the two young men closer. “Since you are lawless and without a lord, I will take you under my wing. You will work for me.”
“Mitsuhide?” His little mouse looked surprised.
The young men needed only a moment to exchange looks between them. Then the whistler nodded. “Alright. We can do that. What do you want us to do?”
Mitsuhide let go of him and waited while he checked his arm and flexed his hand. Then he gave them instructions.
They looked mildly surprised, but took the money he offered them and gave their ‘numbers’ in return. Then they left.
“Hopefully they show up like they said they would.”
“They will.” Mitsuhide gently pulled his little one close for a hug. Then he pulled her shirt off her shoulder to check it. The skin was a little red, but there was no lasting mark. Good.
She held still while he looked her over. “If they don’t, then you pretty much just paid them to go away.”
“If they were the hard men they pretend to be, you would be right. But they are young and looking for a purpose. A place. I have given them the illusion of that.” He smiled. “If we are here long enough, perhaps more than an illusion.”
Her stomach grumbled loudly. They both started laughing.
“We should go get your curry before the beast in your belly leaps out.” Mitsuhide ruffled her hair.
She grinned bashfully. “Stress makes me hungry?”
Mitsuhide shook his head. “You were already hungry before that.” He collected their bags and continued on.
A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfiction - approx. 2200 words. This scene takes place post-romantic epilogue. Fluff and a little spice.
First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden
Previous: Adrift
Kyubei watched the innkeeper through narrowed eyes. Though the man was clearly nervous, he didn’t seem to be lying. His story hadn’t changed in the last three tellings, so either he was an accomplished liar or he was telling the truth.
“L-lord Akechi and the woman left with one of the Akechi warriors. Right after we saw the fire across the lake,” the innkeeper said for the fourth time. “Then the storm came and after that, no one saw him.”
“Do you remember anything else? Did anyone else come in after they left? Did you see anyone acting strangely?”
The man shook his head. “No, I mean, not really? Everyone was a bit strange after we saw the blaze. Wondering if Azuchi was still standing.” He frowned. “You think it might have been Lord Akechi? Him disappearing like that right after -”
Kyubei cut him off. “No. That was the work of the Mouri clan.” It wasn’t the first person he’d spoken with that suspected. And why wouldn’t they? Mitsuhide was only just back from his misadventure at the shogun’s side. An ally in disgrace. A man not to be trusted.
The worst part of all this was that Kyubei really had no idea what his lord wanted him to do. Should he quash the rumors? Encourage them? Mitsuhide’s instructions from his last letter said nothing about an attack on Azuchi - not like this - and nothing about disappearing. Of course, he pretended like he knew exactly what was going on. He had to, until he received additional instructions.
“So . . . am I free to go?” The innkeeper was frowning now. His nervousness replaced by a desire to get back to making money at the inn.
“For now,” Kyubei said. He gave the man a hard stare. “If I need anything else, I will send someone for you.”
The innkeeper bowed and left, leaving Kyubei alone with his thoughts. It really seemed that in the storm, his lord had simply vanished into thin air. And Miyake too.
Perhaps they'd left with Ranmaru, who was also missing. But if so, there would be a letter. A message. Something!
The castle staff had no idea where he was - they’d waited for him to return for hours. Miyake’s squad couldn’t find their commander either. Both men were expected.
And the chatelaine . . . his lady. Kyubei worried that he had failed to protect her again.
***
Morning came with pale light through a high window. It fell across four careworn, sleeping faces. Sasuke and Miyake lay in a tangle of blankets on the floor, and in a bed, Mitsuhide clung to his little mouse. He woke with the first notes of bird-song, but kept his eyes shut. He wasn’t ready to confront the strange world of 500 years in the future just yet.
His little one stirred in his arms as the sound of morning birds turned into a hum of outside activity. “Is it . . . are we really . . .” She opened her eyes and looked around Sarutobi’s flat. “We’re really here.”
Mitsuhide nodded.
“I want to be happy about it, but . . .”
He shushed her with a kiss. “It will be fine. Worrying won’t return us faster.”
She sighed and buried her face against his chest. “I know. I just hope everyone is alright.”
“They will be,” Mitsuhide reassured her. He didn’t think of it as a lie - simply an assumption he based on his past experience. Nobunaga would handle this threat as he did others that came before it.
And Kyubei would see to what the left hand needed to be doing.
Sasuke sat up, rubbing his face. “I apologize for the accommodations,” he told them. The same apology he’d given the night before.
“At least we had somewhere to sleep.” The chatelaine sat up and wiggled out of the blanket. “I should probably check on my flat and see if it’s still mine. If so, we won't have to impose on you a second night. Although,” she sighed. “I don’t have my ID or my keys or anything.”
“I don't mind,” Sasuke replied. “You are welcome to continue crashing here. Although, we may not be here for long. Weren’t there activities you wanted to do in this time? While you can?” His left eyebrow lifted almost imperceptibly.
Mitsuhide gave her one of his slow, warm smiles. His fingers traced a path down her spine. “Yes, you did mention some things I would like to see, since we are here.”
His little mouse arched like a cat against his hand. “I did . . . yes. Alright. Since we’re here, we might as well try to enjoy it!”
Miyake rolled over on the floor and pulled the blanket over his head.
“I take it that means you plan to stay here for the day?”
Sasuke answered for the half-asleep warrior. “Actually, I would really appreciate it if Miyake would accompany me. I need to go to my university and make some arrangements.”
Miyake groaned and sat up. He blinked as his gaze went around the room, taking in all the strange objects. Finally, he settled on the ninja. “You need protection or something?”
“No. I don’t think anyone will attack me.” Sasuke felt around for his glasses and slid them on. “But I expect to be moving some heavy equipment in the lab. And I may have a friend who can help us out with those arrangements, if you're there to corroborate my story.”
“Corr what?” Miyake frowned.
“Authenticate. Like a two factor security key.” The ninja grinned.
The warrior looked to Mitsuhide uncertainly.
“If Sarutobi believes you can assist him today, then that is what you will do. I am sure my fiancée and I will be fine.”
The chatelaine looked less certain about this, but she nodded agreement.
The four of them took turns dressing in the ‘washroom’ to give each other privacy. His morning was one of surprise as the . . . toilet . . . squirted him with water. And warm or cold water came from a metal spigot at the turn of a handle too, spilling into a porcelain basin. There were more smokeless lanterns - electric lights they were called - and other wonders.
Had Mitsunari been there, he was sure the scholar could have spent weeks studying every device but Mitsuhide just needed to know how to use it.
In this place, he was the naïve child, and his little one, the wise teacher. Such a shift in their positions was hard to take. Mitsuhide didn’t think of himself as arrogant but this situation was humbling in the extreme. Thankfully, he managed to get through dressing and breakfast without any serious mishaps.
Sasuke and Miyake left to the university. The flat was silent in their wake. Mitsuhide and his little mouse sat on the edge of the bed. She was tapping away at a . . . tablet . . . to get access to her accounts. The electronic scroll was interesting, at least. With pictures and writing all lit up so you could read it even in the dark.
Mitsuhide stood and stretched, trying to get used to moving in his new clothes. They were Sarutobi’s and didn’t quite fit. He was dressed in a pair of pants that clung tightly to his legs and ended short of his ankle. The top was a soft weave, dyed black. It sported an odd blue character on it and the word Sonic. Sarutobi said the picture was a hedgehog, whatever that was.
He would have liked to wear something without a picture on it. He’d had the choice between this one and something with a lizard that walked on two legs and shot fire from its mouth. Those were the only two shirts the ninja had that were long enough to cover him to his waist. And there was no way he was walking around with a bare midriff. Even if his little mouse looked interested in the idea.
Her midriff was bare afterall, she’d laughed. And it was - sort of. She tied one of Sasuke’s shirts in a bow under her breasts and had a pair of his shorts on. Though Mitsuhide wasn’t familiar with the clothes of this time, he thought she looked like a child trying to fit into her father’s clothes. Endearingly cute, but ill fit. Some of the clothes they saw women wearing on the way in the night before would have looked much better on her.
She looked up as if she knew he was thinking about her. “Ok, I think we’re ready to go.”
“Where to, my love?”
“Well, first to my apartment. It looks like my rent payments have all been made. And the building manager knows me so I should be able to get a spare key.” Her smile was all relief.
They arrived to the apartment, a small space in a tall building that reminded Mitsuhide of a castle, if the castle was robbed of all charm and beauty. Her room was utilitarian and sterile, and while there was still the wonder of technology, he could see none of her personality in the space. He said as much.
“Hm, yeah. I didn’t really have time to decorate. The apartment came furnished. I moved in and then, well,” she laughed. “I ended up in Azuchi with you.”
Mitsuhide pulled her into a hug. “A fate worse than death, little mouse?”
“You know it wasn’t,” she giggled, laughing harder as he ran his fingers down her sensitive sides. Holding her like this felt like home, even if nothing else was familiar.
After several slow breaths, they let go of each other.
“I must confess, I cannot see you living in this place. It doesn’t seem very safe. And you don’t have much room for your sewing.” Mitsuhide couldn’t help but poke into her cabinets, shelves, and drawers.
She nodded. “Yeah, it’s pretty small but it was a place I could afford on my own.”
Mitsuhide heard the pride in her voice. He smiled. “I can imagine you coming here, determined to make it on your own.” He turned from the cabinet he was inspecting to see her stripping off her shirt.
Her pert breasts were a pleasant surprise, but she crossed her arms over them as soon as she saw him looking. “I’m just changing clothes! I didn’t want to wear Sasuke’s basketball shorts all day.”
“Please, continue.”
“I - I can’t while you’re staring at me!” She turned so that all he could see was her back.
Mitsuhide laughed. “Are we not lovers? How many times have I kissed, nibbled, caressed every bit of your skin from head to toe?”
She shivered, skin dimpling with remembered touches. Slow, nervous, she turned back around. Her arms lowered, revealing her chest again. “You can watch if you want to.”
He wasn’t sure if it was nerves or mischief that made her voice squeak at the end. Either was amusing. “Mmm, I’m a lucky man to get a show.”
“You are,” she smiled. Her fingers went to the tie on the shorts. They fell away, pooling around her feet. Underneath, she wore nothing.
Mitsuhide sucked in a breath.
Her hips swayed as she walked to her wardrobe. She glanced over her shoulder at him and fluttered her eyelashes, trying to be saucy. The effect was a little spoiled by the blush that ran from her cheeks to the tips of her ears. From within the wardrobe she pulled out a little twist of cloth. It was light blue and made of some embroidered material.
He didn’t realize he could see her skin through it until she slipped it on, slowly pulling the fabric taut over her curves. Though she was technically covered, it was somehow more tempting than just skin alone. “What . . . is that?”
“Panties.” She giggled. Then she pulled out a matching bit of cloth and wrapped it around her chest. The rise of her breasts were restrained by this new piece of clothing as she reached behind her as if to tie it.
“And that?”
“My bra.” She turned right, then left, letting him get a good view.
The sight made Mitsuhide want to simultaneously rip the clothing off her and still enjoy looking at her in them. It wasn’t possible to have both . . .
“To be honest, it’s been kind of nice not wearing these the last few months. But I think I would feel weird if I didn’t wear them with my modern clothes.”
“I like them.” Mitsuhide smiled widely. A grin that brought heat to her gaze before she looked away, suddenly shy. He knew this ground well. Even here in a world where everything was strange, his little one was the same.
He stepped forward, reaching to cup her cheek. His other hand settled lightly on her hip, fingertips stroking the skin just above the fabric of her panties. She inhaled sharply, lips parting. Mitsuhide took the invitation.
The kiss was, at first, gentle and sweet, but the press of their bodies built heat between them. Their breath mingled, tongues entwined. Hands grasping, stroking, pulling. Tearing.
Mitsuhide stopped at the sound of fabric ripping.
His little one gasped and reached down to feel the damage. Her eyes widened. “You . . . tore my panties.” Then she started to laugh.
He laughed too. Never in his life had he expected a woman so wonderful. A woman he would want badly enough to - literally - tear the clothes off her. This kind of passion he’d always believed was fake. Yet here he was. It was unthinkable. Incredible. “I love you,” Mitsuhide told her, smiling so widely that it hurt.
“I love you too.”
She gestured to the wardrobe. "I should probably, you know. Finish." It took only a moment for her to shimmy into her own clothes. Then they headed out into this strange world that was his home 500 years after death.
Hello!! Can I have a drabble featuring a MC withering away due to a disease. It eats at her and she has little to no energy nearing the end. And she does in the arms of her beloved. May I have it with Mitsuhide/Nobunaga please?
😭 Yes. Please… enjoy? 😭♥️
I don’t think of myself as big on angst but this was actually a pleasure to write, as sad as it is. So thank you for the request and the quick follow up! 🙇🏻♀️ The cut below is 95% for length and sadness but there is a little bit of a tenderly spicy memory under it, fyi. Tense floats around here on purpose because the poor man is HURTING.
(Requests are closed, readers, but there are a lot still to be written and posted in July! Feel free to follow along to see them all, or just read whichever ones you’d like. A masterlist will be posted when they are complete.)
He has long loved her trembles. Her body has been expressive since their first meeting, always finding some silly reason to shudder. Fury. Food. Fun. Him.
He dared to admit only to himself that he was disappointed when she grew a little more resistant to him over time. Never very resistant. His mouse is a sensitive soul in a sensitive shell. And they both enjoy it when he teases her. There have been so many ways to tease her.
Nothing can convince Mitsuhide that she is not heaven-made. It was while he touched her that true feeling first came back to some of his fingertips. The ability to discern real sensation instead of only pressure. And of all things he could have touched, it was the miracle of the skin of her throat. He convinced her to let him spend an entire night loving it with his mouth and those newly reborn fingers, just so he could compare their sensitivity. The way she trembled then, all tight and vulnerable but open for him… he will never forget it.
Mitsuhide curses himself for ever being amused at those first fierce trembles in the early days of autumn. He could tell they were different, just not how. And the two of them had been so safe—as safe as he could make them— and so happy. Her laughter painted their every day. She even made him laugh. She did it the first time he tickled her and turned those odd trembles to full-body wriggles as she tried to escape. He never went fully off guard, but he told himself (as a fool tells himself) that they were safe.
They were not. She was sick, and she didn’t get better. And then there were no trembles, for awhile. Selfish demon that he is, he relished the ones that came back, even though he knew they meant doom.
Doesn’t everything mean doom? Mitsuhide has thought this a dozen times, sitting or laying beside her. Even underneath her, a few times, desperate to put her cheek to his chest. The question sounds like the logic of a man who has given up. It sounds like him before he met her.
Now he’s met her, and loved her. Woken up to her warmth. Felt the places she is softest when she sleeps. Known the flowers and patterns and scents she likes. Come to enjoy the flavorless but deep pleasure of sharing the desserts she loves most.
And now she is dying, because he dared to love her and he lived a very terrible life before she was part of his. Maybe because he’s done a few terrible things since he loved her. A part of his mind is trying to come down like a shield around his soul, but his heart shoulders giant stones into its path so it cannot land and close him off. He loves her. He’s not going to stop loving her when she’s gone. He’s not going to stop loving her until the day he stops living.
The wanness of her smile will haunt him more than anything he has ever done. More than the bruises he treated early in their time together. Is there a part of her he can capture and tie up so she cannot leave him?
There is not. A mouse is evasive, and one of her whisker-tricks is that she has always known when to fight and when to surrender. He’s been right there beside her to see all her fighting. He is right there beside her to see when her body begins to truly give up.
They are alone, so though he is more angry at all of this than sad, he lets her see a kitsune’s tears. Maybe she can barter them for comfort in her next life. He’s got her laying his lap since she can barely move, and she’s just staring at him intensely, eyes tired but alive. He knows she is trying to look at nothing but his face. If she were well she would be smiling, and her hands would be on his cheeks.
But she is not well. She can barely talk, and he knows she is exhausted. Whatever this is, it has eaten away at her, like a bigger and more vicious mouse. It has stolen her light away grain by grain.
She uses some of her precious energy to whisper words that come out of her like the last leaves of the year, drifting down. I love you. Hold me.
Mitsuhide slides her up in his lap so she can lean against him and he can hold her better. He tells her that he loves her, and to close her eyes and rest. As gently as he can, he eases the side of her face onto his shoulder and her hands onto his robe, to the places she might clutch if she were strong enough. He kisses her forehead, runs his nose along one of her fine eyebrows, and repeats that he loves her. He’s clearly losing control.
So he touches the tender skin on the side of her throat, and murmurs to her all his memories of the night when he touched that place and could suddenly feel her. He feels her relax against him, so like the way she used to snuggle. Trusting, comfortable. Peaceful. He keeps talking. More memories. At one point there is a little cough he’s sure is laughter. He doesn’t move his hand. He wishes she were well enough for him to hold her throat and tilt her head for a kiss that would make her sway. But she is not. He leaves his fingers where they are.
And because he has feeling in those fingers, he feels when her life flutters out and his world ends. He soaks her hair with a hushed flood of silver kitsune tears and wishes he could die rather than endure this. She never learned how to haggle. Who will protect her? How will he find her in the next life? How long will it take?
Hot damn, hot stuffs, we did it! FIFTY requests for my 1,000 followers celebration. That is… too many numbers to be throwing around on a free Friday night. This masterlist links to all of the individual requests, and I will add a link to this post to my main masterlist. Non-worksafe pieces are starred (✬), my favorites are marked with a heart (♡). Thank you so much to everyone who requested, especially for your patience as it took me a month+ longer than I said it would to finish these up. I appreciate everyone who reads my stuff and every like and reblog (especially with tags! I read them all!) make me 🥰. Many mercis! I plan to open these up again in March.
Omg first of all, congrats on your follower count!!! Could I request some sfw/nsfw HCs for SLBP Masanori, Kanetsugu and Yoshichi? Your side chara content is actually glorious. I mean tbh all of your stuff is amazing but it makes me SO HAPPY to see all your appreciation for the wonderful side characters of SLBP!!!!
Oooooh, this is a good one. φ(^∇^ ) I really appreciate the kind words and the request! SIDE CHARACTER LOVE SQUAD! Hope you’ll enjoy these.
Masanori as a gift-giver is canon (bless you 5ever, @ieyasu-tacogawa !). He also treasures what he is gifted. The man is no packrat, but if something he is given is broken (say a little crimson chopstick rest, a present from a certain lady cook), he gets. the. mopes. Masanori will need coaxing to open up about it– best to have a certain lady cook in his lap for that + a few smooches and sweet words to soothe him. If a certain lady cook were to gift him another chopstick rest to replace a broken gift, he will take it with him to all meals… but keep it in his sleeve instead of using it, so it stays safe. Gruff but very sentimental, this one. (Modern Masanori WOULD keep his childhood teddy bear in his home as adult)
Kanetsugu can’t risk writing love letters (and doesn’t think he’d be very good at it), but he can copy stanzas and add tiny brushstroke birds and grasses and present those to his lady love, and he absolutely does. He might recite some of the poetry when they are alone together, as well. Never to be pretentious or performative, but because he’s actually quite moved and is trying to share that. A soft smile of appreciation and a thoughtful response is the stuff of his dreams. A poem in return is beyond them.
Yosweetcheeksshichi’s the object of so much teasing in Kasugayama that the idea of you teasing him actually haunts his dreams for a few nights. He doesn’t think he could handle the shame and hurt of you making fun of him— Kakki and Tsugutsugu can do it, he’s not trying to impress them! But when you are a part of Kasugayama and do tease him, it’s so gentle and your smile is so warm he… actually… loves it. And you never tease him about something he’s deeply insecure about, so it feels like each little joke is a ribbon that connects you. He starts thinking of however you last gently poked fun at him before he goes to sleep at night, and his dreams are sweet.
